It's Just an Act
LILIANA’S POV
He looked at me like I had just asked him to strip naked in the middle of his office. Brows furrowed, jaw tightening, that perfectly unreadable expression hovering between shock and irritation.
“Be your what?” Ronny asked, each word clipped like he had to taste them before spitting them out.
“My boyfriend,” I repeated, with the kind of calmness I didn’t actually feel. My heart was thrashing inside me, but on the outside I kept my face smooth, unbothered, like this was just another day, just another business deal.
His gaze sharpened, cutting into me like a scalpel. “And what does me being your boyfriend have to do with your mother’s case?”
I smiled slowly, deliberately, and walked farther into the room. My heels clicked against the polished floor until I reached the chair in front of his desk. I sank into it with grace, crossing my legs, then leaned forward until my hands rested flat against the edge of his desk.
All business.
All charm.
“Everything,” I said.
His brow arched, but he stayed quiet, waiting me out. That was the thing about Ronny—he never rushed, never gave anything away first. It was like negotiating with a stone wall that happened to have tattoos and the kind of voice that could melt butter.
I tilted my head, meeting his eyes without flinching. “Think about it. Being my boyfriend gives you access to everything you need without raising suspicion. My family home. Family dinners. Gatherings. Parties. All the places my mother used to go, all the people she used to interact with. If you show up as my… professional bodyguard, people will wonder why. They’ll whisper. They’ll hold back. But if you show up as my boyfriend?” I paused for emphasis. “No one will question a thing. You’ll be exactly where you need to be, hearing exactly what you need to hear.”
For the first time since I walked in, his eyes flickered—just the tiniest shift, but I caught it. I had his attention.
I leaned in a little closer, lowering my voice like I was letting him in on the best-kept secret in the world. “You want to know if my mother’s death was really just a car accident or something else, right? You want to know who’s pulling strings, who’s hiding truths. Well, this is how you get it. Not through cold files and staged interviews. Through real access. Through me.”
Silence.
Heavy, weighted silence that seemed to stretch across the room and curl around my throat.
Ronny leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his broad chest. His tattoos shifted with the movement, lines of black ink pulling and twisting like snakes beneath his skin. He was staring at me, not blinking, not moving, just… staring.
And I hated it.
Or maybe I loved it.
Because while he was busy analyzing my words, I was busy analyzing him. The way his jaw flexed ever so slightly. The way his fingers tapped once against his arm, then stilled. The way his eyes—dark, bottomless—looked at me like he was trying to peel me open, layer by layer, until he found the truth hiding underneath.
I shifted under his gaze, suddenly hyperaware of the way my blouse dipped just low enough to tease, the way my perfume curled between us like smoke. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if he was even thinking about the case at all—or if maybe, just maybe, he was thinking about me.
But then he finally spoke.
“So let me get this straight,” he said slowly. “We’re doing this because of your mother’s case.”
“Yes.”
He tilted his head, voice dropping lower. “Just an act. Strictly professional.”
“Yes,” I said again, matching his tone with a nod. My lips curved into the faintest smile. “Between us, it’s business. But to everyone else? We have to make it look real. Convincing. The kind of relationship no one would dare question.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Convincing.”
“Exactly.”
I let my smile spread, wide and mischievous. “So does that mean I’m your girlfriend now?”
That earned me a look—half incredulous, half annoyed—that made me want to laugh. He was too composed to roll his eyes, but I could feel the urge vibrating off him.
“It’s just an act,” he said firmly.
“Yes,” I agreed instantly, my grin only growing. “Just an act.”
What he didn’t know—what he couldn’t possibly know—was that I had no intention of treating this like some cold, sterile arrangement. No, I was going to live up to the girlfriend name so well he’d forget it was supposed to be fake in the first place.
Because if there was one thing I excelled at, it was blurring lines.
And Ronny? He was about to learn that the hard way.
He hadn’t said yes. Not out loud. Not officially. But he hadn’t said no either, and in my world, that was as good as a win.
He stood, moving around his desk with that fluid, dangerous grace that always made me think of panthers. Predators. His presence filled the room, towering over me until I had to tilt my head back to keep my eyes on his face.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said finally.
“Sure, I do,” I shot back.
“No, you don’t.”
“Then enlighten me,” I challenged, refusing to shrink away.
His gaze dropped to my mouth for the briefest second before snapping back up. “If we do this, there’s no halfway. People will expect a performance, and if you can’t pull it off—”
I cut him off with a laugh, shaking my head. “Ronny, please. I was born for performances. You’re the one I’m worried about.”
That caught him off guard. Just a flicker, but I saw it—the faint twitch at the corner of his lips, like he was suppressing a smile.
“Don’t,” he warned softly.
“Don’t what?”
“Push me.”
The words should have been a threat. Maybe they were. But the way he said them, low and quiet, sent a shiver skittering down my spine.
I stood slowly, matching his height—or as much as my heels would allow. The air between us crackled, thick enough to choke on. I tilted my head, letting my hair fall over one shoulder, and whispered, “Then don’t tempt me.”
For a long moment, we just stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills.
Finally, he broke it. “We’ll try it. For the case.”
Victory exploded in my chest, but I kept my expression cool. “Good.”
“But understand this, Liliana,” he added, his voice darkening. “It’s just an act.”
I smiled sweetly, stepping back toward the chair. “Of course. Just an act.”
What he didn’t realize—what he couldn’t realize—was that acts have a funny way of becoming real when the chemistry is this strong.
And Ronny? He had no idea what storm he’d just agreed to step into.
***
By the time I left his office, my pulse was still racing. The elevator doors closed around me, and I leaned back against the wall, grinning like the cat that had swallowed the canary.
Because I’d won.
I’d gotten him to agree.
And now?
Now the game was mine to play.
I would be the perfect girlfriend. Attentive. Convincing. Believable. So believable that even Ronny himself wouldn’t know where the act ended and reality began.
I could almost hear Erica’s voice in my head, teasing me about how dangerous this was, how insane I sounded. And maybe she’d be right. Maybe it was crazy to poke at a man like Ronny, to try and scale walls built from scars and secrets.
But I’d never been one to back down from a challenge.
And Ronny was the biggest challenge of them all.
I smiled to myself.
Tomorrow, Ronny would step into my world—not as a stranger, not as a bodyguard, not as an investigator.
As my boyfriend.
And if I had anything to do with it… he’d never want to leave.
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