Four times a year, Margot Rossi has to certify in writing that what she feels is real.
Her license depends on the answer.
Margot fixes people. Senators, athletes, a city's worth of men who have done something they cannot take back. She is the best crisis lawyer in Chicago, and in eleven years she has never once been the story.
Then the owner of Chicago's football team hands her his nephew.
Cade Sterling has eighty million dollars in guaranteed money, a stranger's shattered phone on every screen in America, and nine sponsors heading for the door. What he needs is not an apology. He needs this city to believe he has changed.
Margot's solution is a woman nobody would ever doubt.
Herself.
Six weeks. One contract. A schedule for every photograph, every hand at a waist, every brief and carefully timed kiss. She has run this play before and it has never failed.
What she does not read closely enough is page ninety.
Buried at the back is a clause naming her firm, and her personally, as guarantor that the relationship is genuine. Not stable. Genuine. Every quarter she has to sign her name underneath that word, and the only person on earth who can ever contradict her is her.
For five months it is the cleanest work of her career.
Then a car dies on a black road outside Lake Forest with the rain coming down and no signal for miles, and Margot Rossi does the first thing in her adult life she will not be able to explain to anybody.
She has spent eleven years knowing exactly why people say the things they say.
She has no idea how to prove she means this.
Off-Script Devotion is a standalone slow-burn romance: a fake relationship with real paperwork, a man who has been waiting three years for her to look at him, and a woman who has to put it in writing. Closed door, no explicit content, and a happy ending she has to earn.