Just For Pretend

I met Noah Cole at the worst possible time. It was raining, my tote bag was slipping off my shoulder, and I was already late for an interview I could not afford to mess up. I was halfway through the revolving doors of Cole International when someone stepped in too fast from the other side. We collided. Hard. My folder flew out of my hands, papers scattering across the marble floor like confetti. “Oh my God,” I muttered, crouching instantly. “No, no, no…” “I am so sorry.” The voice was male. Calm. Too calm for someone who had just ruined my morning. I looked up sharply, ready to snap, but the words caught in my throat. He was tall, dressed in a dark coat that probably cost more than my rent, his hair slightly damp from the rain. His face was unfairly handsome in the kind of effortless way that made you annoyed about it. And his eyes… Green. Sharp. Watching me like he was already trying to figure me out. He crouched too, gathering papers before I could. “You are bleeding,” he said. I blinked. “What?” He nodded toward my hand. I looked down. A small cut across my palm. Probably from the corner of the folder. “It is fine,” I said quickly, trying to take the papers from him. “I am fine.” “You do not look fine.” “I do not have time to look fine,” I muttered. That made his mouth twitch, like he was fighting a smile. “What are these?” he asked, glancing at one sheet before I could snatch it back. I froze. My name. My resume. The bold heading: Applicant for Executive Assistant Internship. Heat rushed to my cheeks. “You should not read that.” “You dropped it.” “You ran into me.” “I apologized.” I glared at him. He held up both hands in surrender, still crouched. “Fair.” I grabbed the rest of the papers, shoving them into my folder with trembling fingers. This could not be happening. Of all the buildings in all of Manhattan, of course I had to crash into someone who looked like he belonged on the cover of a business magazine. “Are you interviewing here?” he asked. “Yes,” I said tightly. “What a coincidence.” I narrowed my eyes. “Why?” He stood smoothly, offering me a hand. I hesitated, then took it because the floor was cold and I was not about to struggle in front of him. As he pulled me up, his grip was warm. Steady. “Because,” he said, “this is my building.” That made my stomach drop. Of course it was. He watched my expression with clear amusement. “You work here?” He laughed softly. “Something like that.” “Great,” I muttered. “So you just tackle random applicants in the lobby?” “I did not tackle you.” “You practically did.” His smile widened. “You are dramatic.” “I am stressed.” “Fair.” The elevator doors opened behind him, and a group of suited executives stepped out, stopping the second they saw him. Their entire posture shifted. Respect. Recognition. One of them spoke carefully. “Mr. Cole.” Mr. Cole. My brain stalled. Noah Cole. As in Cole International’s golden heir. I went still. He glanced at them, nodding once, then looked back at me. The teasing in his expression softened into something else. Interest. “You are Blair Moore,” he said, like he had already memorized it from my resume. I stiffened. “Do not make this weirder than it already is.” “I am not trying to.” “You are.” He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. “I think you might have just walked into something much bigger than an internship.” My pulse jumped. “What does that mean?” Before he could answer, a man in a suit approached quickly, tense. “Sir, the board is waiting upstairs.” Noah’s jaw tightened. Board? The air changed around him, like a mask slipped into place. He looked back at me, eyes sharper now. “I have to go,” he said. “Good.” But he did not move immediately. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a sleek card, and pressed it into my hand. Noah Cole. Executive Office. My stomach twisted. “Call me,” he said. I stared. “Why would I call you?” His gaze held mine. “Because I have a feeling you are exactly what I need right now.” My throat went dry. Then he turned, walking toward the private elevator as the executives followed. I stood frozen in the lobby, rain dripping from my coat, heart racing for reasons I did not understand. I looked down at the card again. Noah Cole. And somehow, I already knew my life had just shifted off course. My phone buzzed a second later. Unknown Number: Blair Moore. We need to talk today. I stared at the screen. What did I just step into?