A Quick Gig

The Lie That Started Everything ✦ Serena Ashford had learned early in life that there were two kinds of lies — the ones people told to protect themselves, and the ones they told to protect the people they loved. She had always believed herself incapable of the first kind. She was wrong. The morning sunlight cut through the floor-to-ceiling windows of her penthouse office on the thirty-second floor of Ashford Tower, casting long gold ribbons across the mahogany desk where she sat reviewing quarterly projections for the Lagos expansion. Numbers she had memorized. Numbers she trusted more than people. The spreadsheet glowed on her screen with a calm, orderly certainty that the rest of her life stubbornly refused to offer. Her phone buzzed. She ignored it. It buzzed again. Then again. She finally glanced at the screen. Jade. Three calls in four minutes meant her best friend was either in an emergency or had consumed too much espresso — and since Jade ran a wellness brand, it was almost certainly the latter. "Jade, I'm in the middle of—" "Your father called me." Jade's voice carried that particular brightness that came with devastating news delivered cheerfully. "He wanted to make sure you're bringing someone to the Ashford Family Retreat next weekend. He said — and I am quoting directly — 'Tell Serena that I am looking forward to meeting this mystery man she mentioned.'" Serena closed her eyes. The spreadsheet blurred behind her lids. Six weeks ago. A dinner with her father at the Ashford estate, where Dominic Ashford had sat across from her with that look on his face — the one that was half boardroom concern, half parental ache — and asked whether she was seeing anyone. Whether she had thought about moving forward with her life. Whether Lily was going to grow up watching her mother pour every living moment into balance sheets and conference calls. Serena had been tired. She had been three weeks out from a brutal custody hearing in which Kyle's lawyers had tried to paint her as emotionally unavailable, using her work hours as evidence of maternal neglect. She had been furious and exhausted and utterly without armor, sitting across from her father in the dining room where she had grown up, and she had said — carelessly, stupidly, without thinking — "Actually, Dad, I have been seeing someone." Dominic Ashford's face had transformed. The worry had lifted like a weather system breaking, replaced by a warm, relieved smile she hadn't seen directed at her in years. She hadn't been able to take it back. "Serena." Jade's voice pulled her back. "Please tell me this man exists." "He exists," Serena said carefully. "Serena Dominique Ashford." "He's just... between locations right now." "Oh my God." A long pause. "You lied to your father." "I did not lie. I generalized." "You don't have a boyfriend." "I don't have a boyfriend," Serena confirmed quietly. She turned her chair to face the window. Thirty-two floors below, the city moved with its usual indifference — taxis, pedestrians, a food cart throwing steam into the May air. She had built a life up here in the glass and light, away from all of it. Clean. Contained. Safe. Except for this. "The retreat is in eight days," Jade said. "Your entire family will be there. Your aunts. Your cousins. Your grandmother, who, may I remind you, asked Kyle directly at Christmas two years ago whether he had been faithful to you and he said yes while actively cheating. She's going to ask about this new man." "I know." "Your father is going to want to meet him." "I know, Jade." "And you have no one." Serena said nothing. Outside, a hawk — unusual for downtown — was circling the building across the street, riding a thermal with vast, unhurried patience. She watched it. "I might," Jade said slowly, "have a solution." "If you say blind date—" "Not a blind date. A service." Serena turned back to her desk. "What kind of service?" Jade hesitated just long enough to be concerning. "There's an agency. Very discreet. Very high-end. They provide... companionship for events. Professional, charming men who know how to handle themselves in social situations. You hire someone for the week, he plays the boyfriend, everyone is satisfied, and then it ends cleanly. No feelings. No complications." The silence that followed was long enough for Serena to watch the hawk complete two full circles. "You want me," she said at last, "to hire a gigolo." "The preferred term is professional companion." "Jade." "He would sleep on the floor. Or the couch. Whatever you want. There are contracts. Non-disclosure agreements. It is entirely businesslike." Jade's voice softened. "Serena, I know this isn't what you imagined for yourself. But you already told your father. The retreat is in eight days. And your daughter is going to be there watching you navigate this whole thing. Wouldn't it be easier to just... have a plan?" Serena looked at the photograph on her desk. Lily at her last birthday — five years old, gap-toothed smile, wearing a yellow dress and holding a cupcake with more frosting than cake. Brown eyes exactly like her mother's. Completely unaware that somewhere across town, her father was currently consulting with a lawyer about whether he could use Serena's work schedule to request a custody modification. "Send me the details," Serena said. Jade exhaled with audible relief. "I already did. Check your personal email. And Serena — it's going to be fine." Serena ended the call and sat for a moment in the quiet hum of the office. Through the glass, the hawk had found its perch somewhere and vanished. The city carried on. She opened her personal email. At the top of her inbox was a message from something called Prestige Connections, with a logo that managed to look tasteful rather than tawdry — a simple silver cufflink against white — and a subject line that read: *Exclusive Event Partnership Services.* She clicked it open. She read it twice. Then she poured herself a glass of water, drank it slowly, and read it a third time. By the time her assistant knocked to remind her about the eleven o'clock call with the Johannesburg office, Serena Ashford — billionaire's daughter, divorce survivor, single mother, and woman who had sworn off complication — had begun filling out the intake form. She told herself it was just business. She was, as would become clear in the days ahead, wrong about that too.