He waited.
I resisted the urge to fill the silence just to make it stop. Barely. Finally, I gestured toward the coffee table. “You can put those down.”
In slow motions, his arms flexed and the books glided onto the table. The way he handled to the worn paperbacks was almost tender.
I crossed my arms, then immediately uncrossed them because it looked defensive. “We should at least be clear on what tomorrow looks like.”
His gaze settled on me fully then. Pale, direct, unsettling without being aggressive. “Media in the morning,” he recounted. “Before we head to New York.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“And this”—he glanced once around the apartment—“is happening.”
For a second, neither of us spoke. Then I forced myself into motion, stepping around the coffee table to put more distance between us.
“The public part of this needs to be consistent,” I stammered. “That’s the only way it works.”
Alois leaned one shoulder lightly against the wall near the door. “I gathered.”
“We’ll need to be seen together when it makes sense. Team events. Travel. If media is around, there can’t be any hesitation or contradiction.”
“There won’t be.” His gaze stayed on me, steady enough that I could feel it even when I looked away. “You expected an argument.”
The annoying thing was, he wasn’t wrong.
“I expected pushback,” I relented
“I already did the pushback,” he replied. “In the meeting.”
That was so dry I looked up before I could stop myself. Still nothing resembling a smile. Not really. But there was something there. A hard-edged awareness. As if he knew exactly how absurd this was too and saw no point pretending otherwise.
I dragged in a breath and let it out slow, trying to organize something that refused to be organized. “This doesn’t have to be complicated,” I sighed, more to myself than to him.
He didn’t move. Just watched.
I shook my head once. “Actually, no—that’s a lie. It’s a complete mess. But we’re not going to act like it is.”
One of his brows lifted slightly.
“Three things,” I continued, holding up my fingers before I could overthink it.
His gaze dropped to my hand, then back to my face. Waiting.
“Don’t fight in public,” I began. “I don’t care if you hate me by tomorrow morning—we don’t show it.”
“Agreed.”
There was no hesitation in it. No attitude. Just fact. That threw me off kilter.
I nodded quickly, pushing through. “Second—don’t break the script. I don’t care how stupid it sounds or how much you don’t like something.”
His jaw shifted slightly. Not a refusal. Not agreement either. But he didn’t interrupt.
Good enough.
“And third—” I hesitated, just for a second, because this one felt different. Less professional. More…something else. I forced it out anyway. “Don’t start believing it.”
Silence. Awkward and empty.