“The wedding is in a month, and Catherine will be staying here in Toronto until then,” Joseph said, his voice low and measured like a judge handing down a life sentence. “We’ll have the ceremony here, before the two of you move to LA for good.” I stared at him.
Every part of me wanted to object. Loudly and dramatically. But what was the point? The ink had dried long before either of us had a chance to protest.
“We’ll give you two some time to talk,” Tim Ashton said. And we desperately needed that.
The two of them left, the door clicking shut like a vault sealing our fate. Dakota or Catherine sat down across from me with calculated poise. Blonde hair curled into place. Perfect posture. Cool expression. She wasn’t my secretary anymore.
“I never thought we’d meet again like this, Mr. Denver,” she said. Her voice was smooth, but her eyes were wary. Defensive. I watched her closely.
Everything about her screamed transformation — but the woman sitting before me was still the same person who used to bring me coffee and grumble about my last-minute calendar changes. Only now, she didn’t have to hide who she was.
A billionaire’s granddaughter. Not Dakota Lennix.
“Explain,” I said, voice sharp. “You’re not just some girl from nowhere. You’re an Ashton, or should I say, The Ashton. And you were working in my office like it was just a temp job.”
She sighed. “Long story short, I ran away after graduating from Harvard. I didn’t want the pressure. I wanted to build something on my own. So I changed my name and applied for a job. Your company was hiring.”
I scoffed. “So that’s it? Just a random job hunt?”
She nodded nervously. “I never planned to stay. But five years passed…” I leaned back and rubbed my face. This was madness.
“What about you?” she asked. “Kyle or Jacob? Which one is real?”
“I’m both,” I said flatly. “Call me Jacob in Toronto. Kyle in New York. Either one. Doesn’t matter anymore.”
She raised a brow. “Why did you send Brad to meet me?”
“Because I didn’t want this arrangement,” I snapped. “It was never supposed to be real. Brad was supposed to give you a way out without offending either of our grandfathers. But then you showed up here anyway.”
“And now?” she asked. I stood up and walked to the window, trying to calm the storm inside me.
“We can’t back out,” she said, quietly. I turned back, eyes locking on hers.
“Fine,” I said. “We’ll keep it going. But understand this — you’re nothing to me. You’ll be there for the appearances, like when you used to trail behind me taking notes. The only difference is now you’re my wife.”
Her expression didn’t flinch. She took a sip of water, then smiled faintly.
“I don’t mind. You’ll be in New York. I’ll be in LA. We barely have to see each other.”
That caught me off guard. “So you’re okay with this marriage?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I hate the idea. But it’s convenient. We can get divorced later. No ties. No emotions.” I sat back down across from her, studying her face. The sarcasm. The resignation. The quiet heartbreak she was masking behind steel.
“Didn’t you say you were hopeless at love?” I asked. “That you take it seriously?”
“In the end, nothing works out,” she said. “So why bother pretending?” I didn’t know whether to be impressed or disturbed by her calm detachment.
“Any boyfriends I should know about?” I asked, arching a brow. She gave me a withering look. “I was too busy working for someone who made me cancel every holiday.” Touché.
She stood up. “Anything else, Mr. Williams? Coffee? Wouldn’t want your temper to spike without it.”
“Very funny.”
“Don’t worry,” she said sweetly. “I won’t be a crazy wife. We’ll split everything. I won’t touch your money. And you can bring your mistresses around — just not to the house.” I stared at her, stunned.
“You’re really into this arrangement thing, huh?”
“No,” she said softly. “But my grandfather’s health is declining. I’d rather do this than watch him suffer disappointment that could kill him faster.” She turned to leave.
“Catherine,” I said sharply. She paused.
“My grandfather’s not easily fooled.”
She looked over her shoulder. “We’ll act. We’re good at pretending. We just need a month.”
“What’s your plan?”
“We’ll practice.” Then she left. The door closed, and I sank into the chair she’d just vacated.
My ex-secretary. My future wife.