Public university.

Scholarship.

Lots of Excel and little social life.

I never aspired to more than stability.

Until that night.

—

The consultancy’s annual party was held in a rented loft near Abando. The electronic music was too loud, there was an open bar, and the executives were relaxed, pretending to be human.

I was standing by the catering table, holding a glass that I didn’t intend to finish, when I saw Elise walk in.

Black dress.

Without a jacket.

Loose hair.

And obvious tension in the jaw.

Something wasn’t right.

I watched her as she greeted the partners.

Then I saw it.

An older, elegant man with silver hair and a wide smile.

He grabbed her waist too confidently.

She did not move away.

But she didn’t seem comfortable either.

Minutes later, Elise walked straight towards me.

Without hesitation.

“I need your help right now,” she whispered.

—What’s happening?

Her eyes were darker than usual.

—That man is Marc Vidal. He’s a senior partner. And a future board member.

-Good…

—My family wants me to marry him.

I remained silent.

-Sorry?

—It’s a convenient alliance. Two powerful surnames. Political capital. All very elegant.

The music vibrated in the ground beneath our feet.

—And what does that have to do with me?

That’s when he said:

—Pretend to be my boyfriend… and I’ll give you the most precious thing I have.

My heart leapt absurdly.

—What is the most precious thing you own?

She didn’t smile.

—My trust.

That baffled me more than any material promise.

—I need him to believe I’m with someone. That I’m unavailable.

I looked towards this Marc guy.

He was watching us.

With a calculating smile.

—And why me?

Elise held my gaze.

For the first time without coldness.

—Because you’re the only man in this company who hasn’t tried to flirt with me.

I didn’t know whether to feel proud or clumsy.

—Is this just pretending tonight?

He hesitated for a second.

—It depends on how convincing you are.

Before I could answer, he took my hand.

Firm.

Determined.

The entire room noticed.

Some eyebrows were raised.

Some whispers began.

Marc Vidal placed his glass on the bar.

He approached.

—Elise, I didn’t know you were with someone.

His voice was soft, but territorial.

Elise intertwined her fingers with mine.

—Marc, this is Julián. My partner.

I felt the heat rise up my neck.

Marc evaluated me as if I were a financial report.

“Delighted,” he said, though he wasn’t.

“Likewise,” I replied in the most confident voice I could muster.

Marc smiled.

—Interesting. I didn’t know you had time for romances with… assistants.

The blow was elegant.

But Elise didn’t blink.

—I always find time for what matters.

There was a heavy silence.

Marc nodded slowly.

-Interesting.

He retired.

But his gaze never stopped analyzing me.

When he walked away, I let out a breath.

—That was intense.

Elise didn’t let go of my hand.

-Thank you.

I looked at her.

Closer than ever.

—It didn’t seem like just family pressure.

She hesitated.

—Marc doesn’t just want to get married. He wants to control the firm. My last name is the key.

-And you?

—I want to run the company. Not be a decorative pawn.

His voice was not cold now.

She was vulnerable.

That disarmed me.

—So this isn’t just a scene for a party.

-No.

He leaned slightly towards me.

—If they think I’m committed, they’ll lose interest in forcing the alliance.

The logic was clear.

But there is also risk.

—What if they investigate?

—Then we’ll need a solid story.

I stared at her.

—You’re asking me to lie to the board of directors.

—I’m asking you to help me preserve my freedom.

That changed everything.

It wasn’t ambition.

It was defense.

I took a deep breath.

-Alright.

Her fingers tensed slightly.

—Is what okay?

—I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend.

For the first time in three years, Elise Caron smiled.

Not the corporate smile.

A real one.

Small.

Imperfect.

—Thank you, Julian.

—

What began as a performance became more complex than expected.

We had to attend dinners together.

To events.

To an awkward family gathering in Getxo where his mother analyzed me as if I were a high-risk investment.

We invented how we met.

Supposedly, as part of an international expansion project.

Allegedly, sharing long hours of strategy.

The lie grew.

But something unexpected also grew.

Real conversations.

Laughter in the car.

Confessions about our insecurities.

I discovered that Elise hated the pressure to be “perfect”.

She feared becoming a female version of her father: brilliant, yes, but emotionally isolated.

She discovered that I wasn’t invisible.

I was observing everything.

I had strategic opinions that I never dared to share.

One night, weeks later, as we were walking along the river promenade, I asked him:

—What is truly the most precious thing you have?

She stopped.

He looked at me.

—My independence.

And then he added:

—And the possibility of choosing.

We didn’t talk.

But our hands brushed against each other.

And it wasn’t acting.

—

Three months later, the board announced that Elise would be promoted to deputy chief executive officer.

The alliance with Marc dissolved.

He retired from the council shortly afterwards.

The threat disappeared.

The charade was no longer necessary.

One afternoon, in her office overlooking the Guggenheim, Elise closed the door.

“We can stop pretending,” he said.

My chest tightened.

—Is that what you want?

He held my gaze.

-Don’t know.

The silence was different.

Loaded.

Honest.

—Me neither —I admitted.

He approached.

No longer as boss.

Not as a strategist.

As a woman.

“The most precious thing I have,” he whispered, “is not my position.”

He took my hand.

—It’s the ability to trust someone.

My breathing became irregular.

—And do you trust me?

-Yeah.

There was no music.

No applause.

No contracts.

Just a slow kiss.

Real.

The lie ended that night.

But the story had only just begun.

Because I stopped being the invisible assistant.

And she ceased to be the unattainable woman.

And the most valuable thing he gave me wasn’t a promotion.

It was a place by his side.

Not as a piece of a game.

But as a choice.