Chapter 60

Howard's POV

I maintained my customary brisk pace through the Howard Technologies corridors, the small team of stylists following several steps behind.Susan had assembled them with remarkable efficiency.

Approaching Annie's office, I observed through the glass partition that she appeared to be preparing to leave her desk. Perhaps for her customary afternoon break-a habit I'd noted but never commented on, recognizing its value in her creative process. My watch indicated 2:17 PM. Perfect timing.

I entered without knocking, the styling team following behind me in a practiced formation. Annie looked up, her expression shifting from concentration to confusion as she registered the unexpected entourage.

The lead stylist-Vanessa, if I recalled correctly-stepped forward,her gaze shifting between Annie and myself with professional assessment.

"Mr. Thompson," she inquired with practiced deference, "is she the one we'Il be styling today?"

I nodded once. "Yes."

Annie's brow furrowed slightly-the particular expression she displayed when encountering unexpected variables. "What are they doing here?"

I explained matter-of-factly. "They're here to prepare you for tonight's charity gala."

Understanding dawned in her eyes,followed immediately by what appeared to be mild alarm. Before she could formulate an objection, the youngest stylist-an efficient brunette whose name escaped me-approached Annie with practiced confidence. "Please close your eyes," she instructed gently, already reaching for her cosmetics case.

Annie hesitated briefly before complying, her shoulders tensing slightly as the styling team converged around her. I observed the process from a strategic position near the door, noting Annie's discomfort with the attention. Despite her obvious unease, she remained still, permitting the professionals to work without interruption.

The makeup artist applied foundation with precise movements while another began arranging Annie's hair.

Annie maintained her composed exterior, but subtle indicators-the slight tension in her jaw, the controlled rhythm of her breathing-suggested internal resistance to the process. I found myself wondering about her thoughts. Based on previous patterns, she was likely calculating the productivity cost of this interruption to her work schedule, perhaps mentally rearranging her upcoming deadlines.

"You can open your eyes now," the makeup artist announced, stepping back to assess her work.

Another team member approached with a garment bag, unzipping it to reveal an elegant evening gown in deep navy blue. The stylist held it forward expectantly. "The restroom is just there if you'd like to change." Annie blinked several times, as though emerging from deep concentration.She accepted the dress with a slight nod before disappearing into the adjacent restroom. The styling team exchanged satisfied glances, making minor adjustments to their equipment while waiting. I maintained my position by the window,reviewing acquisition projections on my tablet while monitoring the situation peripherally.

When the bathroom door reopened, I instinctively glanced up, then found myself unable to return to the financial data before me.

The transformation was...remarkable.

Annie emerged in the navy blue gown, its design simultaneously sophisticated and understated. The styling team had selected perfectly-the dress complemented rather than overwhelmed her natural presence.Her hair, usually secured in a practical arrangement for work, now fell in soft waves that framed her face. The makeup enhanced rather than masked her features, drawing particular attention to her eyes.

I discovered myself unable to redirect my attention with my usual efficiency. Something about the contrast between this polished version of Annie and the focused professional I'd come to know created an unexpected cognitive disruption.

"Mr. Thompson, what do you think?" Vanessa prompted, interrupting my uncharacteristic mental wandering.

I registered the momentary lapse in my typical cognitive discipline and immediately reestablished control over my expression. "Very good,"I responded,maintaining my usual measured tone despite an unusual internal response I chose not to examine further. The styling team exchanged pleased glances before efficiently gathering their equipment. Within minutes, they had vacated the office, leaving Annie and me alone. She approached with measured steps, clearly unaccustomed to the formal footwear. Drawing a deep breath, she met my gaze directly. "Shall we go?" I extended my arm in a practiced gesture, noting the slight tremor in her hand as she placed it on my forearm. The involuntary physical response revealed her nervousness about the evening ahead-an understandable reaction given her limited exposure to high-society functions.

"Don't worry," I stated quietly, activating the reassurance protocol I typically reserved for Lucy's moments of anxiety. "Whatever happens,I'll protect you."

The tension in her shoulders eased fractionally. "All right then. I'm counting on you."

The Bentley glided to a stop at the entrance of the Huntington Estate,where the annual Children's Medical Research gala was being held.I exited first, circling the vehicle to open Annie's door personally-a deviation from standard protocol that felt appropriate for the evening's objectives.

Annie emerged carefully, instinctively aligning herself beside me as we approached the entrance. The evening air carried the fragrance of the estate's famous rose garden-hundreds of blooms climbing the wrought iron fencing that surrounded the property. The expansive grounds had been transformed for the occasion, with elegantly appointed tables arranged throughout the garden. A red carpet extended from the main gates to the grand ballroom, currently populated by a steady stream of New York's elite-business leaders, politicians, old-money families, and celebrities whose presence guaranteed media coverage for the charitable cause. We had barely stepped onto the carpet when I detected Annie's slight change in posture. Following her line of sight, I immediately identified the source of her discomfort-Philip Baker, positioned near the entrance, his attention fixed unmistakably in our direction.

Annie immediately redirected her gaze, a small but revealing gesture.

"He stalks you at the office when you're not attending events,." I observed quietly. "Then appears at events you do attend."

I modulated my voice to ensure privacy within our conversation. "Does it bother you?"

"Yes," Annie admitted simply.

"It reminds me of when Catherine Morgan used to follow me around,"I began, the comparison forming naturally.

"Are you talking about me?" Catherine's voice suddenly materialized from my peripheral vision, cutting my observation short.

I turned slightly to observe Catherine approaching. Her father, visible several yards behind her, appeared to be engaged with other guests.

"I was using you as an example," I stated neutrally despite being caught in an awkward conversational moment.

Catherine's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion before she glanced between Annie and myself. With a final look that communicated mild indignation,she turned and departed toward her father's location.

Once Catherine had moved beyond hearing range, I returned to our previous topic, conscious that the interruption had created a natural opening for my planned proposition. "I understood your current feelings," I continued, referencing her confirmation about Philip's unwanted attention. "But I recognized then, as is relevant now, that without implementing a strategic solution..." I deliberately paused, allowing Annie to anticipate my conclusion. "Philip Baker will continue his pursuit indefinitely," I completed my analysis.

Annie's expression reflected genuine concern. "Do you have a suggestion?"

I paused deliberately. "We could pretend to be in a relationship."

Annie's eyes met mine directly, her gaze analytical rather than immediately dismissive. "Is that really appropriate?"

I applied the same methodical approach I would to any strategic challenge."There are multiple individuals in my professional and personal circles applying pressure regarding my marital status. By establishing a perceived relationship with you, that pressure would be significantly reduced."

I didn't verbalize the secondary benefit-that such an arrangement would simultaneously discourage Philip's continued pursuit-trusting Annie to recognize this obvious conclusion independently.

Annie appeared to conduct her own internal analysis.

Say yes. Please say yes. My heart shouldn't be racing like this over a business arrangement... but it is.

"All right," she agreed.