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Chapter Five – The Fake Date Plan
The next morning, Tina Rowe called Malik into her office like a principal summoning a student. No good morning. No small talk. Just a sharp, “Sit.”
Malik eased into the seat across from her, wearing a fresh white tee under a navy blazer, one foot casually crossed over the other. He’d just come from a breakfast interview with BuzzWeek — another stunt orchestrated by Tina’s team. He was becoming a professional boyfriend faster than he'd ever been a professional anything.
“You’re trending again,” she said, swiping through her tablet.
Malik grinned. “For my good looks or for my charm?”
“For your comparison of our relationship to Beauty and the Billionaire,” she replied flatly. “Which, for the record, was not in the approved messaging.”
“Relax,” he said. “It was a compliment. People love that stuff. It's relatable. Disney-level romance sells.”
She gave him a look so dry it could parch cacti.
“You’re improvising too much,” she said. “And it’s getting noticed.”
“Noticed like...bad noticed?”
“Not yet,” she admitted. “But if this keeps going off script, people might start digging. And if they find out this is fake before the IPO final review—”
“Stocks crash, board freaks out, and Tina Rowe loses her throne,” Malik said, nodding. “Got it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Silence fell between them. Not cold, not hostile—just... heavy.
She finally stood. “We’re going on a real fake date this weekend.”
Malik blinked. “A what now?”
“A date,” she said. “Dinner. Theater. Cameras. PDA. The works. We need to sell the illusion better. You’re too…casual.”
He pointed to himself. “You hired me because of my casual.”
“I hired you because I was desperate. Now I need precision.”
He leaned forward. “You want PDA? Me holding your hand in front of flashing lights is one thing. But if you want me to sell the ‘boyfriend experience’ at close range, you’re gonna have to work with me. Loosen up. Laugh at my jokes once in a while. Maybe look at me like I’m not just a tax write-off.”
Tina tilted her head. “Are you always this dramatic?”
He smiled. “Only when I like someone.”
That gave her pause.
---
Later That Day: Wardrobe Fitting, Again
Tina’s favorite personal stylist, Pascal, returned with a vengeance.
“This is your most intimate outing yet,” he told Malik, circling him like a lion sizing up dinner. “You will wear romance on your collar. You will drip elegance from your cuffs.”
Malik sighed. “Can I just drip in peace?”
Pascal snapped. “No.”
Tina stood at the back of the room, arms folded, silent as Malik tried on suits and struggled not to make sarcastic comments.
“This one?” he asked, stepping out in a sleek charcoal suit with an unbuttoned collar. “Or is this too ‘bodyguard dating the boss’?”
Tina didn’t answer. But Pascal clapped dramatically. “It’s perfect. It says, ‘I could buy the restaurant, but I’d rather just kiss you in it.’”
Malik pointed at him. “See? This guy gets it.”
Still, Tina didn’t smile. She turned to leave. “I’ll have a car pick you up Saturday at 6.”
---
Saturday Evening: The “Date”
Malik was waiting at the curb when the car pulled up — a sleek, black Rolls-Royce with a chauffeur dressed better than most Fortune 500 CEOs.
Tina stepped out first.
And for a moment, everything paused.
She wore a black satin dress, high-slit, backless, with a neckline that was both daring and elegant. Her makeup was light but fierce. Her heels clicked against the pavement like punctuation marks to a silent poem.
Malik blinked.
“You look like you just walked out of a movie I can’t afford to watch.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You clean up decently yourself.”
He offered his arm. “Shall we go pretend to be in love?”
She took it. “Try not to enjoy it too much.”
---
Dinner at Le Mireille
It was the kind of place with no prices on the menu, three waiters per table, and wine older than both of them.
Tina and Malik sat in a corner booth with just enough spotlight for the paparazzi planted across the street to get their shots. Tina leaned in. “Laugh. Tell a story. Smile like I told a joke.”
“So...everything’s fake?”
“Not everything,” she said quietly, picking up her wine.
Malik smirked. “Fine. Want a real story?”
She nodded once.
He leaned in. “When I was ten, I wrote a love letter to a girl named Nia. I folded it into a paper plane and tossed it at her during class. But it hit the teacher instead.”
Tina blinked. “What happened?”
“He read it out loud. Dramatically. I used the word ‘glorious’ to describe her smile.”
Tina almost choked on her wine.
“There it is,” Malik said, pointing. “A laugh. I win.”
“You wrote ‘glorious’ at age ten?”
“I was always an old soul. Probably because I was raised by my grandma. That woman thought soap operas were a survival skill.”
Tina leaned back, genuinely amused. “Your grandmother sounds amazing.”
“She was,” Malik said softly. “She’d have liked you. She’d have told you to stop being so stiff, though.”
Tina raised a brow. “I’m not stiff.”
“You are. But it’s kinda your thing. It’s like…sexy rigidity.”
She groaned. “Don’t call it that.”
He grinned. “Too late.”
---
Act Three: The Theater
After dinner, they arrived at the St. James Theatre for a Broadway revival of Much Ado About Nothing. Of course, press had already been alerted — courtesy of Tina’s PR team. Cameras flashed as they stepped onto the red carpet.
Malik leaned close and whispered, “Do I kiss your cheek or is that still ‘contractually forbidden’?”
Tina didn’t answer.
So he leaned in, kissed her cheek softly, and waited for the fallout.
She didn’t pull away. In fact… she smiled.
A real smile.
And the flashbulbs went wild.
---
Later That Night: In the Car
Silence filled the Rolls-Royce as they cruised through Manhattan. The city glowed around them — buildings like stars, roads like rivers of light.
“You did well tonight,” Tina said softly.
Malik looked at her. “So did you.”
She looked out the window. “That smile… it wasn’t for the cameras.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What was it for then?”
She turned her head, met his eyes.
“I don’t know yet.”
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End of Chapter Five.
