Chapter 18 #2
It was simple, but once I was curled in bed, head on my pillow, listening to Alois softly snore next to me, I started to feel a gentle admiration. One that should have felt dangerous. but it was warm. Cozy. And everything I should have been avoiding.
By the time I stepped into the spa the next afternoon, the world had already shifted again.
One environment to the next. One version of myself to another. Like I lived in compartments—cleanly divided, carefully managed, never overlapping.
Steam curled lazily along the ceiling, soft and weightless, carrying the faint scent of citrus and something floral that settled into the back of my throat. Low conversation drifted through the space in quiet waves—women speaking just loud enough to be heard without ever disrupting the atmosphere.
“Bebê.” Lo’s voice cut through everything else, warm and bright and impossibly familiar. Her southern drawl comforting in any language to me.
I turned just in time for her arms to wrap around my middle, silk and perfume and warmth pulling me in perfectly.
“You look exhausted,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to study my face. “And don’t lie to me. I practically raised you.”
“I’m fine,” I lie automatically.
Her brow lifted. “Of course you are,” she hummed, brushing a piece of hair back from my face like I was still ten and about to head to a school dance. “You’ve always been fine.”
Lucy appeared beside her a second later, softer in presence but no less observant, her smile easy as she leaned in for a quick hug.
“Hi,” she huffed lightly. “You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”
I blew a small laugh. “That’s not inaccurate.”
Lo’s eyes sharpened just slightly, catching something under the surface. “Come on,” she sang, looping her arm through mine and guiding me further into the space. “Everyone deserves a little pampering.”
The chairs were soft. The lighting low. The quiet hum of dryers and low music settled into something steady beneath everything else, grounding in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.
I let them work. Hands in my hair. Warm water against my scalp. The gentle pull of fingers through strands, smoothing, shaping, perfecting.
“Ezra and I are really proud of you,” Lo dropped casually, like she was commenting on the weather.
I opened one eye, glancing at her through the mirror. “For what?”
She met my gaze easily, completely unbothered by the vulnerability threaded through the words. “For the way you’re handling yourself. That job wasn’t what you expected, and you didn’t run.”
“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.”
I snapped my head right out of the grasp of my technician. “This will never be real. I am not falling at all. I loathe everything about Alois Reinhardt Müller.”
Lo and Lucy both burst into a thundering laugh as my pulse kicked up a notch.
“I’m not kidding,” I demanded.
Lo wiped the corner of her eye, before drawling, “Keep telling yourself that, bebê. Maybe that will make it true.”
“He’s infuriating. He’s too controlled,” I argued. “And stubborn. And completely unwilling to make anything easier on me.”
Lo’s mouth curved. “And you don’t like him.”
I let out a short laugh. “No.”
“Not even a little?” Lucy teased.
“No,” I repeated. Firmer this time. Cleaner.
Easier.
“This is a job,” I added, leaning into it now. “That’s it. A strategic arrangement. I’m using the situation to build experience, prove I can handle high-pressure clients, and then I move on.”
Lucy nodded slowly. Accepting.
Lo didn’t. She just watched me. Like she was waiting for the part I wasn’t saying.
I didn’t give it to her.
Because if I did—I wasn’t entirely sure what would come out.
The estate rose out of the dark like something out of another life.
Stone and glass and warm light spilling from tall windows, the structure sprawling across the hill with quiet, unapologetic wealth. The kind that didn’t need to prove anything because it had existed long before anyone currently inside it mattered.
Cedar melting into warm leather greeted me as I stepped out of the car. Followed by something clean and polished that wrapped around everything else.
Warm, low lighting cast everything in gold, shadows soft and deliberate, pulling attention where it wanted it and letting the rest fade into atmosphere.
I paused. Let myself take it in for a drawn moment. Because—
This was a stage. Finally one I knew how to perform on. Knowledge crafted from a childhood filled with lavish parties and opulent dinners. I could move in a gown flawlessly. Glide on heels with effortless grace that made men and women glance twice.
My pulse fluttered low in my chest. Excitement crashing into nervous anticipation.
Lo, Lucy and I made our way through the main entrance to the grand staircase to make our entrance. As I stood at the top of the stair, everything shifted again.
Heads turned. Attention moved through the room in subtle waves, eyes catching, conversations pausing just slightly before resuming.
And then—him. Across the room.
Everything else fell away.
Noise dimmed. Movement blurred.
Because Alois Müller—controlled, unreadable, untouchable Alois Müller—looked stunned.
His shoulders had gone still, his posture locked in place like his body hadn’t caught up with whatever had just hit him.
Color crept up his neck.
And his eyes—God. His eyes were locked on me like he’d forgotten how to look at anything else.
He moved first. Crossing the space and climbing the stairs before my brain could fully process what was happening. The room seemed to part around him without realizing it.
And then he was there.
His hand found the small of my back like it belonged there.
My skin reacted instantly. A shiver I couldn’t stop.
He leaned in. Close enough that I felt the brush of his breath before anything else. His lips grazed my cheek. Soft. And then—barely above a whisper—he breathed, “Tu es d'une beauté époustouflante,” into the nape of my neck before kissing the bare skin just below his lips.