2. Who Are You?

The crowd backed away as Lucien marched toward us. His cold eyes locked on me, and his jaw worked like he was holding himself back from snapping. The cafeteria went so quiet I could hear the hum of the lights overhead.

“Did she say girlfriend?” someone whispered.

“The kitchen girl?”

“I’ve never seen her before.”

I straightened my shoulders, ignoring the sting on my cheek. His clean cedar scent hit me as I stepped forward.

Up close, his presence was even more intimidating than I expected, taller and sharper.

“Baby, I’ve had enough of Greg and his crap,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even. I reached for his arm. “I’m sick of being undercover. You need to fire him.”

Lucien stared at my hand like it was a bug he hadn’t decided whether to crush or flick away. His brow creased slightly. For a second, he looked confused, then his face went blank again.

He brushed my hand off his sleeve.

I gasped, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Seriously? That’s how you’re going to play this?” I stepped closer, almost daring him to move. “So I’m good enough for you behind closed doors, but not in front of your employees?”

“Who the hell are you?” His voice was quiet, but it sliced through the air.

I let out a humorless laugh. “Wow. Denying me completely now? That’s low, even for you, Lucien.” I turned to the stunned crowd. “Everyone, apparently I don’t exist! Three months together, and now I’m a stranger!”

A few phones went up. A few whispers. Lucien’s eyes flicked across the room, reading every expression, every angle. He knew this was bad.

His attention swung back to me, cold enough to make my throat tighten.

“Whoever you are, you’re fired,” he said flatly. “Now.”

I clutched my chest. “Fired? For standing up to a creep? For expecting my boyfriend to have a backbone?” My voice cracked right on cue. “Don’t bother firing me. I quit.”

I jabbed a finger at his chest. “And we are done. Find someone else to warm your bed and put up with your emotional constipation.”

The whispers rose again as I tossed my hair over my shoulder and turned on my heel.

I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked away, but I didn’t look back. Elvis, the kitchen supervisor, looked at me with… pity? Disappointment?

Whatever.

I grabbed my bag from my locker and pushed through the glass doors into the sunlight. My pulse was still racing.

I’d done it.

I’d called out Greg. I’d confronted Lucien Hayes. I’d made a scene big enough to trend on the company intranet by lunchtime.

Except—

Wait.

My stomach dropped.

I wasn’t supposed to get fired. That wasn’t part of the plan!

The whole point was to make him notice me, not throw me out.

I froze on the sidewalk, clutching my bag. People rushed past, but my brain was stuck on replay.

Ronan’s going to kill me. Or worse, expose me.

My phone vibrated against my hip. It was my best friend calling. She worked in the marketing department and surely, the news of what happened must have reached her already.

“Please tell me it was a different redhead that created a scene in the cafeteria." I could feel the sheer panic in her voice.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Maya…”

She screamed so loud I had to yank the phone away from my ear. When I cautiously brought it back, she was still going.

“What were you thinking? Greg? The CEO? His girlfriend? Camila, what the actual hell?”

“I know, I know. It wasn’t exactly how I planned it.”

“You planned this without me?” she yelled. “Do you know what people are saying right now? That you’re sleeping with Lucien freaking Hayes!”

I cringed, stepping aside as a bus roared past. “Look, I’ll explain later, okay?”

“Later?!”

“The bus is here,” I lied quickly. “Talk when you’re home.”

“Camila Sterling, don’t you dare—”

“Love you, bye!” I hung up before she could continue.

I sat on the bench across from the building, the sting on my cheek reminding me of Greg’s slap. The adrenaline faded, and the reality of what I’d done hit me.

I wanted Lucien to notice me. He was supposed to pull me into his office for the next part of the plan.

Instead, I’d just gotten myself fired.

I had to fix this before Ronan found out.

* * *

“Spill. Everything. Now.” Maya plopped onto her boyfriend Edmund’s lap at our kitchen table, her eyes locked on me like lasers.

Tight curls framed her high bun and her bright top matched the fire in her eyes, all protective and impossible to dodge, which was exactly why I couldn’t tell her the full truth.

I stirred the pasta sauce, pretending to be completely absorbed in the task. “It’s really not that big a deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Maya threw her arms wide. “You called Lucien Hayes your boyfriend in front of everyone, got slapped by Greg, and got fired. That’s insane!”

“Wait, was that the prank you needed my help for?” Edmund said.

My hand froze mid-stir. “Edmund—don’t.”

“What prank, babe?”

“Camila made me send some untraceable emails to a particular office, can’t really remember who or what. I didn’t know she was planning corporate warfare.”

“Ugh!” I groaned. I should have known Edmund would rather tell his girlfriend the truth than lie for his girlfriend’s best friend. Edmund was a tech expert and also worked remotely. I had gone to him for help with sending those emails to the health office.

“It wasn’t corporate warfare,” I protested while turning down the heat. “I was just trying to... you know what, can we forget about it? Dinner’s almost ready.”

“No way,” Maya slid off Edmund’s lap and blocked my path to the cupboard. “You don’t get to make pasta and pretend this didn’t happen. What was your endgame here?”

I bit my lip, embarrassed once again by how half-baked my plan was.

“I just needed to get his attention, okay? I thought if I made a scene about Greg, who everybody knows is a creep, Lucien would have to deal with it. I didn’t expect to get fired.”

“And the girlfriend thing?” Maya pressed.

“That was... improvisation.”

Maya shook her head. “You know I can tell you are lying, right?”

“Dinner,” I reached around her for the plates. “Let’s just eat and gossip about this later.” But even as I served dinner, my mind raced.

He must have found out about today’s incident from one of his many spies, and he will soon call.

The thought pounded in my head like a warning drum. Suddenly, my phone vibrated in the pocket of my joggers, and I screamed, nearly dropping a stack of plates.

“Jeez, Cam,” Edmund laughed. “It’s just your phone.”

But it was not just my phone. I knew exactly who texted, and the growing dread in my stomach told me the night wasn’t gonna end well.

Ronan: Well done, Camila. You managed to screw things up. What did I tell you about controlling your impulsiveness? 9 p.m. Not a second later.

My stomach tightened.

Lucien Hayes might have fired me.

But Ronan was the one I actually feared the most.