Boundaries and Butterflies
1613 Words
The moment Luna stepped into her office, she closed the door, leaned against it, and exhaled like she'd been holding her breath since 9 a.m.
Aiden River. Assigned to her. For months.
There wasn’t enough caffeine in the world to prepare her for this kind of emotional whiplash.
Her phone buzzed again. Another message from Jamie:
“GIRL. YOU'RE TRENDING AGAIN. He followed you on i********:???”
Luna ignored it. Barely. Instead, she opened the file Monica had handed her.
Campaign Timeline. Event Schedules. Press Appearances.
Every single one had Aiden’s name attached to hers like an unwanted marriage license.
Before she could gather her scattered thoughts, a knock came at the door.
She tensed. “Yes?”
It opened halfway.
“I hope I’m not interrupting…”
His voice. Smooth. Cocky. Familiar.
Luna looked up. He was leaning against the frame like he belonged in a magazine spread. Again.
“You are,” she said.
Aiden stepped inside anyway.
“I thought it would be polite to apologize,” he said, lifting his hands innocently. “You looked… startled earlier.”
“You were in my boss’s chair.”
“She offered it.”
Luna stood, crossing her arms. “Let’s get a few things straight, Mr. River.”
His smile twitched. “Aiden.”
“I work here. You are a client. Which means there’s no flirting. Not charming. And definitely no chaos.”
“Chaos?” he echoed, mock-offended. “I’m deeply hurt.”
Luna ignored the flutter in her chest. “We are not friends. We are not a trending topic. We are business associates—nothing more.”
Aiden tilted his head, studying her like she was a puzzle. “Interesting. You think you created the trend?”
Luna blinked. “Excuse me?”
He took a slow step forward, her voice dropping just enough to unsettle her. “You didn’t notice the cameras, the agents, the managers whispering in the background?”
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Aiden stopped just in front of her desk, his tone serious now. “The moment we collided, Luna, something shifted. People noticed. And not just fans. My agent’s been trying to pair me with a ‘romantic interest’ for months. For the image. For the endorsements.”
She stiffened. “You think I’m being used to fixing your brand?”
His eyes met hers—intense, unreadable. “I think Monica didn’t assign you to me by accident.”
Silence stretched between them.
Aiden stepped back finally, putting space between them. “But if you’d prefer to keep things strictly professional… I’ll behave.”
He turned toward the door.
But just before leaving, he added with a smirk,
“For now.”
That night, Luna would find something strange in her inbox. An anonymous email. One line. No signature.
“He’s not who he says he is.”
Luna stared at the message.
It had been sitting in her inbox since midnight. No subject line. No sender. Just a single sentence blinking back at her like a warning:
He’s not who he says he is.
Her first instinct? Junk mail. But this didn’t feel like a scam. There were no links, no shady attachments. Just… the truth? Or the start of a game?
She slammed her laptop shut and rubbed her temples.
You’re overthinking. He’s just an actor. A drama magnet in expensive cologne.
And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the email wasn’t entirely wrong.
Later that morning, Luna entered the office, her stride sharp, her jaw set. She passed a few coworkers who gave her amused glances.
One leaned toward her and whispered, “So what’s it like being Aiden River’s handler?”
Luna shot her a tight smile. “More exhausting than it sounds.”
She didn’t mention the email. Or the fact that she hadn’t slept. Or that her heart kept racing for reasons that had nothing to do with caffeine.
She reached her office and paused.
Aiden was already inside.
Feet on the desk. Tie undone. Reading her notes like they belonged to him.
“I could file a restraining order, you know,” she muttered, walking in and snatching the folder from his hands.
He grinned. “Good morning to you too, Miss Quinn. You look tense. Didn’t sleep?”
Her fingers twitched. He doesn’t know about the email. Probably.
“I don’t sleep well when uninvited guests invade my workspace.”
“Oh, but Monica said I could use this office whenever we collaborate,” he replied, all innocence. “And since you’re my handler…”
Luna rolled her eyes. “Don’t say that word like it’s sexy.”
“Everything sounds sexy when you say it back to me,” he said, sitting up straighter.
