Chapter 577 | Bye, Mrs. F

Chapter 577: 577 | Bye, Mrs. F

Diane absolutely knew.

Diane’s Luster field pulsed slightly, the ambient warmth that made her presence feel like the center of any room she entered, and her smile sharpened in a way that I recognized from nine years of watching her close deals with people who thought they were better at negotiation than they were.

"Childhood stories," Diane repeated. "Well. Lukas was a handful. Moody little thing when I first brought him home. Wouldn’t talk for almost a month."

Felicity’s eyes went soft with concern. "Oh no. That must have been so hard for you."

"It was. He’d lost his parents. The whole world had fallen out from under him." Diane’s voice carried the weight of genuine memory, and even I felt the pull of it. "But I made him a promise. I told him I would fill his life with something good, because that’s what his mother would have wanted. And I have."

"That’s so beautiful." Felicity pressed a hand to her chest. "You’re like a total mommy figure."

Sloane choked.

Diane’s expression didn’t flicker. "Something like that."

"No like for real though." Felicity leaned in conspiratorially. "Lukas talks about you all the time. Well, not all the time, because he’s got that whole mysterious silence thing going, but when he does talk it’s usually about you or Sloane. I can tell you’re super important to him."

"Can you."

"Totally. The way his voice changes when he mentions your name? Dead giveaway." Felicity smiled like she was sharing a secret. "He clearly loves you a lot. In a family way. Obviously."

The obviously landed with the specific weight of a word doing heavy lifting, and I watched Felicity’s eyes flick to Diane’s ring finger, then back up to her face, conducting some kind of assessment that I did not want to examine too closely.

Diane caught the look. Of course she caught the look. She caught everything.

"Miss Hardy." Diane’s drawl stretched the syllables out like taffy. "I appreciate you looking out for my boy. He needs people in his corner. Especially now."

"I am so in his corner. Like, the most in his corner. If his corner were a physical location I would literally live there."

"How dedicated."

"I’m a very dedicated person when I care about something." Felicity’s hand drifted to touch my arm, casual and familiar, the gesture of someone establishing physical claim. "Or someone."

Sloane’s presence in the bond went sharp and hot. I felt her register the touch, register the implication, register the fact that Felicity Hardy was currently running a campaign to establish herself as a potential romantic interest in front of the woman who had spent the last two months doing considerably more than running campaigns.

Diane’s eyes moved to Felicity’s hand on my arm. Then to Felicity’s face. Then to me, with an expression that carried nine years of complicated history and approximately zero patience for the situation unfolding in front of her.

"Lukas, honey." Her voice was sweet as sugar. "Why don’t you walk Miss Hardy to her statement appointment? I’m sure Director Park has a schedule to keep."

Translation: get her out of my sight before I say something a CEO shouldn’t say in a professional setting.

"Right." I extracted my arm from Felicity’s touch with what I hoped was casual grace. "Felicity. Let me show you where the individual statement rooms are."

"Ooh, perfect. More quality time." Felicity beamed at Diane. "It was so nice meeting you properly. We should totally do lunch sometime. I know all the best spots in Verano."

"I’m sure you do."

"I’ll text Lukas to set it up." She waved with her fingers. "Bye Mrs. F!"

I watched Diane’s eye twitch at Mrs. F and felt my survival odds decrease by approximately fifteen percent. Then I had Felicity by the elbow and was steering her toward the conference room door with the urgency of a man evacuating a building before detonation.

Sloane caught my eye as we passed. Through the bond she sent something that was part amusement, part warning, and part you are going to explain this later in exhaustive detail. I sent back something that approximated I have no idea what’s happening and I’m as confused as you are, which was not entirely true but was close enough.

The door closed behind us. The hallway stretched out bright and empty, and Felicity turned to me with her radiant smile intact and her blue eyes sharp with something that had nothing to do with airheadedness.

"Okay so I’m totally making progress right?"

"Progress."

"With your guardian. Diane." Felicity nodded like this was obvious. "She’s super protective of you, which means getting in with her is key to the whole thing. If she approves then everything else is smooth sailing."

"The whole thing."

"Lukas." Felicity stopped walking and turned to face me, and for a second the mask slipped and I saw something genuine underneath. "I like you. Like, actually like you. Not just as a bestie. You’re different from everyone else at Halloran. You notice things. You pay attention. And the whole plaza situation where you literally died protecting Sloane?" She shook her head. "That’s the kind of thing I think about. A lot."

Somewhere in the distance I heard the universe laughing at me.

"Felicity."

"I know I come on strong. It’s kind of my thing. But I figured if I established myself early then when you eventually figure out you have options besides the obvious one, I’d already be positioned."

She smiled, and it was warmer than the performance version, more real. "I’m playing the long game. Cute boys who are good with kids and also genuinely heroic don’t come along every day."

I stared at her. She stared back, completely unaware that the woman she’d just been charming in the conference room had spent the previous night teaching her daughter techniques in a bedroom where the sheets were still warm from round three.

"You should get to your statement," I said, because it was the only safe response.

"Totally. But think about what I said?" She squeezed my hand, quick and warm. "I’m patient. And I’m worth the wait."

She walked off down the hallway, blonde hair swaying, skirt catching the light, completely oblivious to the catastrophic complexity of the situation she’d just wandered into.