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I stepped harder on the gas, driving Demi and me back to the apartment. The interview was called to a stop right after that and while City Scoop was working on taking it down, it was already everywhere. I was still angry. That anger died down by the time we reached the apartment and Demi was smart enough to not utter a single word to me until then.

She headed to the kitchen, stepping out of the elevator first and I followed her, taking the suit off, throwing the jacket on the couch and my tie with it before entering the kitchen and sitting on a barstool. She took her jacket off as well, leaving it on the barstool on her side of the counter before sitting on the other one. She rested her arms on the table and we sat in silence, just staring at each other. She sighed softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Do you want anything?" She stood up, rubbing her hands against her pants.

"Are you making lunch?" I asked.

"I can if you want me to. What do you feel like eating?"

"Anything," I mumbled, watching as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

"I'll make some lasagna then. Does that work?"

I nodded, my eyes following her around the kitchen while she prepared everything and started making the lasagna. "Demi."

"Hmm?" She glanced at me over her shoulder.

"There's something I need to ask you."

"Yeah?"

I paused, not knowing if this was the right time to ask this or if this was even the right question to ask. "Do you regret it?"

She stopped, turning to me. "Regret what? The interview?"

"No."

She thought for a minute before realization flickered across her eyes. "Regret what?" she asked.

"You know what."

"Why are you asking me this?"

"I'm curious. And because I never said I regretted it."

"You did."

"No. I said we were drunk. You said we probably regretted it," I replied. "So... Do you? Regret it?"

She took in a breath and thought. "I don't... really remember it, Vince. But no. No, I don't regret it. I just regret..."

"Being drunk?"

She nodded, humming softly.

"Because you know you probably wouldn't have let it happen if you were sober?"

Her brows furrowed. "What? No. Just because I would have remembered it if I wasn't drunk."

"Would you do the same thing if you were sober?"

"I don't know," she said slowly, turning back around and continuing to cook. "Why are you asking me this?"

"To see how much of what I said in the interview was a lie," I sighed, deciding to change the subject. "Tell me we're not going tonight."

"We are," she replied, "I already ordered you a new suit from your stylists' team."

"I have a hundred and they all look the same."

She shrugged, "Now you have a hundred and one."

"What about your dress?"

"I'll find something. I think I should unpack the box with the dresses first, otherwise, I'd have to—"

"Buy a new one," I suggested.

She turned to me, turning the oven on and slipping the tray inside. "Why? I have a few good ones."

"Tiffany."

"Yes, sir?"

"This is a huge party. Ace Allister is a billionaire."

"So are you," she said pointedly.

"Which is why I'm wearing an expensive suit. And which is why my girlfriend needs an expensive dress."

She lifted a brow. "So?"

"So, let me buy you a dress after we've eaten. I'll take you shopping."

"Why would you take me shopping?"

I stared at her. "Because I promised to take care of all your expenses including the debt? That includes things like this and I signed a contract. Now, I'm a man of my word. Understood?"

She nodded softly, sitting on the barstool. "Understood." We sat in silence again, just watching each other. "You seem angry," she stated calmly.

"I am."

"Why? Didn't the interview go to plan?"

"It did, but I'm angry that I let him say those things about you." I paused, realizing what that sounded like. "And me," I added. "I'm angry I didn't say anything to the public when it happened."

"Don't be. You did what you were told to do by your agency. You lay low."

"Only that didn't work. It just ruined my reputation and tarnished yours with me."

"And that bothers you?"

"Of course it does. I'm the reason you're in the mess."

She sighed, "It's a rather fun mess. I get to be star hockey player, Vince Hunter's girlfriend in the media. I get to live in a penthouse apartment with all my expenses taken care of."

"With a horrible boss," I reminded her.

She smiled slowly, lazily. "You're not that bad this time around. Maybe you're confusing the boss aspect with the boyfriend one."

I rolled my eyes, scoffing, "Please. In my mind, I'm nothing but your boss and you're nothing but my assistant."

"You sure?"

My eyes narrowed at her and she laughed softly. "What am I in your mind?" I asked.

"In my mind?" She stood up, taking out two water bottles from the fridge, sliding one to me. "You're someone I trust." Her eyes met mine. "I trust you. Do you trust me?"

