“Define something.”
“Dane.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you.”
“Which is answer enough.” Lucas sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not going to push. Whatever is or isn’t happening between you and Ina is your business. But as your friend—and I am your friend, despite the fact that you pay my salary—I’m going to say this once: if you have feelings for her, figure out what you’re going to do about it. Because this campaign ends in less than two weeks, and then what? You two just go back to pretending nothing happened?”
“That was always the plan.”
“Plans change. People change. And apparently, you change.”
“I haven’t changed.”
He snorted. “Boy, you’ve got stardust in your eyes.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I realized too late my Irish accent came out.
Lucas grinned. “Oh yeah, she’s gotten under your skin. That little brogue never comes out unless you’re flustered. That girl has you all twisted around.”
“Lucas, I appreciate your flair for the dramatic, but I’m too tired. I’m not flustered, I’m exhausted. Even I can admit I’ve been working a lot of hours.”
Lucas leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms with that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. “You know what the scariest part is?”
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
“You almost seem happy. Like, genuinely happy. It’s terrifying.”
I stared at him. “I’m not unhappy.”
“Dane, I’ve known you for a while now. You’re never happy. You’re satisfied. You’re accomplished. You’re successful. But happy? That’s new. And it’s freaking me out a little.”
“You’re reading too much into this.”
“Am I? Because last week you actually laughed at one of my dad jokes. You never laugh at my jokes. And I think I even caught a smile when I flashed my wings at you.”
I rolled my eyes. “I was being polite.”
“You don’t do polite. You do brutally honest.” He looked around the room, even though we were totally alone in his office with the door closed. “Look, all I’m saying is that whatever is happening with you right now—whether it’s Ina or the campaign or some weird midlife crisis—it looks good on you. Don’t screw it up.”
I rubbed my temples, feeling the tension headache that had been building all day finally settle in behind my eyes. “The gala tonight. Do I actually have to go?”
“Yes. You’re the CEO. It’s our biggest fundraiser of the year. You have to wear the penguin suit and schmooze with donors and pretend you enjoy small talk.”
I groaned. “I hate small talk.”
“I know. It’s painful to watch.” Lucas grinned. “But you’ll look devastatingly handsome for the cameras, so at least there’s that.”
“The show must go on,” I said with a shake of my head.
“No rest for the weary,” he said. “But look on the bright side. You two are almost done strutting your stuff on various red carpets and at charity events. Enjoy it while it lasts.”
“I told you I’m not taking her.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Even though it would be perfect timing? Even though the press would eat it up? Even though you want to spend time with Ina?”
“Lucas. No.”
He sighed dramatically. “Fine. Be stubborn. But when the stock price jumps another five points after Valentine’s Day and we’re all swimming in money, remember that I wanted to take this even further.”
