"Then let handle it," he said suddenly.
My head shot up. "What?"
"I’ll cover the manager’s fee," he said matter-of-factly. Before I could protest, he added, "You can think of it as a loan. Pay back later, when you’re ready. There’s no rush."
A loan?! Why does my life never seem to escape from loans? It feels like no matter where I turn, debt is always waiting for .
Still ... the solution he offered wasn’t so bad. As long as I can pay off this one-million debt—or maybe even erase it completely if I win the case in court—I should be able to return the money to him sooner than later.
I just have to keep moving forward. Hopefully, I’ll get plenty of job offers this year ... and hopefully, no one will try to stand in my way again.
"Then, let’s do it!" I held out my hand to him, signaling for a handshake. "Should I draft the contract so you can sign it later, Mr. Brixton?"
Lando took my hand and replied, "I’ll take care of the contract,"
Of course he would. There was no way soone like him would ever let an amateur like handle sothing as important as a loan contract.
But, I didn’t dwell on it too much, because I realized Lando held my hand a little longer than necessary, and for so reason, I felt his thumb brush lightly against my skin.
The movent was subtle, almost unnoticeable, yet I could feel that he had done it on purpose.
Was I just imagining things? Maybe it was an accident. Maybe he hadn’t ant anything by it.
Before I could think any further, he released my hand. The warmth of his touch faded too quickly, leaving a strange emptiness behind.
"Alright," he said calmly, as if nothing had happened. "I still have sothing else to do. You should finish your lunch."
When he was about to move his wheelchair, I asked casually, "Do you also work in your family’s company, Mr. Brixton?"
It was really just small talk, since I already knew he wasn’t just so ordinary employee, but he was the president of an enormous entertainnt company.
"You could say that," he answered, shifting his eyes away from . The way he avoided my gaze made it so obvious he was hiding sothing.
Wasn’t he kind of cute like this?
He always grew nervous or avoided my gaze whenever he was trying to cover up his true identity.
"It must not be easy, working with your own family," I continued softly. "I an ... people like us are often looked down on by them."
In my case, it wasn’t family but society. I was often looked down on simply because I grew up in an orphanage instead of a powerful household.
"I’m fine, Ms. Orszebet." He paused for a mont, as if carefully searching for the right words. "But thank you for worrying about ."
I looked at him intently and said, "Can you not call that?"
He frowned. "Is that form of address not polite enough?"
"No, that’s the problem!" I blurted out, then quickly lowered my gaze. "It’s too polite. It makes feel like you’re a stranger." My voice softened to almost a whisper. "I know we only got married because of an arrangent ... but at least we can still be friends, and friends don’t talk to each other so formally."
For a mont, Lando just stared at , his brows drawn together as if he was trying to read sothing hidden between my words.
"Then ... what should I call you?" His voice was calm, but there was a flicker of sothing softer in his eyes, almost cautious.
I hesitated, my fingers curling in my lap. "Just call Helcia. No ’Ms.,’ no distance. Just ... ."
Helcia wasn’t truly my na, but since I was now living in her body, it only made sense to start getting used to it.
And maybe, Lando could be the one kind enough to help get used to that na.
"Alright ... Helcia," he said slowly, almost hesitant. "But then ... you should call by my na too."
I froze, my fingers tightening in my lap. "Ah, but ... but it doesn’t feel right to call your na directly."
I knew how silly that sounded. How could I expect him to drop all the formalities with when I was still hiding behind ’Mr. Brixton this’ and ’Mr. Brixton that’?
But still, he was older than , and his influence in the entertainnt industry was overwhelming. Saying his na out loud felt strangely heavy, like crossing a line I wasn’t supposed to.
"How about ... I call you sothing else instead?" I said, a smile tugging at my lips as a sudden idea popped into my head.
He raised a brow, curious. "And what would that be?"
"I’ll call you ’Husband!’" I declared proudly, grinning ear to ear. "Do you like that, husband?"
The word seed to hit him harder than I expected. Lando went completely still. His hands, resting on the wheel, froze in place. His shoulders stiffened, and for a mont he didn’t even blink, like I had just stolen the air right out of his lungs.
After a while, he suddenly spoke. "Can ... can you say that again?"
"Husband?" I repeated casually, tilting my head. Then I grinned and started chanting, "Husband. Husband. Husband. Husband. Husb—"
"Alright, stop it." Lando quickly lifted a hand to cover half his face and turned away from , his ears burning red. "Just stop."
[Lando’s favorability has increased to 18%]
Holy crap! That had to be the highest point I’d ever seen pop up!
Wait ... did he really just get flustered? Just because I called him husband?
Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This was too much, he was way too cute!
My husband was so cute I could literally die!
... My husband?
The second that thought slipped through my head, my whole face went hot. I buried it in my hands, trying to hide the ridiculous smile spreading across my lips.
I tried to calm myself down, but the harder I fought it, the worse it got. My cheeks burned, and I could practically feel steam coming out of my ears.
What the hell was wrong with ?!
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