𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐑 || 𝐋.𝐌 ✓

➢Chapter 8-Just for show

Lucius and Y/n sat.

Grace, not through yet, lifted a copy of a newspaper and read aloud, "'Lucius Malfoy hit the town with his mystery date, but what started hot quickly moved to tepid as the two stared at their letters over sexy entrées.'" She paused to send them each a scolding glare, then continued. "'He and the woman in the red dress shared feisty looks and tantalizing smiles before the evening took on a different tone: one of business as they pecked at their quills. The scene was set with champagne and caviar, but the aphrodisiacs at Britain's famed El Diablo restaurant had no effect on these two office drones. Is Malfoy's tame date made to distract from the sizable issue of his hashtag? Or is this the one woman in existence who didn't fall at King Malfoy's feet?'"

Y/n's jaw dropped.

"What paper is that?" Lucius asked in a tone that suggested he'd file a lawsuit against them just for fun.

"It's the Daily Prophet of course! This entry was written by none other than the malicious b*tch, Rita Skeeter. And it's already been shared across the media about two hundred times." Grace frowned and her forehead didn't so much as pucker. Her skin was porcelain-smooth, her white suit pristine, and her jewelry winking gold. "The point is, they already smell a rat, and people are paying attention. You two are going to have to up your game."

"We coordinated our calendars. We're on the same page," Y/n said, refusing to take the younger woman's abuse silently. "A few more dates and I'm sure the public will see us as a couple. This is just new. They're speculating,"

Grace's fierce expression softened. She came to sit next to Y/n, facing her, her smile in place and blue eyes bright. "Y/n. You're a vibrant, beautiful woman. You're in love with a gorgeous, hunky billionaire. You were at a restaurant that served everything but sex on those plates. The reporter who happened to be there expected to see Lucius and a mystery woman all but fornicate on top of the table."

Y/n flinched.

"You two walked in sort of cozy according to this reporter"-Grace gestured to the newspaper and then dropped it onto the table-"but you left single file. Lucius, you didn't so much as palm her lower back."

"He did so," Y/n snapped. "On the way to our table, he placed his palm on my back." She remembered because she'd been aware of that imprint the entire dinner. She cast a glance at Lucius, who raised an eyebrow in interest.

"Regardless. Whatever you did wasn't enough to leave an impression on Armanda Lightman of the Daily Prophet. You two have to do better. The only opinion that matters is the public one."

"So we pander," Lucius said through his teeth. Y/n was in agreement with him for once. It was ridiculous.

"You hired me to help you convince the world your cold heart has been thawed by a smoking hot romance."

Even though Y/n had accused him of something similar last night-being cold and unfeeling-she found herself rising to his defense. There'd been a definite moment of warmth when he talked about his mom. And when he'd confessed his middle name was Abraxas. Later she'd even dug out of him that Abraxas was a family name. His father's name to be specific.

"Last night showed how unprepared you two are." Grace leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. "Kiss her."

"What?" His was a voice of alarm and Y/n echoed the sentimentality.

"I want to see if you can pull it off." Grace shrugged.

"I'm not a performing elf, Grace."

"We can pull it off," Y/n chimed in. Lucius looked moderately relieved that he wasn't alone in this battle. First kisses-even ones for show-were not to be trotted out in a boardroom for an audience of one. Y/n didn't want a grade, for Merlin's sake.