I hesitated.

"I know you didn't at first. It's why you had a contract. You thought I'd back out on you. It's why you're paying the debt in installments. But Vince, I'd never back out on you."

I waited and asked, "Why not?"

"Because you're a big part of my life, whether I like it or not. I worked for you for two years, that's a long time. And I did everything for you at the time, everything I could do, everything you needed me to do as your assistant. If I already did all that, why would I back out instead of just doing a little more?" She lifted a brow at me. "So? Do you trust me now?"

I thought about all the times since we signed the contract that she stuck to the plan. Every single time. She played the perfect girlfriend, she convinced my parents when I couldn't, she moves in sync with me. We're able to pull lies off like they're rehearsed even when they aren't.

I nodded. "I trust you."

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

I decided to wait in my room until she was ready rather than going and knocking on her door when I was done. I was reading through some articles about how City Scoop ruins careers and I was apparently the first to call them out on it, and that was when she knocked on my door. I stood up, slipping my phone into my pocket and grabbing the car keys and my wallet before I got the door.

She looked up, offering me a grin. "Hi."

I stared down at her, blinking. "Hi," I mumbled.

She looks... really pretty. The black gown she picked earlier fit her perfectly. It ran past her legs, the fabric spreading across the floor. The gown was tighter around her waist and the neckline dipped down at her chest while the two bands sat right below her shoulders, holding the dress up. She had on black heels that matched the dress and a diamond necklace that I've never seen before. Her hair was straightened and pulled up into a sleek high ponytail. She had on some makeup, a few sparkles here and there, and her lashes seemed longer, her lips glossy.

The thought of kissing her flashed in my mind and I banished it quickly.

"Do I look decent?" she asked knowingly.

"You look... beautiful, actually."

She blinked in surprise, staring at me. "Did you just call me beautiful?"

"Well, the dress is beautiful. I picked it, didn't I?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes.

"Where did you get the necklace?" I asked.

She glanced down at it. "My dad bought it for me when I graduated college. I never got a chance to wear it, actually. But I thought it matched the dress." She had little diamonds in her ears that matched the necklace. "Do you not know how to compliment people? I'm just curious. Well anyway, I do. You look very handsome, Vince. But your tie is crooked." She took a step closer, fixing it for me.

We left shortly after that and I drove us to my Dad's house. By the time we arrived, there were plenty of cars and guests already there, so I walked in with Demi's arm in mine, we had quite a few people watching us.

She gasped softly beside me as we walked further into the main room where the party was being hosted. "There they are. Ace and Gianna." I followed her gaze. "Wow, he looks good," she mumbled.

My brows creased and I elbowed her gently.

She turned to be, blinking innocently. "What?"

"You're mine," I reminded her. "Remember that and tell him if you have to."

"They're married," she scoffed.

"I don't care. Everybody here better know and understand what I mean when I say that you are mine. Do you know what it means, Demi?"

"What does it mean, Vince?" She lifted a brow at me, daring.

I leaned down to her level, my face only a few inches from hers, my lips ready to meet hers. "It means you don't get to smile, charm, or flirt with any other man here. I don't even want you looking at anyone. Anyone but me."

She watched me in amusement while I pulled her closer to me as a guy walked past her. "Then the same rules apply to you," she said.

"Of course, they do. I don't even look at other girls. I haven't since we slept together, in case you haven't noticed."

She paused before mumbling, "I have. Noticed."

I held her gaze until we were interrupted. "Vince!" Mom called out. She was walking to us when I looked ahead. She stopped, smiling at me. "You look great. I'm so glad you could make it."

"I wasn't planning on coming," I admitted.

"Oh," she frowned, "then...?"

"Demi made me come." I glanced at her.

"Of course," Mom chuckled softly. "You should meet tonight's guests. They know all about you, you know."

"They do?" Demi and I mumbled simultaneously.

"He watches your games," Mom nodded.

"Who does?" I asked, just to be sure we were talking about tonight's big guests.

"I do."

I looked past her while he made his way over with a woman's arm linked with his. I take it these are the special guests.

"Oh my god," Demi whispered beside me.

I sent her an annoyed glance before turning to him as he stuck a hand out.

"I'm Ace. It's nice to meet you."

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