Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 58: Who Are You and What Did You Do to Adrien?

By 7:30 sharp, I sent out the internal memo:

To all department heads and assistants—Johnson Proposal review begins at 9:00 a.m. sharp in the South Conference Room. Mr. Walton will be present. Be prepared to present your assigned sections clearly and concisely.

I double-checked everything. The digital presentation. The physical portfolios. The shared folders.

Coffee in hand, heels on, brain wired.

This wasn’t just any meeting.

The Johnson Proposal was a big one. Johnson & Rowe wanted Vantage & Cole to take over the full design and construction of a brand-new shopping complex. We were talking everything from layout and structure to branding and interior design.

Which meant one thing: This had to be perfect.

Around 8:45am I was halfway to Adrien’s office, ready to knock and give our usual pre-meeting nudge, when—

His door opened.

He stepped out looking like he’d walked off the cover of some luxury magazine with a calm expression and moving like a man with a mission.

Without a word, he reached for the file in my hand.

I blinked. "Sir?"

He didn’t even slow down. "Give it."

I hesitated for half a second, then handed it over, still trying to figure out if I’d missed a memo about Casual Politeness Day.

He took the file like it was nothing and gave me the smallest, most confusing smile.

"Let’s go, Miss Miller," he said, already walking.

That’s when I officially checked out of reality.

I blinked.

He didn’t glare or say a sarcastic comment. Just... that. A smooth command and a smile.

What the hell?

My feet felt glued to the floorboards. My brain, usually a whirring engine of deadlines and deliverables, had ground to a complete halt. I stood gaping at the space where Adrien – the Adrien, my perpetually frowning, crazy, boss-of-doom Adrien – had just been standing, radiating calm confidence and giving me a smile. A smile!

He was already moving with that long, effortless stride of his, turning the corner towards the main conference room.

The file, my carefully prepared file clutched protectively just moments ago was now tucked casually under his arm as if it belonged there all along. Which technically, it did, but usually there was a preamble involving glares and pointed questions about my punctuality or the quality of the cover sheet.

A frantic jolt went through me. He was leaving. I was supposed to be following him.

Snapping out of my stupor – or at least, trying to – I awkwardly juggled the tablet and notepad I held and practically ran to catch up my heels clicking a frantic rhythm against the quiet hallway floor. He didn’t look back he just kept moving, a sleek, purposeful figure leading the way.

Trailing slightly behind him, I had a chance to observe this alien version of my boss. His shoulders were relaxed, not hunched with tension. He wasn’t muttering under his breath─ a common Adrien habit, usually involving words like "incompetent" or "utter waste of time". He just... walked.

What is happening? my mind screamed, a frantic hamster wheel spinning uncontrollably.

Is this a test? Is he finally snapping?

Did he get secretly married and is unbelievably happy for precisely five minutes?

Is this some advanced form of psychological torture I haven’t read about?

Was I still asleep?

Once it was 8:55am, we got to the conference rom and people were already gathering.

Some assistants nervously flipping through notes, department heads adjusting ties or straightening blouses.

Adrien entered first, his presence pulling the room stretched with silence. Eyes flicked from him to me—his assistant, the unexpected favorite target of office gossip lately and then quickly back to their own papers.

He didn’t pause. With that same smooth confidence, Adrien walked straight to the head of the table, the file still tucked under his arm. He didn’t slam it down. He simply placed it neatly in front of the chair he always occupied.

I took my usual seat slightly to his left, my own notepad and tablet feeling awkward and heavy in my hands.

This is terrifying.

He was either about to fire me mid-meeting or offer me a promotion I didn’t want and neither possibility made sense ─ well the firing one still made a bit sense

Adrien looked up. "Let’s get started."

The room quieted instantly.

I adjust my seat while keeping my eyes on my notes—mostly so I wouldn’t have to look at him. He’d just carried my file here like it was normal. Like he was normal.

Everyone was present—heads of architecture, design, marketing, finance. The entire table buzzed with tension. This wasn’t just a regular project review. This was the Johnson Proposal. And Adrien Walton was leading it himself.

He stood, flipping open the folder with smooth precision. "The Johnson Group is requesting a full design and development plan for their new luxury shopping complex in Dallas. They want Vantage & Cole to handle everything—from structure to branding to user experience."

He clicked the remote, bringing up a sleek 3D mockup on the screen behind him. "That means design, layout, flow, traffic optimization, retail zoning, and of course—style. Their words: modern, unforgettable, and ’expensive as hell.’"

A few quiet chuckles passed around the table. Not from me ─ I was too busy willing my heart rate to go back to normal.

Adrien continued. "Each division lead here has been assigned a section. I want clear and confident presentations—no rambling and no guesswork. This is a multi-million dollar build with long-term potential for future sites across the country. The client will be watching how we handle this and I want them impressed before we even break ground."

He turned slightly, eyes skimming over everyone before landing on me.

"Miss Miller, your part?"

"Yes, sir," I managed, my voice a little tighter than I would have liked. I picked up my tablet, ignoring the slight tremor in my hands.

I cleared my throat and straightened up. "Logistics are prepped. I’ve coordinated timelines from each department and merged them with Johnson’s expected milestones. I’ll update the shared drive before noon with everyone’s files included."

He gave a single nod. "Good. Keep it sharp."

That might’ve been approval.

Or it might’ve been him just not correcting me.

Either way, I marked it as a win.

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