Chapter 6: First Appearance Protocol

Victor Shaw’s office is nothing like Adrian’s.

Where Adrian’s space is all clean lines, Victor’s is organized chaos. Schedules pinned to corkboards. Color coded calendars covering a wall. Stacks of folders labeled with names from gossip magazines.

Command central for Adrian Knight’s life.

“Sit.” Victor gestures to the chair without looking up from his tablet. “We have forty seven minutes, so let’s make this efficient.”

I sit. “Good morning to you too.”

He finally looks at me over his reading glasses. “Ms. Bennett, I don’t do pleasantries when there’s work to be done. You signed a contract yesterday that makes you Adrian Knight’s public girlfriend. That means you’re now part of his brand, and I manage that brand with extreme precision.”

“His brand.”

“His image. His reputation. The carefully constructed public persona that keeps Knight Corporation’s stock prices stable and his family satisfied.” Victor pulls out a thick binder and drops it on the desk between us. “This is your bible for the next six months.”

I stare at the binder. It’s got to be three inches thick.

“You’re joking.”

“I never joke about image management.” He opens it to the first tab. “Schedule. This is every event you’ll attend with Adrian for the next six months. Charity galas, corporate dinners, family functions, select social gatherings. Each one has a briefing document with guest lists, expected attendance, and your role.”

I flip through pages of dates. Some weeks have three events. Four in December.

“This is insane.”

“This is Adrian’s life.” Victor moves to the next tab. “Conversation topics. Green, yellow, red.”

“Color coded conversations?”

“Green topics are safe. Weather, art, travel. Yellow requires caution. Business, politics. Keep it surface level.” He points to red. “Forbidden. Adrian’s past relationships, his father’s business, family dynamics, how you actually met.”

“We have a fake origin story.”

“A consistent origin story. Introduced by mutual friends at an art gallery three months ago. Bonded over modern architecture. Got it?”

My head spins. “We have a fake origin story.”

“A consistent origin story. The details matter.” He flips pages. “Emergency contacts. My number first. Any questions, any problems, call me immediately. Not Mia. Not your mother. Me.”

“What if Adrian…”

“Adrian is second on the list.” Victor’s expression softens. “Managing public perception while managing his emotions? That’s why he has me.”

Victor continues through the binder. Dress codes. Social media posting times. How to handle press, paparazzi, invasive family members.

Every smile planned. Every word scripted. Every moment calculated.

“Does Adrian do this for every event?” I ask quietly. “Follow all these rules?”

“Every single one.” Victor closes the binder. “Adrian Knight doesn’t do spontaneous, Ms. Bennett. He can’t afford to. One wrong word, one unguarded moment, and the media twists it. His competitors use it. His father criticizes it.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It’s survival.” Victor pulls out another document. A calendar marked with red X’s. “These are the days Adrian typically works from home. Eighteen to twenty hour days. No breaks. No social calls. Just work.”

I count the X’s. There are more red days than white.

“He works that much?”

“He has to. Knight Corporation isn’t just a company, it’s a legacy. His father expects perfection. The board expects returns. The family expects him to uphold the Knight name.” Victor’s voice is matter of fact, but I hear the undercurrent. “And Adrian expects himself to exceed all of it.”

“Why?”

Victor looks at me for a long moment, like he’s deciding how much to say.

“Because if he doesn’t, someone else will. And Adrian Knight doesn’t lose.”

The words settle heavy in my chest. I think about the man who sat across from me in the restaurant, who proposed a six month contract like it was a corporate merger. Who put emotional boundaries in writing because he doesn’t trust anything that isn’t documented.

“He’s lonely, isn’t he?” The words slip out before I can stop them.

Victor’s expression shifts. Something almost like approval crosses his face.

“That, Ms. Bennett, is not in the briefing document.” He stands. “But it’s perhaps the most important thing you need to understand.”

He hands me the binder.

“Friday night. Seven PM. Adrian will pick you up. The car arrives at six thirty. Black tie. I’ve arranged for a stylist tomorrow with options.”

“I can dress myself.”

“This isn’t about dressing yourself. It’s about dressing the part.” His tone isn’t unkind. “You’re Adrian Knight’s girlfriend now. People will photograph you. Critique you. Compare you to every woman he’s never dated publicly.”

My stomach knots. “No pressure.”

“Immense pressure.” Victor walks me to the door. “But I think you can handle it.”

“Why?”

He almost smiles. “Because you made Adrian laugh.”

I blink. “I did?”

“In the restaurant. When you called yourself ordinary.” Victor opens the door. “I’ve worked for Adrian for eight years. I’ve seen him smile for cameras, smile for clients, smile for his grandmother. But actually laugh? That’s rare.”

He hands me a business card with his personal cell number written on the back.

“Call me if you need anything. Even if it’s just to panic about what shoes to wear.” His expression turns serious. “And Ms. Bennett? The contract says six months of public appearances. But I’ve seen the way Adrian looks at you.”

My heart skips. “What do you mean?”

“I mean be careful. The contract protects a lot of things. But not everything.”

Before I can ask what he means, Victor’s phone rings and he’s already answering it, dismissing me with a nod.

I walk out of his office with a three inch binder and a warning I don’t fully understand.

The elevator ride down feels longer than it should. I flip through the binder, seeing my life for the next six months mapped out in painful detail. Every event. Every expectation. Every moment calculated to maintain Adrian Knight’s perfect image.

And somewhere in all those scheduled appearances and color coded conversation topics, I’m supposed to remember this isn’t real.

My phone buzzes.

Adrian: “Victor said the briefing went well.”

Me: “Define well.”

Adrian: “You didn’t run screaming from his office.”

Despite everything, I smile.

Me: “The day’s not over yet.”

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.

Adrian: “For what it’s worth, I know it’s a lot. If you want to back out, we can tear up the contract. No hard feelings.”

I stare at the message. He’s giving me an exit. A clean break before Friday, before any of this becomes real in the public eye.

I think about Ryan’s rumors. About Morrison. About my career circling the drain.

I think about Adrian working eighteen hour days in a life so controlled he needs a binder to have a girlfriend.

Me: “I’ll see you Friday at seven.”

The response is immediate.

Adrian: “Thank you, Zara.”

I’m halfway home when another text comes through.

Unknown: “Enjoy your briefing? Victor’s very thorough. But there’s one thing he can’t prepare you for: me. See you Friday, darling. - Vanessa”

My blood runs cold.

She’s going to be at the gala.

Adrian’s elegant, dangerous ex.

And she’s already planning something.