C2: Deal or no deal

Elara woke the next morning to bright sunlight streaming through the large windows of the Aspen Suite. She stretched under the heavy comforter, feeling surprisingly well rested despite the new surroundings. The mountain air smelled fresh even inside the room. She dressed quickly in a soft cream sweater and comfortable jeans, then headed downstairs for breakfast.

The dining hall was quiet again. Rowan sat at the same table as the night before, this time with a stack of papers and a steaming mug of coffee. He looked up when she entered, and something in his expression shifted. Almost like relief mixed with hesitation.

“Morning,” she said cheerfully as she poured herself a cup of coffee from the side table. “Did you sleep at all, or did you stay up fighting with those blueprints?”

A faint twitch appeared at the corner of his mouth. “Some of both. Sit down. There is something I need to discuss with you.”

Elara joined him at the table. The breakfast spread was impressive. Fresh fruit, warm pastries, scrambled eggs with herbs, and thick slices of bacon. She filled her plate while waiting for him to speak. Rowan seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

He finally set his coffee down and met her eyes directly. “My biggest investor, Mr. Caldwell, is coming next weekend with his wife. They have been pushing me for years to settle down and show that I am stable enough to run this place long term. Last time we spoke, I may have implied that I finally have a girlfriend.”

Elara paused with a piece of pastry halfway to her mouth. “And you do not.”

“Obviously.”

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for the rest.

Rowan rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend while they are here. Just for one weekend. In exchange, I will give you full creative control over the resort’s re-launch event next month. You will have a real budget and complete freedom with ideas. Plus a glowing professional recommendation when you leave. Whatever you need to rebuild your career.”

Elara set her fork down slowly. The offer was tempting. Full creative control on a project like this could genuinely help restore her reputation. But pretending to be in a relationship with this intense, guarded man for an entire weekend felt risky.

“What exactly would this pretending involve?” she asked.

“Light touches in front of them. Sitting close. Looking comfortable together. We will come up with a simple story about how we met. No kissing unless it is absolutely necessary. No sharing a bed. We keep everything professional when we are alone.”

She studied him for a long moment. His stormy gray eyes held steady, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. This mattered to him more than he wanted to admit.

“Deal,” she said finally. “But I want one more thing. If this goes well and the investors commit, you let me plan a small soft opening event before the big re-launch. Just to test ideas.”

Rowan nodded. “Agreed.”

They spent the rest of the morning working out their fake story at the dining table. They decided they had met four months ago in a Denver coffee shop when Elara accidentally spilled her latte on his laptop. He had been annoyed at first, but her smile and quick offer to buy him a new one had won him over. They had been dating quietly ever since, with her coming up to the resort on weekends.

The practice sessions began right after lunch. Rowan stood in the middle of the empty ballroom, looking awkward in a way that almost made her laugh.

“Show me how you would introduce me to the Caldwells,” he said.

Elara stepped closer and slipped her arm through his. “This is my boyfriend, Rowan Hale. He owns this beautiful resort and works far too hard.”

His arm felt strong and warm under her hand. She could feel the muscle flex slightly at her touch. When she looked up at him, their faces were closer than she expected. His gaze dropped to her mouth for a brief second before he cleared his throat and stepped back.

They practiced more details. Favorite things about each other. How they spent their evenings together. Rowan struggled with the personal questions at first, but slowly he began opening up.

“You make everything feel lighter,” he said during one round, his voice quieter than before. “Even when you are driving me crazy with your endless optimism.”

Elara felt warmth bloom in her chest. “That is actually really good. Use that one.”

By late afternoon they moved on to dancing. The investor’s welcome dinner would include music, and Rowan insisted they should look natural. He started an old playlist on his phone. Soft, slow music filled the large ballroom.

He placed one hand on her lower back and took her other hand in his. The first few steps were stiff. He admitted he hated dancing. But as the song continued, something shifted. His grip on her waist became more confident. He pulled her a little closer with each turn until her body brushed against his.

Elara looked up at him. “You are better at this than you claimed.”

His thumb traced a small, slow circle on her lower back through her sweater. The gentle movement sent warmth spreading across her skin. “Maybe it is not so bad when I have the right partner.”

The air between them grew thick. Their steps slowed until they were barely moving. Elara could feel the steady beat of his heart where her hand rested on his chest. His head dipped lower. For a moment she thought he might kiss her. Their lips were only inches apart. She could feel his warm breath against her skin.

Then he pulled back abruptly and stepped away. “We should stop for today.”

Elara nodded, trying to ignore the disappointment that flickered through her. “Good idea. I still have actual work to do for the resort.”

That evening they ate dinner together again. This time the conversation flowed more easily. Rowan asked real questions about her past events and dreams. She teased him gently about his serious expression and got him to smile. A real one this time. Small, but genuine.

Later, when he walked her to her suite, they stopped outside her door just like the night before. The hallway felt smaller somehow.

“Thank you for doing this,” he said, voice low. “I know it is asking a lot.”

“I am getting something good out of it too,” she reminded him. But even as she said the words, she knew the lines were already starting to blur.

Rowan reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered at the side of her neck, warm and gentle. “Goodnight, Elara.”

“Goodnight, Rowan.”

She slipped into her room and leaned against the closed door, heart beating faster than it should. This was supposed to be fake. A simple business arrangement. Yet every touch, every shared look, every quiet conversation made it feel dangerously real.

She changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed, but sleep took a long time to come. Through the window she watched the snow falling softly, wondering how she was going to survive the next two weeks without catching real feelings for the grumpy, protective man downstairs.