Bella returned a minute later, breath slightly uneven as she clutched the small notebook to her chest like it contained national secrets. Her fingers were trembling a little—not from nerves about the interview, but from the strange warmth that had crept under her skin since Lucas called her my wife earlier.
"Okay," she said, settling beside him on the couch and tucking her legs beneath her. "Let's start before your important ten minutes are over."
Lucas chuckled lowly, that deep, unbothered sound that always seemed to find its way beneath her composure. "Ten minutes were up the moment you said my husband."
She rolled her eyes, though her pulse betrayed her calm. "You're still blushing, aren't you?"
He cleared his throat, eyes fixed on her notebook. "Let's start, Mrs. Costanzo."
The way he said it—firm, possessive, natural—sent a flutter through her stomach. Mrs. Costanzo. It still felt surreal, like a title borrowed from someone else's life. She bit the inside of her cheek to hide the small, involuntary smile tugging at her lips.
"Fine." She flipped open the notebook. "Question one—'How would you describe yourself as an employee?'"
Lucas smirked. "That's easy. You're hardworking, dedicated, and allergic to breaks."
"That's not how interviews work, Lucas. I need a proper answer. This one is full of overconfidence."
He tilted his head, pretending to think. "Alright. Say, 'I'm efficient, adaptable, and capable of handling pressure well.'"
She scribbled it down, mumbling, "Sounds good…" before glancing up again. "Next—'Why do you want to work with our organization?'"
Lucas leaned closer, voice dropping low. "Because the CEO is nowhere near as charming as my husband?"
Bella's mouth fell open. "Lucas!"
He laughed quietly, clearly amused by the way color rushed into her cheeks. That stupid, infuriating warmth spread again, and she hated how easily he could do that.
"Okay, okay," he said. "How about—'Because your organization aligns with my values, and I believe my experience can contribute positively to your vision.'"
She blinked, surprised. "That actually sounds… really good."
He shrugged lazily. "Told you. I can charm anyone, even interview panels."
She snorted softly. "Please. You'd probably walk in there and offer to buy the company."
He grinned. "Not if you're working there. I'd have to behave."
Something in his tone softened, and for a second, her chest tightened. He said things like that so easily, as if the thought of her being part of his world wasn't strange at all. She flipped to the next page to keep her focus from wandering somewhere dangerous.
"Next question—'What's your greatest strength?'"
"Patience," Lucas said instantly, lips twitching.
Bella raised a brow. "Yours or mine?"
"Mine. I mean, I've been patient for fifteen minutes while you keep pretending I'm not irresistible."
She threw a pen cap at him, laughing under her breath. "Focus, Mr. Costanzo."
He caught it effortlessly, his grin only widening. "Alright, fine. Your answer should be something like—'I'm consistent and empathetic; I connect well with people.' Because that's true."
Her laughter faded as she looked up. There was no teasing in his tone this time, only quiet certainty. "You really think that about me?"
He met her gaze. "I know that about you."
Her pulse stumbled. For a second, she forgot the next question, the notebook, the entire point of this practice. His words were so simple, yet they hit somewhere deep, somewhere she hadn't let anyone reach in a long time.
The air between them shifted—soft, weighted, familiar yet new. She dropped her gaze, hoping he didn't notice the faint tremor in her hands. "Okay," she murmured, her voice smaller. "Then… what's my greatest weakness?"
Lucas leaned in, close enough that she felt the brush of his breath against her temple. The proximity made her heart stutter. "You underestimate yourself."
Her pen froze mid-page. Slowly, she looked up. His eyes held hers—steady, unreadable, dark enough to make it hard to breathe.
"Lucas…" she started, but her voice trailed off.
He smiled faintly. "Write that down. Because it's true."
She swallowed and obeyed, though her mind barely registered the words on the paper.
To shake off the tension curling through her, she flipped to the next question. "Alright, genius. 'Where do you see yourself in five years?'"
Lucas took a sip of his coffee, his eyes glinting with mischief. "With my handsome husband and my kids. One of them definitely your clone. Probably trying for another one."
Bella gaped, heat rushing to her face. "That's not what I meant!"
He chuckled. "Fine. You could say—'I see myself growing within the organization and taking on new challenges that allow me to learn and contribute.'"
"That's better," she muttered, though her heart was still hammering.
"Though personally," he added under his breath, "I like my answer more."
