Your Girlfriend Calls Me Daddy

Chapter 173 - 174 | See You at 8

The walk back to the main campus took longer than it should have. My legs still felt unsteady in a way that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion and everything to do with the woman currently walking three feet ahead of me like we hadn’t just spent two hours tangled together on a conference table.

Noel’s uniform looked perfect. Not a single wrinkle. Not a hair out of place. She’d somehow managed to reassemble herself into the pristine Stark heiress in under five minutes while I was still trying to remember which button went where on my shirt.

"Stop staring at my ass."

"Wasn’t."

"You were."

"Maybe a little."

She didn’t turn around, but I caught the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth. Progress.

"Training starts tomorrow at six AM," she said. "Don’t be late."

"I’m never late."

"You were late today."

"That was different. I had meetings."

"Excuses are irrelevant. Six AM. Gym three. If you’re not there when I arrive, I’m starting without you and reporting your absence to Reeves."

"You’d report me to Laurana?"

Noel finally turned, one eyebrow raised. "Professor Reeves. And yes. Professional boundaries exist for a reason."

The irony of that statement coming from someone whose taste was still fresh on my tongue almost made me laugh out loud. I managed to contain it to a small smirk.

"Something amusing?"

"Nothing. Six AM. Gym three. Got it."

She studied my face for a long moment. Looking for something. I wasn’t sure what.

"This doesn’t change our dynamic," she said finally. "In public, we’re teammates. Nothing more."

"Understood."

"I’m serious, D’Angelo."

"So am I."

"Good."

She turned and walked away. Her stride was confident and unhurried, the kind of walk that said she owned every inch of ground beneath her feet. I watched until she disappeared around a corner, then let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

My phone buzzed.

Aurora: Still on for tonight?

I checked the time. Six thirty. An hour and a half until our meeting at the observation deck.

Rome: Yeah. See you at 8.

Aurora: Okay.

A pause. Then:

Aurora: Are you okay? You seem different lately.

Rome: Different how?

Aurora: I don’t know. Less angry. More present.

I stared at that message for a long time. Tried to figure out what to say. Nothing came.

Rome: Maybe I’m just tired.

Aurora: Maybe.

Another pause.

Aurora: See you tonight, Rome.

I pocketed the phone and headed for the parking lot where Marco was waiting with the Mercedes. The sun had started its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that would have been beautiful if I’d been in a state to appreciate them. Instead, my mind kept cycling through the events of the day. Meeting with my father. The Vanguard recruitment pitch. Two hours with Noel in a conference room. And now Aurora wanted to talk.

Seven heroines. Six claimed. One remaining.

The system had been quiet all day. No notifications. No quest updates. No sarcastic commentary about my life choices. I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.

Marco opened the door as I approached. "Home, sir?"

"Yeah. I need a shower and a change of clothes before eight."

"Hot date?"

"Something like that."

The drive back to the penthouse took twenty minutes. I spent most of it staring out the window at Century City’s skyline, thinking about Aurora’s message. Less angry. More present. Was that true? Had I actually changed, or was I just getting better at pretending?

The original Rome had been a disaster. A walking catastrophe of poor decisions and wasted potential. The system had dropped me into his body with the expectation that I’d either fix his life or die trying. Option B seemed increasingly likely given the rate at which complications kept piling up.

But somewhere along the way, the mission had shifted. It wasn’t just about survival anymore. It wasn’t just about completing quests and collecting heroines like achievements in a video game. These women had become real to me. Their feelings mattered. Their futures mattered.

That was either personal growth or a spectacular tactical error. The jury was still out.

The penthouse was empty when I arrived. Cheon had left a note on the kitchen counter: "Mera and I went to pick up dinner. Be back by 7:30. Don’t do anything stupid while we’re gone."

The "don’t do anything stupid" felt pointed.

I showered. Changed into dark jeans and a black henley. Checked my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

The face staring back at me still felt wrong sometimes. Too handsome. Too perfect. The heterochromatic eyes, one grey and one green, still caught me off guard when I wasn’t expecting them. SPECIMEN kept everything optimized whether I wanted it to or not. My hair fell in exactly the right way. My jaw sat at exactly the right angle. Even the small imperfections I’d acquired over the past few weeks, the faint scars from fights and training, seemed to enhance rather than detract.

I stared at my reflection a moment longer. Somewhere in the past few weeks, the Angelo Corporation heir’s immaculate presentation had merged with the playboy’s natural confidence and produced something that looked dangerously like it belonged in this world. The kind of face that could anchor a story. The kind of presence that made people stop and look twice without understanding why.

The realization was both useful and deeply uncomfortable.

By seven twenty-five, I’d moved to the living room. I heard the penthouse door open. The specific rhythm of two sets of footsteps — one in heels, one in boots. The rustle of takeout bags.

Then silence.

I turned.

Cheon stood in the entryway holding Thai food containers like evidence. Mera was beside her, amber eyes tracking over me with the focus of someone conducting a forensic evaluation. Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

Finally, Mera set her bags on the side table and crossed her arms.

"So," she said slowly. "Who are you trying to impress?"

"You look nice," Cheon said carefully.

"Thanks."

"Where are you going?"

"Meeting Aurora at eight."

Mera set her bags on the counter and turned to face me fully. Her tail swished behind her in that way it did when she was thinking hard about something.

"The Aurora?" she asked. "Original protagonist’s girlfriend Aurora? Final heroine Aurora?"

"That’s the one."

"And you’re meeting her alone."

"Yes."

"At night."

"Yes."

"Looking like that."

I glanced down at myself. "What’s wrong with how I look?"

"Nothing. That’s the problem." Mera crossed her arms. "You look like you’re going on a date."

"It’s not a date."

"Does she know that?"

"We’re just talking."