First message
When Mark Curtis from marketing approached her in the break room, she spent several seconds staring at him in disbelief.
The quiet one.
The man who spoke only during meetings and disappeared in his papers the moment it ended.
After his request, she was even more shocked.
“I know how this sounds,” he began, nervously tightening his grip on his coffee mug. “But hear me out. I got divorced recently. Hailey, from the eighth floor. You know her.”
Of course she did. Everyone knew Hailey.
“Management wants everyone at the corporate party,” Mark continued. “She’ll be there too. Would you pretend to be my girlfriend for the evening?”
Then he fell silent. She did too.
The office around them carried on as usual, completely unaware that the quietest man in the company had just asked a colleague to fake-date him.
Mark exhaled slowly, already expecting rejection.
After all, he was just a marketing specialist.
Quiet. Reserved. Easy to overlook.
“I can do that,” she said simply. “Pick me up at seven. I’ll email you the address.”
Then she walked away as if she’d agreed to help with a spreadsheet.
Mark remained standing there with his coffee.
One minute passed.
Then another.
He was still trying to process what he had just done.