PrimRosee

"Block him."

"He's technically still my boss."

"Then block him with dignity."

The call ended again.
And then started again.
I let out a sound somewhere between a growl and a sob, then finally answered with the enthusiasm of a snail crawling through salt. "Yes, Mr. Walton?"

"Have you changed your mind yet?"

I collapsed onto the towel and gazed at the sky as though it might consume me entirely if I pleaded sweetly enough.

"Do you ever take a break?" I asked, shielding my eyes with one hand.

"You're avoiding the question."

"Because it's a dumb question."

He exhaled, the sound sharp and irritated even over phone. "It's not a dumb question. It's a business offer."

"It's a weird offer-one that I already said no to."

There was a brief pause, and I could practically hear him clenching his jaw through the speaker.
"You are acting unreasonably."

" Unreasonable?" I sat up. "I'm not the one drafting fake girlfriend contracts like it's a normal Tuesday."

"Isabella-"

"Certainly not, Mr. Walton." I mimicked his tone perfectly. "I told you I'm not doing it. You need to find someone else to play pretend with."


SYNOPSIS 
Isabella Miller thought saying no to her boss’s fake dating offer was the end of the story.
But Adrien Walton doesn’t take no—especially not when he’s convinced she’s a gold digger.

Suddenly, her student loans are piling up, her father’s vet clinic is on the brink of eviction and her brother is about to be kicked out of college. Coincidence? She thinks not.

Adrien Walton is calm, calculating—and he's just pulled every string to corner Isabella into the perfect position.

Now she’s stuck choosing between pride and survival.
So she agrees to his offer: be his fake girlfriend.
No feelings attached. No drama. Just business.

Or so she thought.

"Conference Room B. Fifteen minutes," he said, passing by without a glance.
The folder he pushed across the table landed with a thud.
I opened it. The contract. All of it.

---

Enemies to lovers? Check.
Slow burn? Hmmnyea.
Banter so sharp it might file your nails? Yes.
Delicious workplace tension? Of course.
Tension that could melt steel?Absolutely.
Smut?? Wanna find out?

Welcome to corporate romance warfare. There’s no escaping this contract.

Fake Date, Real Fate

I found that out on my second day when he told a delivery guy to "take that green thing out of his office before it starts photosynthesizing." His exact words.

So, naturally, I decided to gift him one.

It wasn't real, of course. I'm not that irresponsible — what if I accidentally killed it and he blamed me for botanical manslaughter?

No, this was war, not a gardening class. I went with a plastic aloe vera I found in the clearance bin of a decor shop. Slightly shiny, slightly crooked, and 100% annoying.

Mr. Walton's office was a temple of stark, geometric perfection. Clean lines, muted colours, expensive art that probably cost more than my car. Everything was curated, controlled, utterly devoid of anything remotely... tacky.

Miss Miller And Mr. Walton: Round Two