CLAUSE 5: PUBLIC DISPLAYS & SOCIAL MEDIA
5.1 Unified Front. The Parties shall present a unified and consistent narrative of their relationship across all public and private interactions. Any deviation from the established timeline or nature of their relationship must be mutually agreed upon in writing.
5.2 Social Media Conduct. Party B (Monroe) shall grant Party A (Shaw) or his designated representative administrative-level access to all personal social media accounts for the duration of the Term. All posts, images, or communications referencing Party A, Shaw Holdings, or the relationship shall be pre-approved.
5.3 Image Management. The Parties agree to participate in periodic, staged photography sessions to cultivate a curated digital and public portfolio of their relationship, the timing and content of which shall be determined by Party A.
5.4 Interview & Media Protocol. Neither Party shall grant interviews or make public statements regarding their relationship without the prior written consent of the other Party. All such interactions shall be guided by pre-approved talking points.
— Clause 5, the Matrimonial Cohabitation and Non-Disclosure Agreement.
The air in Malachai Shaw's office is frigid and full of enough tension to bottle and sell.
I stand frozen between my best friend and my fake boyfriend, soon to be fake fiancé, soon to be fake husband, my heart making very impressive attempts to beat its way out of my chest.
It's not like I intended to keep Sloane out of the loop. I was going to break the news to her gently, at a nice brunch, with mimosas and a carefully curated story. I didn't count on Sloane storming the forty-third floor like an avenging angel in a pantsuit.
And she looks the part. Her short, dark bob is sharp enough to cut, and her brown eyes were narrowed into slits, darting between Malachai and me with a focused intensity, like a predator deciding which of us to eviscerate first.
Malachai, to his credit, looks utterly unphased. He gives a slight, dismissive nod to the security guard. "That's alright, Jett. She's a guest. You can return to your post."
Jett doesn't need to be told twice. He bows and skedadles out of the office, the door clicking shut behind him.
Malachai's attention returns to Sloane. His pink lips morph into a polite smile. "You must be Sloane..."
He doesn't mention her surname because I didn't tell him her surname because I'm an idiot and I've barely spoken about her to him.
Malachai holds out his hand and lies through his teeth. "I've heard so much about you."
Sloane folds her arms. Her gaze sweeps from his offered hand to his face, her mouth a flat, unimpressed line. "Not my last name, it seems."
I wince. Shit.
Malachai smoothly retracts his hand and slips it into his pocket. "Well," he says, voice a low hum, "there are a lot more interesting things about a person than their name."
Sloane gives a single, conceding nod. "Still, it's funny how I've heard little about you other than your name and the fact that you're an ass—"
"Okay, Slo!" I jump in before she can say anything too unhinged. My voice is an octave too high. "It was so nice of you to drop by, but Mr. Shaw and I have to get back to work."
Sloane's hard, angry eyes snap to me. Coupled with her severe bob, she looks like a pissed off owl. "Thank you for reminding me you're not off the hook. I asked you, Juniper." Her voice cracks, revealing the raw hurt beneath the fury. "I knew you were hiding something from me, and I asked, and you lied to me! I don't keep things from you and I don't lie to you! I told you when I almost joined that polycule, for God's sake!"
I shrink back, guilt pooling like black sludge in my stomach. She was right.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, the sadness welling up. "I wanted to tell you, I really did. It's just…"
Everything about my relationship is a lie.
Malachai steps in to cover our asses. "I asked her to keep our relationship a secret," he explains. "Given my status, I thought it would be best to keep it under wraps. I made her promise not to tell a soul."
Sloane's glare pivots back to him, her eyes narrowing further. "Yet, you kissed her in public."
A faint, challenging smirk touches his lips. "How do you know she didn't kiss me?"
"What do you even know about Juniper?" Sloane fires back, ignoring his question entirely.
Malachai opens his mouth, no doubt ready to pull some more shit out of his ass.
"And if you say any generic shit like 'she's kind' and 'brave,'" Sloane cuts him off, her voice dropping to a deadly calm, "I'll beat you up, defend myself in court, and win."
Malachai's mouth snaps shut. A bizarre thrill shoots through me. I'd never seen anyone render him speechless before.
Sloane turns her cross-examination back to me. "And you? What do you even know about Mister Suit and Tie over here? What's his favourite band?"
"You don't know his favourite band," I argue.
"Yeah, but I'll know if you know. Now answer the question."
My mind goes blank. I grasp at the first name that floats to the surface. "The Beatles?"
Sloane scoffs and hooks a thumb at Malachai. "Please. If a man like that is listening to any British guys, it's probably… I don't know… fucking Catfish and the Bottlemen." She wrinkles her nose. "Gross, by the way."
From beside me, Malachai mutters in a voice so quiet I almost miss it, "What's wrong with Catfish?"
I have to end this now. Before we dig ourselves into an even deeper hole.
Besides, if things continue like this, my headache's going to come back with the force of a volcano erupting.
