My Fiancé Cheated, So I Dated My Billionaire Boss

"I don't need you to drive me home," I said. "And I don't need my boss watching me get dumped in real time."

Miles looked at the keys in his hand for a second. Then he slid them into his pocket.

He didn't come around to my side. He pulled out the chair across from me and sat, the long table still between us.

"Okay," he said. "Do you need quiet, or do you need to swear at someone?"

I opened my mouth to say neither. Nothing came out.

The air vent hummed. Somewhere down the hall, a printer jammed and someone cursed it.

"They got married today," I said.

That was all. My voice came out flat and even, like I was reading a filing deadline.

Miles didn't move. But his jaw went tight, and for a moment he looked at me like I'd cut myself and was pretending not to bleed.

"Then we'll sit here," he said. "As long as you want."

We sat there for eleven minutes. I know because I counted.

---

At 10:14 that night, Mom forwarded an invitation.

*Richard Bennett's Retirement Celebration. Harbor Yacht Club. Saturday, 6 p.m.*

Under it, she'd typed: *Grant and Paige will be there too, sweetheart. We can't let one breakup tear the whole family apart.*

One breakup. Like I'd dropped a glass.

My thumbs were already moving. *I won't be coming. Please tell Dad I'm sorry.*

Before I could hit send, my phone buzzed. Dad.

Dad never called after nine.

"Audrey." His voice was rough, like he'd been working up to this. "I know your mother texted you."

"She did."

"I'm not calling for her." He paused. "I want my daughter there. That's it. I won't ask you to forgive anybody. I won't ask you to smile at anybody."

I pressed the heel of my hand against my eyes.

"Dad, I'm not sitting at their table."

"Then you'll sit at mine."

I laughed, short and wet. "Okay. I'll come."

---

The next afternoon, I was halfway through Miles's red notes when his phone rang on the desk between us. He glanced at the screen and sighed like a man facing a tax audit.

"Mother."

He put it on speaker. I don't think he meant to. I think he just didn't want to hold it.

"Miles, darling. Dinner Sunday, and the Sunday after. And the Carrow Foundation ball is on the twentieth. You're not coming alone again."

"I like coming alone."

"You *like* making me look like I raised a monk. Eleanor's niece is back from London. She's lovely. She does something with art."

"Everyone's niece does something with art."

"Sunday, Miles."

She hung up first.

I set down my pen. "Your mother is scheduling your love life."

"My mother believes a man attending alone is an open invitation for a blind date." He rubbed his temple. "Last year she seated me next to a woman who asked me to invest in her horse."

"Her horse."

"Not a horse business. One horse."

I snorted. He gave me a look. "Says the woman whose family is throwing her a party with her ex and his new wife."

"It's my father's party."

"It's a firing squad with an open bar."

I should have left it there. Instead, I heard myself say it, half joking, half not.

"You need a girlfriend who'll make your mother stop talking. I need a date who'll make my relatives stop pitying me. Want to trade services?"

He didn't laugh. He didn't say yes either.

He leaned back and studied me. "If we did this, would you feel like you couldn't walk away? Because I sign the checks?"

My spine went straight. "I report to Vivian Brooks. Not you. My reviews go through General Counsel. So don't make jokes about your title like it owns me."

"It wasn't a joke. It was a question."

"Then here's my answer. This has nothing to do with my salary, my review, or my promotion. Not one line of it. Or there's no deal."

Something in his face eased. Almost like relief.

"Good," he said. "Put it in writing."

---

We ended up at the café on Fifth after work. Two black coffees. My phone between us, a fresh note open.

"Six weeks," I said, typing. "Rule one. No payment for romance."

"I wasn't going to Venmo you for dinner."

"Rule two. Nothing affects work."

"Agreed."

"Rule three." I hesitated. "Ask before kissing."

He tilted his head. "Every time?"

"Every time."

"Fine. Rule four, either of us can end it. No reason needed."

I typed. "Rule five. If either one of us wants something real, we say so first. Before anything happens."

He was quiet a beat too long. Then he reached over and tapped the screen. "Add one."

"What?"

"You stop keeping up appearances for people who hurt you."

My fingers stalled over the keyboard. "That's not a dating rule."

"It's mine."

I typed it. Then I added one more and turned the phone so he could see.

*Rule seven: The boss does not make decisions for me.*

He read it. The corner of his mouth twitched. "That one's aimed at me."

"It has your name on it in invisible ink."

---

Monday morning, we sat across from Vivian Brooks and filled out the conflict-of-interest disclosure.

Miles signed the recusal form without blinking. "I'm out of every decision on Ms. Bennett's compensation, reviews, and project assignments. Effective now."

Vivian took the papers, scanned them, and stacked them neatly. She didn't ask a single question about us.

She just took off her glasses.

"I don't care what you two do on weekends," she said. "But if this ends badly, do not turn my office into a breakup scene. I mean it."

"Understood," we said, at the same time.

She put her glasses back on. "Get out."

---

Saturday, Miles knocked at exactly 5:30.

I'd expected a tux. Something loud. Something built to make Grant feel small.

He wore a dark gray suit. Simple. A white shirt, no tie.

I stood in the doorway touching the thin gold chain at my throat. Grant had given it to me three Christmases ago.

"Should I take this off?" I asked. "It feels like a statement either way."

Miles glanced at it, then back at my face.

"Wear what you like," he said. "You don't need to dress like you're trying to beat anyone."

I laughed. A real laugh, from somewhere low in my chest. The first one all week.

He looked almost startled by it.

I took the necklace off anyway. Because I wanted to.

---

The Harbor Yacht Club smelled like salt and expensive candles. Miles slipped my coat from my shoulders and handed it to the attendant.

Across the room, Grant's smile froze halfway up his face.

Paige, though, came at us glowing. "Audrey! You came! Oh my God, we have to get a picture. Everyone, squeeze in!"

"I don't—"

"Give me your phone, yours takes better ones." She plucked it from my hand right as I unlocked it.

She took the shot. Then another. Then she turned away, thumb moving fast across my screen.

"Paige."

"One sec, I'm finding the good one."

Same old Paige. Always deleting the ones where she wasn't the prettiest.

I held out my hand. She gave it back with a bright smile.

Miles leaned down, his voice low near my ear. "Can I hold your hand?"

I looked at him. He waited.

"Yes," I said, and slid my hand into his. It was warm and steady.

Paige tapped a fork against her glass.

The room went still. She rested her other hand on her stomach, slow and soft, and leaned into Grant.

"Since everyone's here today," she said, beaming right at me, "Grant and I have one more piece of good news."