The Woman I’m With
786 Words
I knew she wouldn’t stay silent for long.
The headlines hadn’t even cooled before Claire showed up at my office perfectly styled, composed, like she hadn’t spent the last year tearing me apart.
She didn’t bother waiting for permission. “So it’s true,” she said, settling into the chair across from my desk, crossing her legs with practiced grace. “Alex Kingston, the untouchable bachelor, finally moves on. With your secretary, no less.”
I didn’t answer. The less I gave her, the faster she’d leave. At least, that was the hope.
She tilted her head, studying me the way she always had like a predator weighing her prey. “We’re not children anymore, Alex. You and I have history. We’ve invested too much to throw it away. It’s time to stop playing games. We’re both getting older. Don’t you think it’s time to settle down? To marry?”
The word made my chest tighten. Marriage. With her.
Once, maybe. Not anymore,never.
“Claire,” I said evenly, “you and I are over. That hasn’t changed.”
Her smile flickered, then hardened. “So what is this?” She gestured sharply toward the tabloid resting on my desk, my face frozen beside Zara’s in grainy print. “Is she just a distraction? Some little fling to parade around until you get bored?”
Something in me snapped.
The way she dismissed Zara like she was nothing. Like she didn’t matter. When the truth was, she mattered too damn much.
“Actually,” I said, voice low, deliberate, “Zara isn’t a fling.”
Claire arched a brow. “Oh? Then what is she?”
At that exact moment, the door opened. Zara stepped in with a file in her hands, her eyes widening as she took in the scene.
I looked at her and before I could stop myself, the words came out.
“She’s the woman I’m with.”
The room went still.
Claire’s smile cracked for the first time. Zara froze in the doorway, the file clutched tightly, confusion written all over her face.
But I didn’t take it back.
Couldn’t.
Because for the first time in years, the lie felt closer to the truth than anything Claire and I ever had.
The office felt smaller than it ever had.
Zara’s POV
I should’ve walked away after Alex’s ridiculous declaration. I should’ve gone home, slammed the door, buried myself in Netflix and cheap takeout. But I didn’t. Instead, I stood in his office, trembling with a mix of fury and something I refused to name.
“You can’t just say things like that,” I snapped, my voice too unsteady to sound convincing. “You can’t drag me into your mess, Alex. I’m your employee, not your”
“Not my what?” he cut in, his voice low, eyes burning into me.
“Not your shield. Not your pawn.” My throat tightened. “Not your woman.”
For a moment, neither of us moved. The tension vibrated in the air, coiled tight, ready to snap.
And then he stepped closer. One slow, deliberate stride. Then another.
“You think I don’t know that?” he said, softer now, almost broken. “You think I planned this? That I wanted you under my skin, distracting me every damn second of the day?”
My heart thundered. “Then why say it? Why claim me in front of her?”
His gaze dropped to my mouth, lingered, then lifted back to my eyes. “Because when the words came out… they didn’t feel like a lie.”
The world tilted. My breath caught, shallow and uneven. He was so close now, the faint scent of his cologne wrapping around me, pulling me in.
“Alex…” I whispered, though I wasn’t even sure what I meant to say.
His hand lifted, fingers brushing just once against my jaw. The touch was feather-light, hesitant, but it ignited sparks across my skin.
We were a breath apart. One heartbeat away from crossing a line neither of us could undo.
And then,
A sharp knock shattered the moment.
“Mr. Kingston?” Daniel’s voice, muffled through the door. “Press wants a statement about the photos.”
I jerked back like I’d been burned, clutching the file to my chest. Alex’s jaw tightened, his hand falling uselessly to his side.
“Go,” he said, his tone clipped, cold again. “Before I forget myself.”
I fled the room, pulse racing, legs unsteady. But as I walked down the hall, one truth burned hotter than my anger, brighter than my confusion.
I wanted him to forget himself.
And that terrified me more than anything.
- Writer
