Luca's Pov
"I don't like being told what to do."
The words slipped out sharper than I intended, but they hung in the air between Noah and me as if I had carved them into stone.
He stood across the polished glass table in the boardroom, arms folded, his expression somewhere between exhaustion and fury. The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, catching in his dark hair, making him look like the world's most stubborn angel.
"And I don't like being used," Noah shot back, voice steady. "But here we are."
I hated that he was right.
The room around us buzzed faintly with the sound of my assistant typing outside, the hum of the city below, the muted pulse of a company too big to stop for even one man's crisis. Yet in that moment, all I saw was him, this man whose life had been intertwined with mine long before we ever chose it.
I leaned forward, resting my hands on the table. "This arrangement will work if we both commit to it. The press believes we're… involved. We can't afford to look like enemies."
Noah's jaw tightened. "And you think parading around with you is going to magically save my company?"
"Yes," I said simply. "Because visibility means investors. Investors mean funding. And funding means your research doesn't die."
His eyes flickered, a flash of pain there, something raw that reminded me this wasn't just business for him. It was personal. His sister's ghost lived in every decision he made, every risk he took.
I softened my voice. "I know what it's like to lose someone. To carry that weight and try to turn it into something useful. I'm not your enemy, Noah."
For a second, I thought he might actually believe me. Then his mouth curved into something closer to a sneer. "Funny. Your family has felt like the enemy my entire life."
I felt the words like a punch. He didn't know that I had resented my father as much as he had. Maybe more. The empire I was now fighting to save had been built on the man's ruthless decisions, decisions that destroyed families like Noah's. Decisions that made people look at me like I was nothing but a shadow of him.
And maybe I was.
Noah straightened his posture, his eyes never leaving mine. "So how do you want to play this, Luca? Public dates? Fake smiles? Should I let you kiss me for the cameras?"
The idea of kissing him hit me harder than I expected. My throat went dry, my palms itched, and for a second I forgot how to breathe.
"I….." I cleared my throat quickly. "We'll keep it believable, but nothing more than necessary."
He gave me a look that told me he wasn't fooled. "Good. Because I don't want to give anyone the wrong idea."
I almost laughed at the irony of it, because standing here, every wrong idea was the only thing in my head.
***********
The next few days blurred into a storm of strategy. My PR team crafted talking points, scheduled events, arranged photo ops. Every detail was manicured to make the illusion of my relationship with Noah seem real.
And Noah… he endured it.
He showed up to dinners, sat beside me at charity events, and even forced a small smile when the cameras flashed. But behind closed doors, his walls were made of steel. He spoke to me only when necessary, keeping his words clipped, precise, like a man counting the cost of every syllable.
I told myself it didn't matter. This wasn't real. This was survival.
And yet, the more I watched him, the more it mattered.
One night, after a fundraiser at the museum, we slipped into the back of the waiting car. The flash of cameras still danced in my vision, the reporters shouting our names fading into the distance.
Noah loosened his tie with a frustrated tug. "I hate this."
I leaned back, studying him in the dim light. "You handled it well."
"That's not the same thing." His gaze cut to mine. "Do you enjoy it? Being worshipped by strangers who don't even know you?"
I hesitated. "It's not worship. It's control. And control keeps everything from falling apart."
He let out a humorless laugh. "Sounds exhausting."
"It is."
The silence stretched. For the first time, it wasn't hostile. Just heavy.
Then Noah spoke, quieter this time. "When I was a kid, my dad used to say our company was more than science. It was hope. For people like my sister. For families like ours. He believed in it even when no one else did. And then your father pulled the funding, and I watched him break."
His words carried the weight of years, anger sharpened by grief.
I swallowed hard. "I wasn't my father, Noah."
He looked at me then, his eyes fierce. "Then prove it."
Something inside me shifted. Because for once, it wasn't about me saving my company or my name. It was about proving to him, this man who had every reason to hate me, that I could be better.
The first real test came sooner than expected.
We had agreed to appear together at a gala hosted by one of the city's biggest venture capital firms. It was supposed to be simple: walk in together, smile for the cameras, leave with the appearance of being perfectly aligned.
But the moment we entered, I knew something was wrong.
Conversations hushed as eyes turned toward us. Not curious, not intrigued, predatory. A few board members I recognized whispered behind champagne glasses. A journalist scribbled furiously in his notebook. And then I saw him, Ethan Vaughn, one of my most vocal rivals, standing near the bar with a smirk that promised trouble.
"Your friend looks like he wants to eat you alive," Noah muttered under his breath.
"He's not my friend," I replied. "And he's about to make this very complicated."
Sure enough, Ethan made his way over, every step dripping arrogance. "Luca Marquez. And Noah Chen, isn't it? What a surprise. Or should I say… what a performance?"
Noah stiffened beside me. I forced a polite smile. "Ethan. Always a pleasure."
"Oh, the pleasure is mine." His gaze flicked between us, sharp as a blade. "You know, I've been hearing interesting things. About your little partnership. About how genuine it really is."
My stomach tightened. This was dangerous.
"What exactly are you implying?" I asked.
Ethan leaned closer, lowering his voice just enough for only us to hear. "That the city loves a good love story. But they love a scandal even more. And if this…." he gestured between Noah and me "....isn't what it seems, I'll make sure the world knows."
I felt Noah's hand brush against mine, subtle but grounding. For once, he wasn't fighting me.
I met Ethan's smug grin with a cool stare. "Be careful, Ethan. Some stories have sharper teeth than you think."
He chuckled, raising his glass in mock salute. "We'll see."
As he walked away, Noah exhaled slowly. "So this is what I signed up for? Public blackmail and veiled threats?"
"Yes," I admitted. "And it's only the beginning."
He turned to me, eyes flashing. "Then you better tell me something, Luca. Are you really in this for both of
us… or just yourself?"
His words cut deep, and for the first time in years, I didn't have an immediate answer.