“Leave,” I snapped, picking up Lily’s dress from my floor, deliberately using my bloody hand to stain her precious Prada number. “And this time, just so we’re on the same page, if you come back here, I will make sure to slap a restraining order on your ass. It won’t be pretty, seeing as you’ll have to move away from Manhattan, and you can hardly find your way in fucking Bloomingdales. Am I clear?”

“I’ll take this story to all the press. Too many people already know.” She threw herself at me, her fists raining down on my chest. I pushed her away with my dripping palm, hoping to fuck her type of crazy wasn’t contagious.

“You go do that, Lily. But put some clothes on first. You know, to make an impression.”

“Why are you fighting us?”

“Why are you fighting to save us? Us ceased to exist a long time ago. You’re going in circles. We haven’t been together in over a year.”

Her eyes darted down. “I thought it was going to change. I thought you’d calm down and realize we were compatible after the wedding.”

Christ. That was her thought process? To think I’d almost married a genius.

“You thought wrong.”

Two minutes later, I slammed the door in her face (after she put some clothes on, thank fuck) and fished my phone out of my pocket to text Judith.

Célian: Lily knows.

Jude: So does Milton. He was here when I came home. I’m telling my dad the truth about breaking up with him tonight. We need a game plan.

Célian: George Michael.

Jude: ?

Célian: George Michael is our plan. We’re coming out.

Jude: Did you just make a Grayson joke?

Célian: Is that Gary’s real name?

Jude: <sent a GIF of Ross from Friends bumping his fists>

Célian: At any rate, Lily is threatening to blackmail me by claiming I’m harassing you. Am I fucking you against your will, Miss Humphry?

Jude: No. But I don’t want the stigma of being “that girl” at work.

Célian: What stigma is that? We’re not getting married. We’re fucking each other casually and consensually. No one is getting promoted anytime soon.

Jude: Right.

I wanted to diminish the weight she had in my world, knowing it could very well crush me if I wasn’t careful.

I hated how the thought of coming clean and telling everyone we were together secretly appealed to me, even though it was about to kill my reputation and make Judith’s life twenty times harder at work.

Most of all, I hated that I was going to hurt her.

Not because she deserved it, but because I didn’t know how not to.

Guilt nibbled at my gut as Dad exclaimed how happy he was for me. For us.

Of course, I’d sugarcoated the situation to the point that it looked like a churro.

Instead of telling him I was now blissfully single and screwing my heartless boss, I painted a picture in soft pinks and vivid baby blues, in which Célian and I had fallen desperately in love with and decided to be together. He swallowed the entire thing and asked for seconds—came clean about the experimental treatment and said he loved Célian like a son. Like. A. Son.

Dad begged me to invite Célian for dinner in the capacity of a normal couple, and I caved, mostly because I knew Célian would not turn us down. Since he’d opted for not getting back with Lily, any united front we were going to offer would surely help our case. Plus, who the hell knew what we were?

Sometimes it felt like a relationship.

Oftentimes like a dirty secret.

Sometimes he ran cold.

Many times he burned hot.

On Monday morning, everyone walked into the first rundown meeting looking grim and overworked. I placed Kipling on the desk and slid into my usual seat, popping open a big white box of donuts.

“Habit’s gonna get you broke, girl.” Kate picked a chocolate-glazed one, greeting me by bumping her thigh against my shoulder.

“That’s like threatening a nun with a crucifix. I already am.” I licked the powdered sugar off a pastry as Jessica handed Kate and me some coffee.

“How was your weekend?” they both asked in unison, but Kate peppered the question with a knowing grin.

She and Célian were close, but he was still a vault, so I opted for vagueness.

“Relaxing?” Oh, sweet. I put a question mark there. That wasn’t suspicious.

“That’s one thing I don’t believe.”

The entire room raised a collective eyebrow as Célian breezed through the door. He looked both pissed and perfect in a pale gray suit, his frown was so deep I could barely make out his eyes. Brianna shadowed his steps, sliding his Starbucks and iPad in front of his seat.

“I would ask how everyone’s weekend was, but that would imply that I give a fuck. And I don’t, because we have bigger fish to fry. I’m talking whale-sized ocean creatures. This is the first and last time I will address this subject, so feel free to never ask me again.”

He dumped his phone and some documents on the desk, shooing his PA away. “LBC just signed a clusterfuck of an ad deal with a marketing firm that specializes in alcohol, condoms, and gambling. You will hear about it in the media and in your local high-end bars and on goddamn Twitter. Do not engage. As far as we’re concerned, we’re making unbiased news. Period. Understood?”