Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Josh's Point of View

The clock on my office wall ticked past midnight as I stared at the email that could destroy everything we'd built. Dior wanted to pull Sara's contract. Someone had leaked information about her parents to the press, painting her as the daughter of murderers rather than the rising star she'd become.

My phone buzzed, the fifth call from Sara in the last hour. I let it go to voicemail, needing time to think without her presence clouding my judgment. Without the scent of her perfume or the way her eyes filled with trust when she looked at me.

The door opened anyway. Sara stood there in yoga pants and an oversized sweater, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. Beautiful in a way that made my chest ache.

"You can't ignore me forever," she said, closing the door behind her.

"I'm not ignoring you. I'm trying to fix this."

She moved closer, peering at my computer screen. "Fix what? Josh, what's going on?"

Her hair brushed my shoulder as she leaned in, and I forced myself to focus on the crisis at hand. "Someone talked to the press about Emily and Louis. Dior's threatening to cancel your contract."

"What?" She sank into the chair across from my desk. "But... they can't do that. Can they?"

"There's a morality clause." I ran a hand through my hair, frustration building. "They're claiming your connection to convicted murderers could damage their brand image."

"That's not fair! I didn't do anything wrong!"

"I know." The hurt in her voice made me want to pull her close, promise to make it all better. Instead, I pulled up the contract on my screen. "I think I found a loophole. If we can prove they knew about your background when they signed you..."

Sara moved to stand behind my chair, reading over my shoulder. Her breath tickled my neck, making it hard to concentrate on legal language.

"There," she pointed, finger brushing mine on the mouse. "They did know. Remember? Pierre mentioned my 'compelling backstory' during the shoot."

The tiny contact sent electricity through my arm. I shifted away, maintaining safe distance. "Good catch. But we need proof. Emails, meeting notes, anything showing they were aware."

"I think Eva recorded that conversation on her phone. She was taking videos of the quadruplets that day."

Now we had something. "Call her. Now."

Sara pulled out her phone, but paused before dialing. "Josh... why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

"I wanted to handle it."

"I'm not some fragile doll that needs protecting." Anger edged her voice. "These are my parents, my past, my career. I deserve to know what's happening."

She was right, of course. I'd been trying to shield her, just like I tried to shield my heart from how much I wanted her.

"You're right. I'm sorry." I met her eyes, seeing the strength there. "I should have told you immediately."

Her expression softened. "We're supposed to be a team."

Team. Partner. Manager. All these safe, professional words that didn't capture what she meant to me.

Eva answered on the third ring, voice thick with sleep. After explaining the situation, she promised to send the videos right away.

While we waited, Sara paced the office. The oversized sweater slipped off one shoulder, revealing smooth skin that drew my gaze like a magnet. I forced my attention back to the computer.

"What if we can't fix this?" she asked quietly. "What if my parents destroy my career before it really begins?"

"I won't let that happen." The fierce protectiveness in my voice surprised even me.

She stopped pacing, studying my face. "Why do you care so much?"

Because I'm falling in love with you. Because watching you hurt feels like physical pain. Because every time you smile, my world gets brighter.

"It's my job to care," I said instead.

"Just your job?"

The question hung between us, loaded with possibility. Before I could respond, my email pinged. Eva had sent the videos.

We found the crucial conversation in the third clip. Pierre clearly mentioned Sara's "fascinating family history" and how it added depth to her appeal. The Dior executives in the background nodded appreciatively.

"Got them," I said, already drafting a response to their legal team. "They can't claim ignorance now."

Sara's arms wrapped around me from behind, her cheek pressing against my hair. "Thank you."

I froze, every nerve ending aware of her touch. "Sara..."

"I know," she whispered. "Professional boundaries. But sometimes I just need to hug my hero."

Hero. If she knew the things I'd done in my past, she wouldn't use that word.

She pulled away slowly, her fingers trailing across my shoulders. "I should go. It's late."

"Take my car service," I said, not trusting myself to look at her. "Text me when you're home safe."

At the door, she paused. "Josh?"

"Hmm?"

"One day, you'll have to stop running from whatever you're afraid of."

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me alone with her words echoing in my mind. If she only knew what I was running from. What secrets lay in my past that could destroy not just her career, but her trust in me.

My phone lit up with a message. A photo of Sara in the car, making a silly face. "Almost home. Thank you for having my back."

I stared at her image until the screen went dark. Having her back was easy. Keeping my heart from her, that was the impossible task.

The night stretched ahead, full of contract negotiations and legal maneuvers. But all I could think about was the feel of her arms around me, and how dangerous it was to want more.