Claire Montgomery watches as Elliot is towering over her the same way he did beside those high school lockers. Even with his shoulders all slumped in defeat, Elliot Ramsay is a hottie—he always has been, ever since he was the cutest guy in math class. And that, it seems, is the problem. “She shouldn’t have done that.” “Elliot?” She waits for him to meet her gaze, drifting along her shoulder before finally boring into hers. “She shouldn’t have touched you like that, especially once you told her to stop. You’re not the bad guy here.”
Doubt flickers across his face, and she freaking hates that. Compared to most celebrities, Elliot is a little awkward—and yes, he struggles with small talk. Not every social cue lands right with him. Take it from the woman who’s worked for him for the last six years, and who’s nursed a secret crush on him for far longer than that. He’s a sexy, awkward cinnamon roll in a tailored suit. “I’ve seen the comments. They’re saying I hate women.” She scoffs. “Well, that’s ridiculous. You hate everyone equally.” The ghost of a smile flickers behind Elliot’s palm before he brushes it away and drops his hand.
“Everyone but you, Claire.” She smiles at her boss and best friend, playing it cool and calm, giving away zero sign that his words affect her as strongly as they do. Claire will relive this moment and scream into a pillow. But this morning, she keeps it together—until Elliot tugs on his rolled sleeve and says, “So I’ve been thinking: we should get married.” “This is insane. You are insane. What a thing to spring on me on a Monday morning.” Elliot leans against the front of his desk, arms crossed over his chest. He shakes his head slowly, watching her pace like he’s fascinated by her animal behavior.
“Would you have said yes if I proposed on a Tuesday?” “You didn’t propose. People don’t get married for PR reasons, Elliot.” He’s so freaking calm. “Yes, they do.” “Not emotionally healthy people!” Elliot smirks and shrugs, as if to say: Well, who’d you think you’re dealing with? And oh my god, I’m going to murder this man. He doesn’t get that she’s been pining for him like some tragic fool since that first day in high school math class; that she used to daydream about marrying him more times than she could count.
“You’re already my favorite person, and the length of our friendship suggests that you don’t mind me either.” “This way my public image will improve, people will see that I don’t hate women, and the world will start looking elsewhere for scandal. Plus fewer old ladies will try to grope me in public.” “And you’ll get half my assets, so you’ll never have to worry about money ever again, even if something happens to me. It’s a win-win situation, Claire.” He is so sure this is the ideal solution. From the idea of marrying him for PR and getting his money if something happened to him after they married.
As if, she just wants the money, not the man. This is my only change of clothes.” “Well, if you stop pacing—” “I can’t.” If she stops pacing, her heart will beat right out of her chest. If she stops this frantic movement, she’ll have to look her best friend-turned-boss in the eye, and then he’ll see exactly why she can’t marry him as some twisted PR move. Spoiler alert: it’s not because she’s above such things. It’s because it’s Elliot offering this. Elliot with his steady blue eyes and that deep voice that makes her shiver; tilts his head now, watching her closely like she’s another tech problem he needs to solve.
It’s a very familiar look. My legs burn from power-walking up and down his office. Mental note: do more cardio. Preferably while running far, far away from this bullshit. “I wouldn’t expect anything,” Elliot says, fiddling with one shirt cuff. Sudden discomfort rolls off him in waves. “Physically, I mean. I know you wouldn’t want that, Claire.” Ha! A manic laugh blooms in her chest, and she wants to cackle like a hysterical old witch. Because… She wouldn’t want that? Is that what he thinks? Listen: She would trade her left pinkie finger for the chance to lick this man’s throat.
She’d transfer her meager life savings if it meant she could bottle his spicy-clean scent and spray it on her pillow every night, then roll around naked in those sheets. But has Elliot noticed her pathetic pining? He has not. Elliot’s right: he’s gentle when he moves her away. Even on the grainy video it’s clear, but the internet mobs have agreed: the love of her life is trash. He should be hanged, drawn, and quartered; his tech should be boycotted; he should be made to pay for daring to assert his personal space. Screw that. “I’ll do it,” She says, out of breath for no good reason.
She stopped pacing nearly an hour ago, and yet her heart has not slowed at all. Is she dying? “F- it. Let’s get married.” In nearly thirty years of life, he never considered what his wedding might be like. Partly because his brain has always been full of other things—theories and experiments and tech—and partly because there’s only one woman he’d ever want to marry. Claire Montgomery: the angel of his high school math class, his best and only true friend, and now his ruthlessly efficient PA. Her. The thought of marrying anyone else is repellent.
He never thought Claire thought of him in that way. But it seems like she has him. See how they bring out all those true feelings for one another.