Lucy responds ten minutes later with one word.
Lucy:Better.
Better.
Not thank you.
Better, like she’s shaping a contract the way she shapes event flow, making sure no one gets trampled when the doors open.
I sit there, staring at the word, and I realize I’m smiling.
It’s faint.
But it’s there.
Like something in me is… enjoying this.
Enjoying the fact, she isn’t afraid of me.
Enjoying the fact she refuses to be flattened.
That is not normal.
I shut down the thought and go back to work. Because I will not treat this as something that it is not. I am smiling because we are finally in agreement after a week of Lucy arguing this point.
That evening, the Northwell founders are in my office.
Not because I invited them. No, they tend to materialize when they smell blood in the water.
Theo drops into the chair like he owns it, tie loosened, grin sharp. Elliot stands near the window with his hands in his pockets, relaxed like this is entertainment. Caleb leans against the bookshelf, expression unreadable. Rowan stays near the door, quiet as a shadow, as if he’s there to make sure no one forgets how quickly a room can become a t.
I don’t look up from my screen.
“She’s coming tomorrow at two,” I say.
Theo whistles. “Two p.m. to seal the deal. Romantic.”
“It’s an arrangement,” I reply flatly.
Elliot’s mouth twitches. “Starting an arrangement with an officiant waiting in the next room is… bold.”
“I need it done,” I say.
Caleb’s brow lifts. “You’re not even taking her to the courthouse.”
“The courthouse is public,” I answer, like that should be obvious.
Theo leans forward. “So instead, you’re getting married in your office like you’re signing a lease.”
My gaze snaps to him, cold. “Stop talking.”
Theo holds up his hands. “I’m just saying, if I were to marry our sweet Lucy...”
“It’s not a marriage,” I say, the words sharper than I intend. “It’s a contract... an agreement.”
Silence.
Not because they’re intimidated.