"Look, Sloane," I say, my voice trembling with an honesty I can't fake. "It was hard to get to know each other when we had to hide from everyone. But we don't have to do that anymore and Malachai is really good for me. After Liam, I…" The words catch in my throat, the ghost of that pain still potent. "He's good for me," I repeat, firmer this time, pouring every ounce of conviction I have into the lie. "And I know you're worried, but I'm happy. So, please. Be happy for me."
The silence that follows is heavy, punctuated only by the distant hum of the city. I watch the fight drain from Sloane's shoulders. She closes her eyes and lets out a long, weary sigh. When she opens them again, the anger is gone, replaced by a familiar, resigned affection.
"I am happy for you, J," she says softly. "I'm just mad that you lied to me."
I give her my best puppy-dog eyes. "Forgive me?"
"Yeah, yeah. You know I will. For now." She checks her watch. "I need to get back to work."
"I'll walk you out." I turn to Malachai. "Is that okay?"
He nods. "Of course."
Before I can move to herd Sloane towards the door, Malachai stops me with a gentle touch on my hand. He lifts my fingers to his lips, his eyes locked on mine. The kiss is soft, more a whisper of warmth against my skin than an actual touch. It sends heat creeping up my neck to my face. My mouth falls slightly open in both shock and something else entirely.
Those stormy eyes inspect my face like I'm a priceless painting. "I'll see you soon," he whispers, gently lowering my hand.
"I'll only be a few minutes," I manage, sounding daft.
Sloane clears her throat loudly. The heat creeping up my neck reaches my face and floods my cheeks. I grab her hand and practically drag her out of the office. "Let's go."
"It was nice meeting you!" Malachai calls after us.
Sloane calls back, "Likewise!"
Once the door is shut behind us, Sloane elbows me in the ribs. "What a gentleman."
I bite the inside of my cheek, the phantom heat of his lips still tingles.
It's not real, Juniper. It's not real.
"He's sweet," I force out.
"And this is the same Malachai Shaw you'd call me to bitch about every day after you got the job?" Sloane asks.
I ignore the stares from a cluster of accountants. "He's still my boss. I'm allowed to bitch about work."
Sloane chuckles as I summon the elevator. "Well, he's different in person, I'll give him that. More… intense than he looks in his pictures. But incredibly polite." Her voice drops to a whisper as the elevator doors open and we step inside, alone. "I swear to fuck, I thought he was in the Mafia."
I almost trip over my own feet. "What?"
"C'mon, can you blame me?" she says, rolling her eyes. "Rich man from a family of dubious wealth, shady dealings, underground ties to the government and law enforcement?"
My heart is in my throat. "Isn't that every billionaire?"
Sloane raised her hands in mock surrender. "True."
I twiddle my thumbs nervously. "To be fair, I thought the same."
"Yeah? Why?"
I say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Rich man from a family of dubious wealth, shady dealings, underground ties to the government and law enforcement."
Sloane laughs loudly. It bounces off the walls of the elevator. "On the bright side, Seattle never had a strong Mafia presence and it's not the fucking 1980's. Must be the suit."
I smile, a genuine one this time. "Definitely the suit."
I've never seen Malachai out of one. In my head, he wears them to bed.
The elevator spits us out into the lobby where there are now fewer people, but still enough to glance our way. I feel their eyes like pinpricks.
"Must be tough though, dealing with all this," Sloane saya, gesturing loosely at the judgmental space.
I shrug. "I'll get used to it."
"That you will. Still, I need to know," She stops walking and turns to face me, her expression turning serious again. "Are you being coerced into a relationship with him?"
"No!" The word comes out too loudly. I lower my voice. "I'm not. We're together because we want to be and… I actually enjoy his company, when he's not bossing me around."
It's true, more or less.
Sloane hums. "That's fine. Just… be careful. Men like him know they can buy their way out of consequences."
I reply, "I'll be fine."
I think.
Once we're out on the street, Sloane pulls me into a hug. I squeeze her back tightly.
"If you're ever in any trouble at all…" she starts.
I finish for her. "I'll call the most kickass lawyer in Washington to save my ass."
"You know that's right!" She smacks said ass, making me jump.
"Slo!"
She walks away laughing. "Talk to you later!"
I watch her until she turns the corner and disappears. Only then do I let out a breath I didn't realize I've been holding. Without her warm hug, the wet Seattle chill sinks into my skin. I wrap my arms around myself.
Well. Time to go back upstairs and face the music.
Before I can turn, a familiar voice husks behind me. "You must be freezing."
My favourite fluffy wool coat comes to rest on my shoulders. Malachai's hands rub my arms through the thick material before he lets go. I don't need to look to know people are watching from inside.
"It doesn't take that long say goodbye," I say quietly. "I was just about to head back in."
"But why?"
"Because we have work?" There's no way he's forgotten that.
He sounds like he's holding back laughter, "Not anymore."
I turn around to face him, confusion on my face. "I don't understand."
Malachai looks… sheepish. It's an expression I've never seen on his face, a boyish awkwardness that makes him seem suddenly, disarmingly human. He rubs the back of his neck.
"Well, we're already behind schedule. There's no point in scrambling to make up for lost time." His earnest eyes meet mine. "So… will go out with me? I want to get to know you better."