“I don’t run.”
“I know.” Lo’s smile softened. “That’s why we’re proud of you.”
Lucy leaned back in her chair, studying me like I was a case study she hadn’t decided how to label yet. “You’re kind of terrifying, actually.”
I snorted. “Good.”
“No, seriously,” she giggled. “You walked into that organization like you already belonged there. I would’ve panicked.”
“I did panic,” I muttered.
Lo hummed. “Briefly.”
“And then I fixed it,” I added, because that was the part that mattered.
Silence settled.
Waiting.
I should’ve let it sit there. Should’ve kept everything exactly where it belonged—neat, contained, professional.
Instead— I exhaled slowly and let my head fall back against the chair. “It’s worse than I thought it would be.”
Lucy leaned forward slightly. Hooked. “How bad?” she asked.
I let out a dour laugh. “I knew he’d be difficult. That wasn’t a surprise. What I didn’t account for is how completely uninterested he is in helping himself.”
Lo’s brow lifted slightly. “That feels intentional.”
“It is intentional,” I agreed quickly. “He doesn’t play the game. He doesn’t care about optics. He doesn’t soften anything. He just—exists exactly the way he wants to and lets everyone else deal with it.”
Lucy’s lips curved. “That sounds… kind of refreshing.”
“It’s a nightmare,” I corrected. “For my job.”
Lo’s smile flickered.
“Because?” she prompted.
“Because I have to build a narrative around someone who refuses to participate in it,” I said, my voice picking up now. “Do you know how hard that is? He doesn’t flirt on cue, he doesn’t follow direction, and half the time I can’t tell if he’s cooperating or just tolerating me long enough to get through the day.”
Lucy tilted her head. “And the fake dating part?”
I huffed out a breath. “That’s the easiest part.”
That got both of them.
Lo’s eyes sharpened.
Lucy blinked. “Wait—what?”
“It’s controlled,” I explained. “Structured. Predictable. I know what that’s supposed to look like. I can manage perception. I can manage timing. I can manage public interaction.”
“And him?” Lo asked quietly.
“He plays the part perfectly. Almost too perfectly.” The words slipped out before I could dress them up. And once they were out—I didn’t pull them back. My cheeks flushed. My hands were instantly clammy.
“Oh. My. Goodness.” Lucy was almost bouncing out of her seat next to me. “You’re falling for Alois Müller.”