Page 56 of Faking it with my Bad Boy Crush

"Yes, you complete fool." She grabbed my face with both hands, forcing me to look directly at her. "I'm in love with you. Not because you saved my bakery, not out of guilt or gratitude or obligation. Because you're you. Because you show up at dawn with coffee and memorize coffee orders and build business plans at midnight. Because you see me—really see me—and value what I've built. Because you chose integrity over career and protecting someone else's legacy over your own future."

"But I don't have anything to offer you," I said, the words coming out desperate. "No job, no prospects, no—"

"I don't want your job or your prospects or your money." Her voice softened. "I want you. The person you've become. The man who chooses building over destroying even when it costs everything. The guy who argues with judges and defends mycredentials and looks at me like I'm the most remarkable person he's ever met."

My hands came up to cover hers, still framing my face. "You're sure? Because once Marcus's civil suit goes through, once the legal bills start piling up, once the reality of what I've lost actually hits—"

"Then we'll deal with it together." She leaned in closer. "I've been fighting alone for seven years, Ethan. I'm done fighting alone. And I think you are too."

"I am," I admitted. "I'm so tired of being alone. Of pretending I don't need anyone. Of convincing myself that career success is enough."

"It's not enough," Maya whispered. "I learned that when I left Canlis. Success without connection is just... empty."

I closed the distance between us, kissing her with everything I'd been holding back for two weeks. All the careful control, all the professional boundaries, all the fear that this couldn't be real—gone. This was Maya Romano kissing me back with fierce certainty, her hands tangled in my hair, her body pressed against mine like she was trying to eliminate every inch of space between us.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, I rested my forehead against hers.

"I thought you were letting me down easy," I said. "When you said end the arrangement. I thought you were telling me it was over."

"I was telling you the fake part was over." She laughed, the sound slightly breathless. "How did you misunderstand that badly?"

"Because I'm terrified," I admitted. "Because I fell in love with you and destroyed my entire career in the process, and I couldn't believe you'd actually want me after everything I'd lost."

"I want you more because of what you lost." Her hands came up to frame my face again. "Because you lost it doing the right thing. Because you chose protecting what matters over protecting yourself. That's not something to regret, Ethan. That's something to celebrate."

"Even if it means I'm unemployed and possibly broke?"

"Even then." She kissed me again, softer this time. "We'll figure it out. Together. That's what people do when they love each other. They figure it out."

"I love you," I said, needing to say it clearly, out loud, with no room for misunderstanding. "I fell in love with you somewhere between fake dating and real fighting, and I want to stay. I want to build a life here. With you. If that's something you actually want, and not just something you feel obligated to offer because of everything that's happened."

"If that's something I want?" Maya pulled back, her expression incredulous. "Ethan, I've been hoping you'd stay since I was fourteen. I want this. I want you. Completely, obligation-free, no fine print."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. We both ignored it.

"The independent survey results come out Monday," Maya said. "That's forty-eight hours to wait for confirmation of what we already know."

"That the fraud was real."

"That you were right. That everything you sacrificed was necessary." She took my hand, threading her fingers through mine. "And then what? What happens after Monday?"

"Then we fight Marcus's civil suit. And we figure out what comes next for me professionally. And we—" I hesitated, then decided to just say it. "We build something. Together. A life that actually matters."

"Together," Maya repeated, smiling. "I like the sound of that."

We sat on that bench for another hour, watching the sun move lower in the sky, talking about everything and nothing. About possibilities and plans. About fear and hope. About what it meant to choose love when everything else was uncertain.

My phone buzzed again. And again. I finally checked it—seventeen new messages, most from numbers I didn't recognize.

"You should probably look at those," Maya said.

I scrolled through them, my stomach sinking with each new message.

They were all news alerts. Articles about Friday's hearing. About the fraud I'd exposed. About the internal communications I'd disclosed.

But the headlines weren't celebrating the victory. They were questioning the ethics.

"Lawyer Discloses Privileged Communications in Fraud Case—Ethics Violation or Whistleblowing?"