Chapter 2 Unseen Agendas Hidden Desires

Riley let out a weary sigh as she unlocked the door to her tiny apartment. The day had been a whirlwind of paperwork, new responsibilities, and constant reminders that her boss-the imposing, ever-confident Wyatt Walker-was the same man she'd spent one unforgettable night with just weeks before. She still couldn't believe he didn't recognize her. Part of her was relieved; another part of her felt strangely disappointed.

She slipped off her heels and headed straight for the living room, where her best friend, Ivy, sat cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through her phone. Ivy looked up the moment Riley walked in, concern written all over her face.

"Hey, you're home late," Ivy said, setting her phone aside. "How was work today?"

Riley hesitated, trying to decide how much she should reveal. Finally, she let out a slow breath. "You're not going to believe this," she began, dropping her bag onto a nearby chair. "My new boss is Wyatt Walker."

Ivy's eyes went wide. "Wait, you mean the Wyatt Walker? The tech genius everyone's always talking about? He's practically a celebrity!"

"That's the one," Riley confirmed, sinking onto the couch next to her friend.

"Wow." Ivy tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, trying to process the news. "How on earth did you manage to land a job working directly for him? Did you... I don't know, pull some strings or-" She paused, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. "Don't tell me you slept with him or something."

Riley's cheeks burned. She had hoped to ease into the subject, but Ivy's joke hit closer to home than she expected. "Actually," she said quietly, "I need you to promise to keep a secret."

Ivy's expression turned serious. "Of course. You know you can trust me."

Riley took a moment to collect her thoughts. "So...Wyatt Walker is the guy I had a one-night stand with a few weeks ago."

Ivy's jaw dropped. "No way! You slept with Wyatt Walker, and now you're working for him? That's insane!"

Riley managed a shaky laugh. "Tell me about it. The craziest part is he doesn't seem to recognize me at all. It's like that night never happened."

Ivy's surprise shifted to concern. "Are you sure you want him to know? What if it jeopardizes your job? I mean, he's your boss now-he could fire you if things get awkward."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Riley admitted. She picked at a loose thread on her blouse, her thoughts swirling with questions. "So, do you think I should bring it up? Tell him who I am?"

Ivy shook her head firmly. "No. If you open up about it, you could lose your job. Right now, he has no idea you're the same woman. It might be better to keep it that way-at least until you figure out what you really want."

"Wyatt Walker is your boss now-you have to keep it strictly professional," Ivy cautioned, her tone firm as she looked Riley in the eye.

Riley sighed, trying to mask the turmoil beneath her calm exterior. "Yes, he is my boss," she replied, her voice tinged with resignation as she adjusted the strap of her bag.

What Riley didn't know, however, was that Ivy's mind was already formulating a different plan-a mission of her own that went far beyond mere professional boundaries.

Riley nodded slowly, her mind heavy with worry. She didn't know what the future held, but one thing was certain: working for Wyatt Walker was going to be far more complicated than she had ever imagined.

Immediately after her conversation with Riley, Ivy's phone buzzed with an urgent call from Jordan, Wyatt's manager. With a determined glint in her eye, Ivy answered, "I'm on it." Wyatt Walker needed a fake girlfriend for upcoming events, and Jordan had already secured Ivy for the role.

Once the call ended, Ivy moved with a cold efficiency. She poured two glasses of wine, her hands steady as she discreetly slipped a sleeping pill into Riley's glass. Approaching her friend with a practiced smile, Ivy raised her glass. "Cheers to your new job," she said lightly, offering the drink to Riley.

Riley, unsuspecting, accepted the wine. The rich aroma of red wine mingled with the quiet hum of the apartment as she sipped slowly. Within minutes, the sleeping pill began to take effect. Her eyelids grew heavy, and before long, Riley excused herself to her room. She collapsed onto her bed, drifting into an unplanned slumber.

Ivy's smile faded as she glanced around the room, her mind racing. She quickly began packing a small bag with essentials-a few changes of clothes, her phone, and a set of keys. Murmuring under her breath, she whispered, "I need to get out of here before Riley wakes up." The thought of being seen by Wyatt under these circumstances was one she could not risk.

With practiced stealth, Ivy slipped out of the apartment, the quiet click of the door the only sound marking her departure. As she made her way to the pickup spot arranged by Wyatt, Ivy couldn't help but reflect on the precarious balancing act she was about to perform. In a world where every encounter was a carefully orchestrated performance, one misstep could shatter everything. Tonight, Ivy was determined to remain unseen and unfettered-ready to play the role Wyatt's manager had so urgently scripted.

After leaving the apartment, Ivy was waiting by a sleek, black car when a sharply dressed man greeted her. "Wyatt isn't coming," he explained casually. "He's busy-so they sent me instead." His tone was businesslike, and Ivy couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension.

Just as she stepped toward the car, Ivy noticed a photographer lurking nearby. "Hey, someone's taking pictures of me," she murmured, glancing around with a mixture of annoyance and worry.

The man smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, Ivy. It's all part of the plan. Mr. Wyatt has arranged for his press contacts to spread the word that he's been seen with his long-term girlfriend."

Ivy raised an eyebrow. "So, they're going to publish photos of me?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "They've been instructed to blur your face for privacy reasons. Mr. Wyatt wants to keep your identity discreet."

Still uneasy, Ivy pressed further, "Is something wrong? I thought girls loved having their faces shown." There was a hint of sarcasm in her tone, but her eyes betrayed her concern.

The man gave a small, understanding nod. "Not in this case. Wyatt insists on discretion. Now, if you don't mind, Mr. Williams-our driver-will take you where you need to go." He gestured toward a waiting chauffeur who offered a polite nod from the open car door.

With a reluctant sigh, Ivy climbed into the passenger seat. As the door closed behind her, the tension in the cool night air mixed with her swirling thoughts. The car's engine hummed quietly as Mr. Williams began driving through the city streets.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Mr. Williams asked in a soft, reassuring voice, "Everything all right, miss?"

Ivy forced a small smile. "Yes, I'm fine," she replied, though her mind was anything but calm. The elaborate setup-being paraded as Wyatt's fake girlfriend-had her questioning her next move. The city lights blurred past the window as she contemplated the delicate balance between maintaining professionalism and protecting her own identity.

Deep down, Ivy knew that tonight was only the beginning of a carefully orchestrated performance, one in which every move would be scrutinized and every detail controlled. As the car pulled away, Ivy braced herself for the unpredictable twists ahead, determined to navigate this dangerous game on her own terms.

After a short drive, the sleek car pulled up to Wyatt's sprawling mansion. Ivy was greeted at the grand entrance by a prim, composed housekeeper named Mrs. Elizabeth. With a courteous nod, Mrs. Elizabeth led Ivy through the marble-floored hallways until they reached a tastefully decorated guest room.

"This is your room, Miss Ivy," Mrs. Elizabeth announced in a measured tone. "Please note, Mr. Wyatt stays in the west wing, and there are strict rules-you are not to enter his private chambers."

Ivy's eyes scanned the elegant room, taking in the luxurious furnishings and soft lighting. Despite the plush surroundings, an undercurrent of tension rippled beneath her calm exterior.

Suppressing a wry smile, Ivy replied, "Well, what are you waiting for? Go fetch the rest of my bags."

Mrs. Elizabeth bowed her head slightly and retreated to retrieve Ivy's belongings, leaving her alone with her thoughts in the quiet, opulent space. Ivy set her bags down, her mind already churning with plans and apprehensions. The mansion, with its secret corridors and hushed rules, was a world away from everything she knew-an elaborate stage set for a role she never auditioned for.