Lies Between Us

Chapter Four

Rayna's Pov

The restaurant was all steel and warm. Thai? Unexpected. Too subtle for a man like Curry Kane.

I stepped through the door he held open, resisting the urge to flinch when his hand lingered a moment too long at the small of my back. I gave him a smile that looked sweet enough, one I’d practiced a thousand times. My nerves? Carefully staged. A perfect act.

Everything was perfect.

The perfect timing, after I watched him through my tinted windows with my monocular lens, as he wrapped up a meeting and took the elevator down to the garage.

The perfect place to ‘accidentally’ bump into him, after a day of calculated sabotage that caused him to fire his insufferable, stiletto-too-tight secretary.

A perfect alias to fit my double identities—Rayna Williams—with a well crafted background on all history, social media and background checks.

And the perfect reaction, after I dressed like a distraught damsel, with enough desperation in my eyes…and he bought it all.

I lived for this moment.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Don’t look like a threat. Don’t look like someone who memorized his file in the dark while plotting all the ways to destroy him.

“It’s nice to finally see you indoors,” he said as he guided me toward a table by the window.

The city lights behind him flickered like dying stars. And I realized how much I despised how good he looks. Devilishly handsome.

I slid into the seat, eyes skimming the menu, pretending not to notice the way he studied me like I was the real item on the table.

“Cozy but professional,” I said, setting the tone. Polished. Neutral. Just what he wanted—a capable, docile little hire with no sharp edges.

He signaled for wine. I asked for sparkling water. When the waiter left, silence stretched between us, thick and deliberate. I looked up, giving him the smile of someone nervous but hopeful. Inside, I was dissecting every word, every twitch of his jaw.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked, glancing at me over the rim of his water glass. “You looked pretty rattled back in the garage.”

Back in the garage. The words hit harder than I expected. So he had noticed—my tension, the way I clutched my sketchbook like a lifeline, the cracks in the mask I’d spent days perfecting.

“I’m fine,” I said with a shrug and a forced smile. “Just a rough morning—spilled coffee, missed a bus. Monday things.”

He didn’t look convinced. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t strike me as the public transport type.”

“Desperate times,” I muttered, folding my napkin to avoid his gaze.

He leaned back slightly, still watching me. “Well, this suit feels ridiculous in a Thai restaurant. But I guess we’re both a little out of place today.”

I shifted in my seat, feeling the subtle shift in his energy. His words were light, but his eyes? Focused. There was a quiet intensity in the way he studied me. It was as if he was peeling back the layers I’d worked hard to glue in place. I hated that.

He wasn’t just making conversation. He was assessing. Measuring. Deciding what to make of me.

“Fits the theme, doesn’t it?” I said, forcing a coy smile before glancing back at the menu. I could practically hear his brain clicking. He was testing me.

“Let’s review your experience, Ms. Williams,” he said, finally leaning towards the convo I wanted. “What’s the biggest challenge in business development?”

There it was.

I didn’t blink. “Sustainable growth. Anyone can scale fast. Building something that lasts? That’s the real work.”

He nodded, thoughtful. “And how do you balance that?”

I leaned in slightly. Controlled and calm. “Start by involving every team from day one. Build from communication, not assumptions. Then track. Pivot. Adapt. Growth without infrastructure is just chaos with good PR.”

His eyes lit up with interest or admiration, I couldn’t tell. Maybe both. Fool. I chuckled inwardly.

“We try to do the same,” he said. “Tell me about a time you failed.”

Besides having my father trust men like you?

I offered a sheepish smile and answered coolly. “Um… That would be my early campaign flop. Unfortunately, I misread the audience and I got a wicked backlash. But I rallied the team, rewrote the narrative, and turned the metrics around.”

“Most dodge that question,” he said. “Good answer.”

I nodded, keeping my gaze modest. Let him think I was humbled. Vulnerable and safe. Hell! I was enjoying this. Deceiving him. As long as I don't get caught though. And I knew I was too smart, shrewd and brilliant to get caught by a man like him.

However, the waiter returned with our food. I picked at the risotto with deliberate grace, every bite a performance in composure. His gaze never left me. Good. Keep watching. Keep underestimating me with your whole damn heart.

He cleared his throat. “How do you handle conflict?”

I set my spoon down and folded my hands… and lips, then answered. “I stay calm. Listen first. Aggression usually masks fear or ego. I redirect toward shared goals. Once, a partner lashed out—blamed others. I brought the team together, reset the terms, and still delivered on time.”

“You’re composed,” he said. “And tactical.”

I smiled faintly. “Thank you.”

Then he started talking. Some polished story about early failure and redemption. I nodded in all the right places, asked a few thoughtful questions to let him feel heard. That was the trick—reflect their ambition, feed their pride, and stay ten steps ahead.

The meal dragged on. But it was just about the meal. It never was. It was a game of pawns. A dinner with the devil. I asked about his company, his plans, his setbacks. Let him show off. Let him think I cared.

When the coffee arrived, I took a sip, setting the cup down just so. I could feel the end approaching. The moment of truth.

“One last question,” he said, watching me closely. “Why should I hire you over someone with more experience?”

Again, I didn’t blink. “Because I adapt faster. Because I don’t just want the role—I want to earn it. I know how to survive pressure. I don’t need hand-holding or perfect conditions. What you’ve seen tonight is the version of me you’d get every day—focused, honest, and relentless.”

His silence was long. His eyes searched mine, looking for cracks. I didn’t look away. I let him see the hunger. The fire. But not the rage.

“That’s enough,” he said at last, voice low. His fingers tapped the rim of his glass. Then, softer: “You’re hired.” A smirk curved up his lips.

My eyes lit up, lips slightly parted in awe—contrivedly. “Thank you!” I kept my gratitude simple and formal. “I promise not to disappoint you.” I gave him a slow, sincere, appreciative smile.

And he smiled back.

Good. Let him smile. Let him fall for it. He'll help ruin everything, even if he didn't know it yet.

Inside, I smiled harder. Checkmate.