Chapter 10 The Girl Behind the Smile #2
“And I should have said something. I should have told him that I wrote the caption. I shifted the conversation. I did exactly what Talia asked me to do. But instead, I smiled like a decorative idiot and said absolutely, because apparently I have the spine of a wet napkin when my father uses that tone.”
Nico said nothing.
Good.
She was not finished.
“I hate that,” she said, voice softer now. “I hate that he can still make me feel like a kid who touched something expensive.”
Nico’s face changed.
Not pity.
Again, thank God.
Understanding, maybe.
Or anger on her behalf, which was worse because it made her want to lean toward him.
“He sees you wrong,” Nico said.
Lena looked up.
Her throat tightened. “You barely know me.”
“I know what competence looks like.”
The words landed with unreasonable force.
She laughed, but it broke halfway. “Careful. That almost sounded like a compliment.”
“It was.”
“Oh.”
That was somehow worse.
She looked away because his eyes were too steady and she did not know what to do with steady. She knew praise from donors. She knew polite thanks from athletes. She knew her father’s proud smile when she did something helpful but not threatening.
This was different.
Nico did not sound surprised that she was good.
He sounded annoyed that anyone had missed it.
Lena swallowed. “I applied for something.”
His gaze sharpened. “What?”
“A sports PR internship. A real one. With Meridian Sports Group. They represent professional tennis players, among other athletes. It’s competitive. Paid. Full-time after graduation if it goes well.”
Nico was quiet for a moment.
“That’s good,” he said.
A laugh scraped out of her. “That’s your response?”
“What should it be?”
“I don’t know. Most people say, wow, Lena, that’s amazing, or does your dad know?”
“Does your dad know?”
“No.”
“Then wow, Lena, that’s amazing.”
She looked at him.
He said it dryly.
Awkwardly.
Like the words were borrowed and did not fit his mouth.
But he said them.
And something inside her softened so fast she nearly hated him for it.
“My father thinks I’ll stay here,” she said. “Or close. He doesn’t say it like that, but he does. The program. Westbridge. His world.” She touched the edge of her laptop. “I think he believes if I’m near the courts, I’m safe.”
Nico’s voice lowered. “Are you?”
Lena thought of the conference room. Her father’s calm no. The way everyone looked away from her.
“No,” she said.
The honesty frightened her.
Nico stepped farther into the room.
Not too close.
Close enough.
“Then tell him.”
Lena laughed once, bitter and small. “That easy?”
“No.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“Sometimes.”
The word hung there.
Declan’s name sat behind it, unsaid and breathing.
Lena looked at him.
He knew.
His face closed before she spoke.
“Nico.”
“No.”
“I didn’t ask anything.”
“You were about to.”
“Because you keep giving me reasons to.”
His jaw tightened. “Leave it alone.”
She shook her head slowly. “You just told me to tell my father the truth about something that could change my future.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because your truth won’t hurt anyone.”
The room went very still.
There it was.
Another piece.
Another clue.
Lena’s pulse beat hard in her throat.
“Nico,” she said softly. “Whose truth are you protecting?”
He looked away.
The silence answered more than he wanted it to.
She stepped closer, then stopped when his shoulders stiffened.
“I’m not trying to use it,” she said. “I’m not trying to package it. I just—”
“You just want to help.”
His voice was flat.
She flinched.
“Yes.”
“That’s what everyone says before they decide what parts of you are useful.”
The words were too sharp to be casual.
Too practiced to be new.
Lena stared at him, and for the first time, she wondered how many rooms Nico had been in where people discussed his future with careful voices and hungry hands.
Like the conference room this morning.
Like the media room three days ago.
Like every place where talent made him valuable but not safe.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He looked back at her.
Suspicion first.
Then confusion.
“For what?”
“For making you feel like that.” She swallowed. “For the campaign. For all of it.”
His face did something complicated.
“You didn’t start the clip.”
“No. But I did start thinking about how to fix you before I asked what hurt.”
Nico went still.
Lena wished she could pull the words back.
No.
She did not.
That was the problem with honesty.
Once it stood in the room, it made everything else look cheap.
Nico’s voice was quieter when he spoke. “You can’t fix me.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I’m learning.”
Their eyes held.
The air changed again.
It always did with him.
One minute they were arguing, the next it felt like standing at the edge of something neither of them had named, something deep enough to drown in if they leaned too far forward.
Nico looked away first.
“Tell your dad,” he said.
Lena breathed out. “Tell the truth about Declan.”
His mouth tightened.
“That’s not the same.”
“Maybe not,” she said. “But it’s the same shape.”
He looked back at her then.
The words had hit.
She could see it.
For a second, she thought he would give her something. One sentence. One name. One piece of the thing he carried like punishment.
Instead, he reached for the door.
“Nico.”
He stopped, but did not turn.
“I’m not your enemy,” she said.
His shoulders rose and fell once.
“I know.”
The answer was so quiet it almost hurt more than silence.
Then he opened the door.
Before he stepped out, he looked back.
His gaze moved over her face.
Not the polished version.
Not the smile.
Her.
“You should tell him before he finds out from someone else,” he said.
Lena’s chest tightened.
“And you?” she asked.
His hand flexed on the doorframe.
“What about me?”
“You should tell the truth before someone else decides how to use it.”
For a moment, Nico did not move.
Then his eyes dropped, and the wall came back.
“Some truths are worse in the light.”
He left before she could answer.
Lena stood alone in the media room, her laptop closed on the table, her cold coffee forgotten somewhere in Conference Room B, and her phone buzzing inside her bag.
She pulled it out slowly.
A notification from the anonymous account.
No profile photo.
No name.
Just another message.
Ask him about his mother. Then ask what Declan called her.