Fermín's car rolled to a stop in front of the restaurant where the team dinner was taking place, and Lucia let out a slow breath before stepping out. She adjusted the hem of her black dress, feeling its snug fit against her body. It was a simple yet elegant piece, hugging her curves in all the right places, the thin straps leaving her shoulders bare. She hadn’t thought much about what to wear tonight, but now, standing here, she was acutely aware of how the fabric clung to her body. Not that it mattered, though.

"Ready?" Fermín asked, locking the car as he joined her.

"Yeah," she muttered, straightening her posture.

As they stepped inside, the low hum of conversation and laughter filled the restaurant. Most of the team was already there, scattered around tables, and engaged in conversation.

The moment Lucia walked through the door, Pablo’s eyes locked onto her like he had no choice in the matter. His gaze dragged over the way the dress hugged her, the soft curve of her waist, the way her hips moved as she walked. His eyes couldn’t help but linger just a moment longer on her, capturing the curve of her ass. The slit in the fabric gave a teasing glimpse of her thigh when she stepped forward, and for a brief second, his mind wandered into very, very dangerous territory. Fuck.

His jaw tightened as he forced himself to look away, shaking off whatever the hell that was. He reached for his glass of water and took a sip, hoping the cold liquid would drown out the heat creeping up his neck.

Lucia, meanwhile, was completely unaware of his reaction as she greeted a few familiar faces while making her way toward their table.

As soon as she got close, she finally looked at him and something twisted in her stomach. She would never admit it, not even to herself, but there was no denying that Pablo cleaned up very well.

The black suit fit him perfectly, emphasizing his broad shoulders, the muscles beneath the crisp fabric. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing just enough skin to make her mouth feel a little too dry. His tan skin contrasted sharply against the dark color, and the way his sleeves hugged his forearms - strong, veined, annoyingly perfect - made something coil tightly inside her.

Forcing herself to push the thought aside, she sat down, only for him to smirk at her immediately.

"You took your time," Pablo remarked, leaning back in his chair, arms resting on the table.

Lucia arched a brow. "Why? Did you miss me?"

Pablo let his gaze flicker over her one more time before meeting her eyes again. "No, it would be absurd to miss you."

Lucia smirked, clearly pleased with herself. "Glad we’re on the same page."

Fermín groaned, already regretting sitting between them. "Can we get through one dinner without the two of you acting like five-year-olds?"

Lucia rolled her eyes, ignoring him. "What’s exhausting is having to sit next to him all evening."

Fermín sighed, rubbing his temples. "For the love of God, at least pretend to be civilized."

Lucia smirked. "Depends. Does that mean he has to shut up?"

Pablo chuckled, shaking his head. "Admit it, you'd be bored without me."

Lucia took a slow sip of her water, staring at him over the rim of her glass. "I’d be at peace without you."

"Same thing."

She huffed, turning to Fermín instead. "How do you put up with him every day?"

Fermín exhaled dramatically, clearly at his wit's end. "I need a drink."

--------------------------------------------------

As the evening progressed, the formalities of the dinner began. The functionaries took the floor, including some higher-ups from Arsenal, who had flown in specifically for the event.

The restaurant grew quieter as they stood, glasses in hand, waiting for the speeches to begin. One of the senior figures from Arsenal, a tall man with a sharp suit and a slight accent, cleared his throat before speaking.

"It’s an honor to be here with you all, and it’s a great pleasure to be part of such an amazing team," he began, his voice resonating through the room. "We’ve been watching closely, and the potential in this team is evident. Together, we will achieve great things."

Then the other functionaries and Arsenal representatives took their turns speaking. Pablo sat across the table, trying his best to look engaged, but his mind kept drifting.

As one of the speakers continued, Pablo found himself glancing at Lucia, who was sitting to his left. She was leaning slightly forward, focused on the speech, and without intending to, his gaze dropped lower, lingering for a moment on the open neckline of her dress. The soft curve of her chest was now clearly visible, and his eyes unwittingly stayed there just a fraction too long. His breath caught, his mind was quick to remind him of everything he had been trying not to think about.

His jaw tightened, and his breath caught for a moment.

Fuck, he thought, shaking his head internally, trying to regain focus and push the thought away. But it was too late - the damage had been done. He quickly looked away, pretending to pay attention to the speaker in front of him, but the image lingered in his mind.

Fermín, sitting next to him, noticed the brief lapse in attention. A small, knowing smirk appeared on his face as he watched Pablo, clearly entertained by his reaction.

Without saying a word, Fermín shifted in his seat, enjoying the quiet amusement of the moment, but he stayed silent, knowing exactly how to push Pablo’s buttons.

Pablo, feeling the weight of Fermín’s gaze, glanced at him quickly, only to see his friend suppressing a grin. He shook his head in frustration, hoping that no one had noticed his slip-up, and focused once more on the speaker in front of him.

--------------------------------------------------

When the waiter came to take their orders, Lucia spoke first. "I'll have the steak, medium rare, with roasted vegetables."

Pablo barely glanced at the menu before saying, "Same."

Lucia turned her head toward him, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Couldn’t think of your own order?"

Fermín groaned. "Seriously? You’re arguing about food now?"

"She started," Pablo said defensively.

Fermín let out a dramatic sigh. "I hate both of you."

The waiter, looking mildly amused, took their menus and walked away.

Dinner continued, and so did the relentless back-and-forth between them. It was like a game neither of them could resist, but Fermín was starting to wish he had a seat somewhere far away from their verbal tennis match.

At one point, Pablo glanced at her plate. "You're cutting it wrong," he commented, his eyes narrowing.

Lucia paused mid-movement, her knife hovering over the steak. "Excuse me?"

"You’re cutting against the grain," he gestured toward her plate. "Makes it tougher."

Her grip tightened around the handle. "Do you want me to stab you with the knife?"

Fermín let out an exhausted groan. "Stop, no killing on this table. Next time, I’m sitting far away from you two."

Lucia ignored him, locking eyes with Pablo. "Are you going to critique everything I do?"

He smirked. "Only when you’re doing it wrong."

Lucia set down her knife and leaned in slightly. "Funny. I was just about to say the same thing about your entire existence."

Pablo chuckled. "You're exhausting."

Fermín, looking dangerously close to snapping, turned to Lucia. "Can you at least pretend to be civil for five minutes? I'm trying to enjoy my food."

By the end of the evening, Lucia and Pablo had managed to not kill each other—though barely.

Fermín, looking utterly exhausted from playing referee, drove them both home.

And as they sat in the backseat, the car filled with silence, neither of them spoke.

But even without words, the tension remained, thick and palpable in the small, shared space.