“How long do you want them to believe I’m your boyfriend?”
Maya stood halfway out of the car, one hand on the open door, the cold night air sliding beneath the hem of her navy dress.
For a moment, she said nothing.
The porch light of her mother’s house glowed ahead of them, soft and domestic, as if the evening had been ordinary. As if Maya had not danced with the man who broke her heart, listened to him explain the weakness he had mistaken for love, and left a charity fundraiser beside a famous footballer who had accidentally turned her into national gossip material.
Leo waited.
That was becoming dangerous.
Noah had always filled silence when it threatened him. Leo let it exist. He did not rush to explain his question. He did not make it charming. He simply sat behind the wheel, one
