ADRIEN’S POV
I was leaning back in my chair. The soft light from the desk lamp painted calm shadows over the scattered docunts in front of . For a mont, the day’s chaos felt distant — a quiet pocket of stillness in the storm.
I was buried in quarterly reports when the door to my study creaked open.
Only one person had the audacity to walk into my study without knocking like he paid the mortgage here.
I didn’t look up from the docunt in front of . "If you’re here to raid the liquor cabinet, it’s locked."
"Temporarily," ca his voice, breezy and far too casual. "But thanks for the vote of confidence."
The door shut behind Caron with that familiar casual slam—like he owned the place, or at least was used to barging in without knocking. Loafers clicked against the hardwood floor as he made a beeline for the armchair opposite my desk, collapsing into it like soone who’d just survived a mildly traumatic event. Probably a brunch with his own family, but I wasn’t volunteering to find out.
I finally glanced up.
He was fiddling with his cufflink, which was not a good sign. Caron only fidgeted when he was genuinely uncomfortable or trying to decide how to spin sothing truly outrageous. He looked tense. One leg bouncing. Shirt slightly wrinkled. Guilt already written across his forehead like a headline: ’Man About to Say Sothing Stupid—Film at 11.’
I sighed. "What did you do?"
Caron winced. "Technically? Nothing. Yet."
"That’s never a good start."
Caron ran a hand through his hair, looking weirdly nervous. "I need a favor. Big one."
I raised a brow. "You don’t usually preface requests like they’re asking to borrow my kidney."
He grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, well, this is kinda... personal."
I leaned back, folding my hands on the desk. "Go on."
"My grandpa set up on a date."
"And?"
"And I need you to get out of it."
"Cancel."
"I can’t." He threw an arm over the back of the chair like this was so therapy session and not my study. "It’s one of those ’family alliance’ setups. rgers. Social leverage. The usual ancient-money matchmaking agenda. If I don’t go, I’ll look like I’m disrespecting the House of the Almighty Grandfather."
"So go, smile, nod, and escape through the bathroom window."
"That’s not the problem." Caron leaned forward, voice low. "The girl is probably one of three things: one, a perfectly bred porcelain doll with no personality; two, surgically enhanced into a new species of humanoid; or three, one of those designer tantrum princesses who thinks emotional intelligence is sothing you hire soone to handle for you."
I blinked. "So you want to kill you. That’s why you’re here."
"No."
"So you want to fake a health ergency? Stage a building evacuation?" I deadpanned. "What’s your poison?"
He grinned. "No. Worse. I want you to co with ."
"No."
He held up a finger. "As my boyfriend."
I blinked, montarily speechless.
"A gay thing?" I asked, voice cool but edged with disbelief.
"Exactly, I’ll owe you forever," he added quickly. "Just one night. You sit next to , look territorial, and maybe lace your fingers with mine like you’re ready to start a scene if she bats her lashes."
"No."
"Adrien—" Caron pleaded, leaning further forward, his hands clasped together now like a supplicant before a particularly unimpressed deity. "Co on. Think about it. It’s genius."
"No," I said again, sharper this ti. "Find soone else to play your romantic decoy."
"But I trust you. And she won’t see it coming! We walk in, coordinated outfits, a little arm touch here and there—bam, threat neutralized. You glare at the waiter, maybe call ’darling’—"
"Leave."
Caron groaned. "Adrien, please. This isn’t just for . It’s for the sanctity of future blind dates I never want to go on. You’re helping protect a legacy."
"I run a company, Caron. I don’t do dinner theater."
"You wouldn’t even have to act. You already look like soone who deletes people for sport."
I gave him a flat look.
He pressed on, undeterred. "You glare. You radiate possessiveness. You terrify strangers. That’s exactly the energy I need. No woman raised on powder and pearls is going to flirt with if you’re looming beside like I belong to you."
"You want to play the jealous boyfriend so the girl runs off crying."
He nodded earnestly. "Precisely."
I leaned back in my chair, considering the situation. "You could just tell your grandfather the truth. You’re an adult, after all."
Caron snorted. "And risk being disinherited? No thanks. Besides, Grandpa’s old-school. He’d never understand."
"This is idiotic." I said flatly, shaking my head. Caron was determined though, his eyes glinting with that familiar determination I knew so well. When he got an idea in his head, it was hard to talk him out of it.
"This is survival."
Caron slumped back in the chair, defeated for a split second before rallying. "Okay, okay. Forget the personal gain. Think of it as an act of... charity. You’re helping a friend in need. A friend who will owe you. Big ti."
"You already owe from the ti you ’accidentally’ invested company funds in that artisanal cat food startup."
"That was a calculated risk! They had great branding! And this is different! This is emotional debt! The kind you can cash in for favors that involve less... potential SEC investigations."
He looked genuinely pleading now, his earlier breezy arrogance replaced by a kind of desperate puppy-dog expression I knew all too well. It was infuriating because it worked, eventually.
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"I can’t believe I’m considering this."
"So you’ll do it?" His eyes lit up.
"I didn’t say yes."
"But you didn’t say no." He grinned, smug now. "That’s basically a yes from you."
"Caron—"
"You’re already thinking about which suit you’ll wear, admit it."
I sighed. "If I do this, don’t expect to drop my card to pay for anything. And also, you will be paying for emotional damage."
"Of course. We fake-date, fake-disappoint a dynasty, and you go back to brooding in peace."
I gave him a look. "You enjoy this too much."
"Only because you’re so good at being terrifying. It’s a gift, really."
I glared and he winked.
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