"Lucas."
"Yes, Mrs. Costanzo?"
She shot him a helpless look, but it only deepened his grin.
They went through a few more questions—him teasing, her pretending to be exasperated—but beneath the laughter, she felt something else: safety. Ease. It wasn't just that he helped her with the answers. He made her believe she could actually do this.
Finally, she sighed and leaned back, tapping her pen against the notebook. "You know… you're actually pretty good at this."
"I told you, I'm a man of many talents."
"I was thinking more like a man of many distractions," she said dryly, though her lips curved.
He leaned closer, his tone dipping into that low warmth that always made her forget how to breathe. "You call it distraction. I call it motivation."
She tried not to smile but failed miserably. "You're impossible."
"Yet you married me."
"Because I'm pregnant."
"Sure," he said, finishing his coffee. "Keep telling yourself that."
Bella laughed softly, shaking her head. The sound surprised even her—it had been a while since laughter felt this light. When she looked at him again, her chest felt oddly full.
"Thank you… for this. I actually feel like I can do it now."
Lucas tilted his head, that faint, fond smile tugging at his lips. "You always could, Bella. You just needed someone to remind you."
The words landed somewhere deep, and for a moment, she couldn't find a response. Why do you say things like that so easily? she wanted to ask, but what came out was a whisper. "You say things like that too easily."
He reached out, brushing his thumb gently against her knuckles. The touch was brief, but it lingered like warmth against her skin. "Maybe because I mean them."
The moment stretched—quiet, steady, and so intimate it made her chest ache.
Bella smiled faintly, her voice a little shaky. "You should probably start working before your schedule forgets you exist."
Lucas chuckled, standing. "Maybe. But my ten minutes were worth it."
As he walked toward the bedroom, Bella watched him go, unable to stop the warmth blooming quietly in her chest. It scared her a little—how natural it was becoming, how easily he fit into the corners of her life.
She turned back to her notebook, flipping through the pages with renewed focus. The words looked clearer now, steadier, like her handwriting had borrowed his confidence.
From the doorway, Lucas paused.
He should've gone to his room ten minutes ago, but watching her there—hair messy from running her fingers through it, notebook balanced on her knees, sunlight painting her cheek—was worth every second of delay.
Bella's brows furrowed in concentration as she reread her notes, whispering the answers under her breath. Her lips moved with a kind of earnestness that made him smile without meaning to. She didn't even notice him standing there.
She never did, not when she was lost in her own world. And that, somehow, was what drew him most.
He leaned against the wall, coffee cup still warm in his hand, and let himself watch. She looked softer in the morning light—no walls, no guarded politeness. Just Bella. The same woman who'd once faced the world alone and still managed to smile through the cracks.
You underestimate yourself, he'd said earlier. It wasn't just a line—it was the truth. She had no idea how strong she looked from the outside, how her quiet resilience made everything around her feel a little steadier.
Lucas's thumb brushed over the rim of his cup. For years, he'd moved through life with precision—orders, control, no room for uncertainty. But lately, everything about her made the world feel unpredictable again.
And somehow, he didn't mind.
When she'd thanked him, something in her eyes had flickered—grateful, trusting, hesitant. It wasn't love; he knew that much. But it was something. A beginning.
He'd meant what he said. She could do this. She just needed someone to remind her—and he didn't mind being that person.
He'd told himself their marriage was about the baby, about responsibility. But standing there, watching her trace her pen across the page, he knew it wasn't just that anymore.
It was the way she steadied him without even trying. The way Rachel called him Dada and it felt right. The way he keep thinking about home even when he is working in the office. The way mornings like this—simple, domestic, ordinary—felt like something he'd been chasing his whole life without realizing it.
Bella looked up suddenly, catching him watching. "You're still here?" she asked, her tone caught between amused and exasperated.
Lucas smiled, unbothered. "Maybe I was waiting to make sure you remembered all the answers."
She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Go to work, Mr. Costanzo."
He gave a small, mock salute, though his gaze lingered a moment longer. "Yes, Mrs. Costanzo."
Her laugh followed him down the hallway, light and soft and far too easy to get addicted to.
By the time he reached his room, the sound had faded, but the warmth of it hadn't. It settled somewhere deep, somewhere dangerous. Lucas exhaled slowly, setting his cup down. Maybe, just maybe, he was in more trouble than he'd thought.