Chapter 1 Three Years as His Dirty Little Secret

Nicholas let go of the elevator door and watched it slide shut. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a message in our group chat.

Nicholas said, "Paige, everyone at work already has the wrong idea about Chelsea and me. I don't want you getting caught up in it, too."

Misunderstandings were not that hard to clear up. That was, if the people involved actually wanted to.

"Got it," I replied.

My best friend, Chelsea Brown, chimed in quickly. "Paige, I swear nothing is going on between Nicholas and me. People are just making things up. Please don't take it the wrong way."

"I won't," I typed back.

He called it a misunderstanding, while she blamed office gossip. Neither of them seemed willing to do anything about it, so what else could I say?

The group chat fell silent after that.

I returned to my office and pulled out the contract HR had given me earlier that day. Without a second thought, I crossed out the box marked "Accept Renewal" and wrote, "I decline to renew my contract. My employment will end next week."

…

By the time I headed downstairs, a crowd had gathered outside the building. Coworkers surrounded Nicholas and Chelsea, each trying to persuade them to join everyone for dinner.

"Come on, Mr. Jones! It's Friday! We all work in the same building. Why not grab dinner together?"

"Chelsea, that new restaurant has a great group discount! Mr. Jones listens to you. Talk him into coming!"

As I approached, a coworker spotted me and winked. "Paige! Come help us play matchmaker!"

Before I could refuse, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me toward a car. Somehow, I ended up tagging along to dinner.

At the restaurant, Nicholas and Chelsea sat side by side, right across from me. Naturally, they became the center of attention, with everyone teasing them about their relationship.

Eventually, someone asked what everyone else was wondering. "Mr. Jones, come on. What's really going on between you and Chelsea?"

Nicholas smiled casually. "We're just friends."

"Just friends? Or is this one of those situations where you're more than friends but not quite dating?"

Chelsea blushed and stole a glance at me. Seeing me look down at my glass of water, she cleared her throat. "Well, it's not exactly something you can put a label on. It's complicated."

I paused, glass in hand, and looked straight at Nicholas, waiting for him to correct her.

He met my gaze for a brief moment, then turned back to Chelsea with a faint smile. "Chelsea's shy. Give us a break, guys. Don't put us on the spot like that."

That was enough to send everyone exchanging knowing looks. Nicholas had not admitted to anything, but he had not denied it either. To our coworkers, his answer said it all.

I set down my glass and messaged him under the table. "Why won't you just tell them the truth?"

His reply came almost immediately.

"What exactly did I say that wasn't true?"

I stared at the screen, my throat tightening. The worst part was, he was technically right. He had not actually lied. He had simply let everyone believe whatever they wanted, knowing exactly what they were thinking.

For the rest of dinner, Nicholas and Chelsea mingled with our coworkers, chatting and accepting toasts as though the entire gathering had been arranged in their honor.

…

When dinner finally came to an end, one of my coworkers leaned over and whispered excitedly, "Don't they look perfect together? I swear, tonight felt more like their wedding reception than a company dinner!"

Outside, the freezing wind stung my face as I watched Chelsea stand a few feet away. My eyes drifted to the designer scarf wrapped around her shoulders, the same one I had bought for Nicholas less than a week ago.

It had cost me an entire month's salary, and now it was keeping another woman warm.

I could not decide which was worse: the money I had wasted on that scarf or the three years I had wasted on Nicholas.

"Hey, Chelsea! How are you getting home?" someone called.

"I'll take her," Nicholas answered without hesitation.

He then reached over and took the cigarette from Chelsea, taking a couple of drags himself. He did it so naturally, without a second thought, that I could not help wondering how many times they had shared a cigarette before.

Just then, Nicholas noticed me watching. His hand stiffened, and the cigarette burned his fingers. "Ouch!"

Chelsea immediately grabbed his hand and examined his fingers with a worried look. "Oh my God, Nicholas! Are you okay?"

I watched her fuss over him as he stood there, letting her hold his hand, as though I was not standing right in front of them.

I had seen enough.

Raising my voice so everyone could hear, I asked, "Mr. Jones, are you sure you don't have a girlfriend?"