Luca's Pov
"What if I told you I'm starting to want this to be real?"
The words had slipped out before I could stop them.
Noah froze, his body stiffening against the glow of his office light. Papers lay scattered across his desk, his sister's photograph watching us like a silent judge. For a man who could talk numbers and formulas for hours, he suddenly looked like he had forgotten every word in the English language.
He swallowed hard. "Don't."
The single word sliced through me.
"Don't what?" I asked, forcing my voice steady.
"Don't blur the lines," he said, his tone sharp. "We agreed this was fake. Nothing more."
I wanted to nod, to let it go, to protect both of us from the chaos that was already unraveling around us. But I couldn't. Not anymore.
Because every time I looked at him, I saw more than a convenient solution to my problems. I saw the man who carried his grief like armor, who worked himself into the ground because hope was the only thing he had left, who could stare down an entire ballroom and not flinch.
And I wanted him.
I stepped closer, my shadow stretching across his desk. "What if I can't keep pretending it's fake?"
Noah's jaw tightened, but his voice cracked just slightly when he said, "Then you'll ruin everything."
Maybe I already had.
*************
The days that followed were torture.
We kept up the act in public, holding hands, brushing shoulders, sharing glances that made the press swoon. But when the cameras were gone, silence built walls between us.
He barely looked at me. When he did, it was with the kind of restraint that told me he was fighting himself as much as me.
It was easier for him to see me as the villain. I was Luca Marquez, son of the man who had almost destroyed his family's company. The ruthless billionaire who would do anything to save his empire. The man who didn't know how to want something without breaking it.
But I wanted him anyway.
One evening, we attended a private dinner hosted by a major investor interested in Chen Bioworks. It should have been simple: smile, charm, leave with a handshake and a promise.
But nothing was ever simple with Noah.
He was magnetic at the table, speaking passionately about his research, his vision, and the future he believed in. For once, I didn't have to perform. I just sat back and watched him, pride swelling in my chest at how easily he won people over.
And then, across the table, Ethan Vaughn smirked.
He raised his glass, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "Quite the story you two are selling. A tech mogul and a scientist, saving the world together. It almost sounds… too good to be true."
Noah stiffened beside me, his knuckles whitening around his fork.
I smiled, the kind of smile that looked effortless but carried enough ice to freeze an ocean. "Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction, Ethan."
"Oh, I'm sure it is." Ethan's gaze slid toward Noah. "But tell me, what happens when people realize fairytales aren't built to last?"
The tension at the table was palpable. I reached under the table, resting my hand lightly over Noah's. He flinched, but he didn't pull away.
When the dinner ended, Noah stormed out before I could stop him. I found him outside, pacing under the streetlamp.
"This isn't working," he muttered.
"It is," I insisted. "We're closer to securing funding than ever….."
"This isn't about funding!" His voice cracked, raw and sharp. "This is about you playing games with something I can't afford to lose."
I stepped closer. "And what if I'm not playing?"
He stopped pacing, his eyes locking onto mine. For a heartbeat, I thought he might finally let himself fall.
But then his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his face went pale.
"What is it?" I asked.
He didn't answer. He just shoved the phone into his pocket and said, "I need to go."
And just like that, he was gone.
I didn't sleep that night.
By morning, rumors had already hit the headlines. A leaked report accused Chen Bioworks of falsifying clinical trial data.
It was a lie, I knew it instantly, but the damage was real. Stock prices dipped. Investors panicked. The press feasted.
When I called Noah, he didn't pick up. By noon, I was storming into his office myself.
He looked wrecked, eyes bloodshot, papers strewn everywhere, his team scrambling to control the fallout.
"This is Ethan," I said without preamble. "He's trying to kill your company."
Noah's laugh was hollow. "Congratulations. It's working."
I slammed my hand against his desk. "Then fight back. With me."
He stared at me, breathing hard, the weight of exhaustion and grief pulling at him. "Why do you care so much?"
The answer burned in my throat. Because I care about you. Because somewhere in the middle of this lie, I found the one truth I can't escape.
Instead, I said, "Because if you fall, they'll come for me next."
His face closed off. "Right. Of course. It's always about you."
"Noah…"
"Get out, Luca."
The command in his voice left no room for argument. So I left, even though every step away from him felt like tearing something vital out of me.
**********
The next few days were chaotic. Reporters camped outside both our offices. Investors demanded explanations. Ethan fanned the flames with carefully timed leaks, each one designed to make Noah look weaker, me look complicit.
And through it all, Noah wouldn't answer my calls.
Until one night, he showed up at my penthouse.
He looked furious, desperate, broken.
"You knew," he accused, his voice shaking. "You knew Ethan was behind this, and you didn't tell me until it was too late."
"That's not true," I snapped. "I told you the moment I found out."
He shook his head, tears shining in his eyes. "I don't know if I can trust you, Luca."
The words gutted me. Trust. That was all I wanted from him. Not his smile, not his company, not eve
n his love, just his trust.
And I couldn't have it.
I stepped closer, my voice low. "Then what do you want from me, Noah?"