Claire’s fingers curled around the seat belt. She avoided Miles’s eyes.
She had already ended things with Jacob, but her own motives weren’t exactly innocent. The truth still made her feel guilty.
Claire lowered her eyes, lashes trembling lightly. "Mr. Sinclair is my boss. Ms. Warren is the head of my department. Of course I don’t want to run into either of them when I’m off the clock."
Her tone stayed light. The explanation made perfect sense.
Miles gave a quiet "Mm" and didn’t ask anything else. His dark eyes revealed nothing.
He opened his door, then said quietly, "Yvonne’s young, and the family spoiled her. She doesn’t always think before she acts. If she gives you trouble at work, tell me."
Claire looked up at him, her heart giving a hard little jump.
’Is he backing me up?’
There was also what he’d done at the bar. A man like Miles should hate getting involved in other people’s drama.
It had to be because she reminded him of the woman he’d never gotten over. Maybe some of that old affection was spilling onto her.
"Thank you, Dr. Warren."
They sat across from each other in a quiet private dining room. After Claire asked about her mother’s condition, an awkward silence settled in, and she kept searching for things to talk about.
Miles stayed quiet, offering little more than a nod here or a shake of the head there—polite, distant, impossible to read.
Then the server brought dessert, a mango coconut custard.
Miles spoke before the plate reached the table. "She’s allergic to mango. Could you bring something else?"
Claire stared at him. "Dr. Warren, how did you know I’m allergic to mango?"
Miles’s hand paused as he set down his fork. Something moved in his eyes, then disappeared just as quickly.
"Shirley is allergic to tropical fruit. That kind of sensitivity can run in families. It wasn’t hard to guess."
Claire’s gaze wavered.
Seven years with Jacob, and he had never remembered her allergy. Once, he’d even ordered her a mango cake for her birthday.
She had told him more than once. Every time, Jacob would pull her into his arms and say he had too much on his mind and forgot.
She should have understood sooner. People remembered the things that mattered to them. She simply hadn’t mattered enough.
"What are you thinking about?"
"N-Nothing." Claire smiled. "I was just thinking you’re really thoughtful. Any woman who dated you would be pretty lucky."
The room went quiet for a beat.
"No one," Miles said simply. "I’ve never dated anyone. But I have been lied to."
His voice was quiet, but the words landed with unexpected weight.
He slowed over the last four words, emphasizing each one.
The way Miles looked at her made Claire’s chest feel strangely heavy.
’So the woman who lied to him must be the one he never got over. Is that why he seems to both love and hate me?’
No wonder his moods around her changed so fast.
Apparently being a stand-in came with more complications than she expected.
"That girl had terrible judgment. How could anyone lie to someone as good as you? That’s awful."
Claire tried hard to sound completely on his side, but her voice grew quieter as she went.
Miles was looking at her in a very strange way.
After dinner, Claire decided she had pushed enough for one night and didn’t try to keep him longer.
"Don’t forget to try on the shirt, Dr. Warren."
She drew out the words teasingly. "I made every stitch to fit your measurements."
Claire stayed at a nearby hotel for the night.
She was just drifting off when a message from Miles came through.
A photo of him wearing the shirt.
She was instantly wide awake.
The clean tailoring fit Miles perfectly. The modern heritage-inspired details made him look even more refined. With that calm, unreadable face, he looked like the kind of cold, untouchable hero straight out of a romance novel.
He had added one short message.
[The shirt fits. Thank you.]
’With that kind of sex appeal, he’d sell out every shirt if he modeled for me.’
Claire typed a reply, deleted it, typed another, then deleted that too.
Then her thumb slipped, and she accidentally sent a sticker.
Two animated figures. One behind the other.
And what they were doing was definitely not something she wanted Miles to see.
The caption made it worse: [Bro I’m gonna make you feel real good tonight.]
Claire’s hand jerked so hard she nearly threw her phone.
She hit Unsend immediately.
’Please tell me he didn’t see that. He couldn’t have been staring at his phone this whole time.’
Claire stopped overthinking and quickly sent, [You’re welcome.]
She had used up all her emotional energy on that one frantic unsend.
Never again. She was done saving the ridiculous stickers Wendy sent her.
Then another message appeared.
[Ms. Kendall, that won’t be necessary.]
’What does he mean, "won’t be necessary"?’
Claire’s eyes widened.
’He’s seen it?!’
***
The next morning at Sinclair Design, Claire stepped into the office and found a crowd gathered around Yvonne, voices full of envy.
"That diamond is huge. I’ve never seen one that big in real life."
"How much did that cost? Ms. Warren, your fiancé spoils you."
"Yvonne’s gorgeous and comes from an amazing family. He’s the lucky one."
"But who is your fiancé anyway? You’ve kept him so secret. Don’t tell me it’s someone we know."
Everyone traded knowing smiles. They already had a pretty good guess.
Yvonne’s gaze passed through the crowd and landed on Claire.
She deliberately raised her right hand and turned it, making the large diamond flash in the sunlight.
Her voice went extra sweet. "He bought this one just for me to wear at the engagement party. For the wedding, we’re having a completely custom ring made in Europe. Girls, rings mean something. Don’t waste years dating a man who won’t even put one on your finger."
The message was aimed directly at Claire.
Claire’s expression never changed. She gave a faint smile and walked into Moonstone Studio.
’He’s trash. What’s there to brag about?’
At lunch, Jacob came down to the design department and headed straight for Moonstone Studio.
He shut the door behind him.
The moment Claire saw him, her brows tightened.
Jacob casually pulled a velvet box from his pocket.
"Bought this at the mall yesterday. See if you like it."
Jacob opened the box. Inside sat an enormous blue diamond ring.
It was even bigger and brighter than Yvonne’s.
Claire looked down at it. He had gone shopping for his fiancée’s engagement ring and still remembered to pick up something for his "other woman."
The way he tried to keep both women happy made her sick.
"Mr. Sinclair, we’re broken up. There’s no reason for you to buy me gifts."
Disdain flickered in Jacob’s charming eyes.
"Still playing hard to get? You tell me not to buy you things, but you made me a shirt."
He looked toward the display rack and stopped mid-sentence.
The shirt that had been hanging there yesterday was gone.
And he hadn’t received it.
Claire followed his stare to the empty rack and finally understood what he meant.
Her voice stayed cold. "Mr. Sinclair, you misunderstood. That shirt wasn’t for you."
The smile froze on Jacob’s face.
"Not for me?" His eyes turned dangerous. "Claire, that’s not funny."
He came around the desk, closing in on her step by step.
"If it wasn’t for me, then who was it for? All these years, I’ve known about every man who even looked twice at you."
Claire raised her eyes to meet his furious stare. Her voice stayed calm and clear.
"Jacob, we’re over. How many men are around me and who they are has nothing to do with you."
Jacob grabbed her wrist and yanked her toward him. His other hand caught her chin roughly and forced her to look at him.
He searched her face for any sign that she was lying.
"Besides me, who else would you go to that much trouble to make a shirt for? So this is your new game? You knew I saw it, so you deliberately kept it from me to keep me guessing?"
His voice stayed very low, the office around them forcing him to hold back his anger.
"Playing hard to get only works until you take it too far."