Chapter 28 This Is Not Real
Amelia POV
I knew something was wrong the moment I walked into the office.
Dominic was already there.
Sitting behind his desk.
Phone on the table.
Expression unreadable.
That alone was enough to make my stomach feel weird.
Because Dominic always looked serious.
But this was different.
This felt... heavier.
I stepped inside slowly.
"Am I in trouble?"
He looked up at me.
"No."
I nodded.
"...That sounded like I might still be in trouble."
A very small pause.
Then,
"Sit."
Oh.
That was not comforting.
I walked over and sat down across from him.
I tried to act normal.
I failed.
"So... what's happening?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he tapped his phone once and turned it slightly toward me.
Articles.
More articles.
New ones.
Headlines everywhere.
"Is This Noah Blackwood's Mom?"
"Is Dominic Blackwood Secretly Married?"
"Mystery Woman Living In Blackwood Residence?"
My stomach dropped.
"...Okay that one is new."
"They're getting closer," he said.
I looked at him.
"What do you mean."
He leaned back slightly.
"They won't stop at this."
"At what."
"Speculation."
I frowned.
"They'll look for something better."
"Better?"
"More personal."
My chest tightened a little.
"...Me."
"Yes."
The room felt quieter.
"They'll find out you live here," he continued.
"They'll find out you work for me."
"They'll start asking questions about Noah."
That made something in me shift.
"...What kind of questions?"
His voice lowered slightly.
"The kind he doesn't need to answer."
Oh.
I didn't like that.
Not at all.
Images flashed in my head.
Noah holding my hand.
Noah quietly sitting next to me.
Noah saying stay.
I looked down for a second.
Then back up at Dominic.
"So what do we do?"
There was a pause.
Then he said,
"It's easier to control the narrative than fight it."
I blinked.
"...That sounds like something a very serious person would say before suggesting something I'm not going to like."
A very slight shift in his expression.
Almost amused.
Almost.
"We don't deny it."
I stared at him.
"...That's your plan?"
"Yes."
"That is not a plan."
"It is."
"How?"
"We confirm a relationship."
My brain stopped.
"You want me to what."
"Pretend."
I stared at him.
"You want me to pretend to date you."
"Yes."
I blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then leaned back in my chair.
"No."
He didn't react.
"I don't think you understand," I continued. "That sounds stressful."
"It's controlled."
"It's fake."
"Yes."
"It's weird."
"It's necessary."
I shook my head.
"You don't even like me."
A small pause.
Then he said,
"I don't dislike you."
My brain short-circuited for a second.
"That is not the same thing."
"I know."
Silence.
I looked at him.
Really looked at him.
Calm.
Focused.
Serious.
But not cold.
Not right now.
And that made this worse somehow.
"I don't want people thinking I'm something I'm not," I said.
"They already do."
That hit.
Harder than I expected.
I looked down at my hands.
"...I don't like this."
"I know."
"Then why are we still talking about it."
"Because it works."
I sighed.
"How."
He didn't rush his answer.
"If we deny it, they keep digging."
"If we confirm it, they lose interest."
"The story becomes predictable."
"And then it disappears."
I frowned slightly.
"...That actually makes sense."
"It does."
I hated that it did.
"They stop looking into you," he continued.
"They stop asking questions."
"And Noah is left out of it."
That was the part that mattered.
And he knew it.
Of course he knew it.
I looked away for a second.
Thinking.
Then I said quietly,
"I don't want him to get hurt."
"He won't."
"You can't promise that."
"I can reduce the risk."
That was very Dominic.
Honest.
Careful.
Not overpromising.
I exhaled slowly.
"This is a terrible idea."
"It is."
"...And we're still doing it?"
He held my gaze.
"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't necessary."
Silence.
My heart did that annoying soft thing again.
Because he wasn't saying it like a demand.
He was asking.
And that made it harder to say no.
I leaned back in my chair.
"Okay but if we do this..."
He waited.
"...there have to be rules."
"Of course."
I pointed at him.
"No weird romantic stuff."
He raised an eyebrow slightly.
"That's the rule?"
"Yes."
"Noted."
"No holding hands unless absolutely necessary."
"Define necessary."
"I don't know. Cameras. Emergencies. Fake couple emergencies."
Another almost-smile.
I noticed.
Again.
"And no staring," I added quickly.
That one slipped out.
He paused.
"...No staring."
"Yes."
"You're the one who notices it."
"I do not..."
I stopped.
He didn't say anything.
But I knew.
He knew.
I cleared my throat.
"Anyway. Those are the rules."
"Understood."
A small pause.
Then he said,
"We'll inform the media tomorrow."
My stomach dropped.
"Tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"That's very soon."
"They're already watching."
Right.
Of course they were.
I stood up slowly.
"This is insane."
"Yes."
"I cannot believe I agreed to this."
"You did."
I pointed at him again.
"This is your fault."
"Most things are."
I blinked.
"...That sounded like a joke."
"It wasn't."
I narrowed my eyes.
"I think it was."
A very slight shift in his expression again.
And there it was.
That almost-smile.
I turned toward the door.
Then paused.
Then looked back at him.
"This is not real."
"I know."
"Good."
A small pause.
Then he added quietly,
"It just has to look like it is."
My heart did something very inconvenient.
And I immediately left the room.
Because I needed space.
And air.
And possibly a new personality.