Lucas let the silence hang until Mia shifted uncomfortably in her chair and Lucius looked down at his cufflinks. Only then did he lean forward, elbows on his knees, green eyes cool and sharp.
"Enough," he said quietly. "This stops now. Mia, you don't get to sprint into my office every time he looks at you sideways. Lucius, you don't get to ambush her with marriage proposals like some deranged acquisitions officer. You're both making me crazy."
Mia opened her mouth, but Lucas held up a hand. "No. My turn."
He reached over to the low table, pulled a legal pad toward him and uncapped a pen with a click that sounded ominous. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm drafting a contract. Not a marriage contract, not a merger, a truce."
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "A truce?"
