Zac leaned against the table, his fingers tapping lightly against the surface. “He can be a little… selective,” he admitted, hesitating before forcing a small smile. “But just be yourself.”
Mia raised an eyebrow. “Be myself… What does that even mean?”
Zac exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “My grandfather likes people who are genuine. He respects confidence—those who own their story instead of pretending to be something they’re not.”
Mia gave him a dry look. “Zac, we are literally faking it.”
“I know,” he said with a weak smile. “But you? You don’t have to pretend. Trust me, you’re fine just the way you are.”
She shook her head, still uncertain. “I don’t know… I was your P.A., and I never even went to college. Won’t he find that suspicious?”
“About that,” Zac started, choosing