Butterflies. Do not engage.
“Here’s your schedule for the day,” she said, handing him a clipboard. And no—you don’t get to argue. You’re not just an actor anymore. You’re a client with a tattered public image and an attitude problem.
He leaned forward, all flirt and heat. “I like it when you talk dirty, Luna.”
She didn’t blink. “I like it when you read contracts without crying.”
Aiden laughed. “Fair.”
Then he sobered a little, scanning the schedule. “What’s this dinner tonight?”
“Brand partnership gala. You’re presenting with one of our VIP clients.”
He raised a brow. “And you’ll be there?”
She hesitated. “Only to make sure you don’t make a scene.”
His gaze lingered on her. “Then I’ll have to make it worth your while.”
That night.
The gala shimmered like something out of a dream—floor-length gowns, glittering chandeliers, live jazz.
Luna felt entirely out of place in her sleek black dress and heels she hadn’t worn since graduation. But when Aiden walked in wearing a custom navy suit, tie undone just enough to look roguish, everything else faded.
He saw her before she saw him.
And when their eyes met, the corner of his mouth tugged upward. Not in his usual charming, teasing way.
This time, it was something… softer.
He offered her his arm.
She took it—reluctantly. Because she had to.
Because her job depended on it.
Because her heart couldn’t take it otherwise.
As they posed for photos together, somewhere in the crowd, a woman stood watching. Eyes sharp. Smile unreadable.
She turned to her assistant and whispered:
“She doesn’t know who he really is. Yet.”
Luna had mastered her professional smile. The one that said: I’m perfectly fine and not internally combusting next to a ridiculously attractive man who smells like confidence and danger.
But tonight, it was cracking at the edges.
Aiden leaned down as the cameras flashed, whispering just close enough to send shivers along her neck.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“That thing where you pretend you don’t like standing next to me.”
She turned slightly toward him, lips still smiling. “I’m not pretending.”
He chuckled under his breath, but it faded faster than usual. Something in his posture shifted—tense, alert.
“What is it?” she asked quietly.
His eyes scanned the crowd, narrowing.
“Nothing,” he muttered. “Thought I saw someone.”
Before she could press, a reporter called out, “Mr. River! A picture of your date?”
“I’m not his—” Luna started.
Aiden wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her slightly closer. The contact burned like lightning.
“She’s not just a date,” he told the press with a grin that wasn’t quite convincing. “She’s the reason I haven’t lost my mind.”
The flashes erupted again. Luna smiled through clenched teeth, her mind racing.
As they moved inside the ballroom, she pulled away.
“You didn’t have to say that,” she whispered.
He looked at her. “Didn’t I?”
Before she could respond, a woman approached—tall, poised, dressed in icy silver with lips painted a perfect crimson.
“Luna Quinn,” she said, her voice smooth and laced with curiosity. “Finally, we meet.”
Luna frowned. “Do I know you?”
“Not yet. But I know him.” Her eyes flicked to Aiden, and for the first time since they met, he looked… caught off guard.
“Celeste,” he said slowly, his voice lacking its usual charm. “Didn’t think you were still on this side of the world.”
“Surprise,” she replied, and smiled like it was anything but friendly. “Old ghosts like me tend to resurface.”
Luna felt the tension spike between them. She stepped closer, unintentionally placing herself between them.
“Friend of yours?” she asked Aiden.
Celeste laughed lightly. “Oh, darling. We were so much more than that.”
The silence that followed was a punch to Luna’s ribs.
Aiden’s expression turned unreadable.
Celeste turned to Luna. “Be careful, Ms. Quinn. Aiden River is very good at playing roles. Even off-screen.”
Then she walked away, disappearing into the crowd like smoke.
Luna didn’t speak. Neither did Aiden.
But something inside her cracked.
And later, when she got home and opened her inbox again…
There was another message.
This time, it had a subject line:
“Check the archives. 2018. Paris.”
Luna opened a browser window and typed the words.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, heart hammering.
What happened in Paris?
And why was Aiden River trying so hard to keep it buried?
- Writer
