Chapter 8

The restaurant was ridiculously fancy. Marble floors that shone like mirrors, gold-trimmed walls, and a chandelier so massive it looked like it belonged in a palace. The tables were draped in crisp white linens, with crystal glasses and polished silverware neatly arranged like they were expecting royalty. Even the waiters gilded around like they were trained in a dance studio.

I tugged at the gold dress Romona had shoved me into. It sparkled under the soft lights, but it didn’t fit right. It was unbearably tight at the waist, loose at the bust, and itching like hell. Fuck, it felt like I was sharing the dress with a bunch of termites it made my skin crawl. My dark brown hair was pulled into a neat bun, with a couple of Romona’s sparkly hairpins stuck in to make it look fancier than it really was. I mean it meant to look that fancy, seeing that we spent three whole hours on the damn hair.

The whole place screamed luxury, and I felt like I was the only one who didn’t belong. The marble countertops, gold fixtures, and soft, ambient lighting screamed luxury, but it just made me feel like an outsider playing dress-up.

“Don’t fidget,”

Romona hissed beside me, her eyes darting around like she expected a SWAT team to burst through the doors any second.

I couldn’t help but feel my nerves spike.

“Great, now you’ve got me thinking more about the whole situation,”

I shot back, trying to shake off the anxiety creeping in. The way Romona was acting wasn’t helping one bit. Edging at me like screwing up was out of the question. I mean it was but she didn't have to be a stickler about it

Romona glared at me with disdain. Her blue eyes contemplated if bringing her was the right choice. She sighed, sounding disappointed before saying,

“Lyla, for once in your life, don’t screw this up.”

Before I could retort, Romona cleared her throat, her attention straight ahead. My gaze followed hers instinctively.

The man walked in, carrying himself with an ease that instantly stood out in this overly polished setting. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with bright brown eyes that crinkled at the corners whenever he smiled. His salt-and-pepper brown hair gave him a distinguished look. He was good-looking, not in a perfect, sculpted way, but in a rugged, effortless kind of way that drew attention without trying too hard.

Before I knew it, he walked over to our table, his warm smile showing a little wrinkle at the corners of his eyes.

“Ladies,”

he greeted, settling into his seat across from us. His voice was warm and smooth, almost enchanting.

“You’re not plotting anything illegal in here, are you? Should I be worried?”

Romona let out a laugh, but it sounded tight, forced even. Like she was trying to overcompensate for something.

“Declan, you’re always so dramatic.”

So, this was Declan Pierce...

He glanced between us, his eyes landing on me for a second longer.

“Well, well, well, look at you two,”

he said with a teasing grin.

“Romona, you always manage to look like you walked straight off a runway…”

He said, and for once, I actually saw a genuine smile on her face. I couldn’t blame her, he wasn’t wrong. Romona was stunning.

She wore a dark emerald green dress, simple but sleek, hugging her curves just right. It had a deep neckline that wasn’t too much but definitely caught your eye. The fabric shimmered a little under the lights, and her deep blue eyes stood out against her pale skin. Her blonde hair was styled in soft, loose waves, framing her face like she’d just walked out of a high-fashion shoot. Honestly, she looked like someone who could turn heads without even trying. And it's hard to believe she was a woman in her late 30ths.

Ironic isn't.

His eyes flicked over me before meeting my gaze again.

“And you must be Lyla…"

He gestured towards me

“You’re absolutely glowing tonight. I might just have to take notes.”

I shifted uncomfortably but gave a wide smile anyways. I'm not used to compliments from strangers, especially ones that felt a little too personal.

“Thank you very much, I'm glad your pleased"

I manage to say, Romona picked up from there

“You’re too kind, Declan. Just doing what I can to keep up.”

Romona beamed, stealing his attention, obviously enjoying it. He chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

“Well, it’s working. I’m impressed.”

He turned back to me with a playful smirk.

“But I’m guessing you didn’t get dressed up just to impress me, did you? Or is this all part of some master plan of yours my dear?”

His smile twitched mischievously a bit.

Romona waved her hand dismissively, returning the smile.

“Oh, please. We’re just here for a nice dinner, no tricks tonight.”

Declan laughed softly, shaking his head.

“I’ll believe it when I see it. You’re both too mysterious for my liking.”

Romona gestured toward me with a flourish.

“Now for the formal introduction, this is Lyla Harrison, my daughter and business partner.”

Declan’s eyes shifted back to me, and his smile widened, almost knowingly.

“Romona didn’t exaggerate, you’ve got that spark about you.”

I raised an eyebrow, unable to resist a little jab.

“Spark? Are you sure she didn’t mean ‘lack of options’?”

Declan barked out a laugh that echoed, clearly amused.

“I like her already.”

He leaned even forward . His chin on his interlock hands framing as a stole for them, giving me a quick, assessing glance.

Romona cleared her throat, clearly trying to steer the conversation.

“She’s got a sharp sense of humor, but don’t let it fool you. Lyla’s got a head for business.”

She informed, trying to impress him.

Declan smiled, nodding slightly.

“I can tell. She's a lot more interesting than I imagined.”

I shrugged, trying to keep it light.

“I’m just here to do what’s necessary.”

And by necessary, hoping these business deal work out. I'm too desperate for your money.

“Sounds like a woman who knows what she wants,”

he replied, his voice a little more serious now.

“I respect that.”

Romona leaned back again, grinning.

“Trust me, she’s got more drive than most people twice her age.”

Declan’s eyes flicked back to me, his expression thoughtful.

“Well, that’s good to know. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

The waiter walked up and handed us the menus, and I instantly felt like I had no idea what I was doing. I scanned the options, but everything sounded so fancy, and I had no idea what I should actually pick.

Declan set his menu down first, glancing up at us with a smile.

“I’ll start with the lobster bisque, and for the main, the filet mignon. Medium rare, of course.”

He looked around, raising an eyebrow.

“With wine please, Can’t go wrong with that. ”

Romona nodded approvingly.

“I’ll have the truffle risotto to start, and the seared scallops for the main. Light but decadent. With wine as well, just what I’m in the mood for tonight.”

I stared at the menu, feeling more out of place by the second.

“I’ll, uh... have the... Caesar salad?”

I said, second-guessing myself.

“And maybe the roasted chicken?”

Romona didn’t miss a beat. She smiled oddly at the waiter, cutting in smoothly,

“She’ll have the truffle risotto to start, and the seared scallops for the main. She loves seafood.”

I shot her a look, unsure whether to laugh or be embarrassed.

“I do?”

I muttered under my breath.

Declan grinned, clearly entertained.

“Well, you’ll find out soon enough,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

Romona flashed him a confident smile.

“Trust me, she will. She’s just not used to these kinds of choices. I’ll make sure she enjoys it.”

The waiter nodded, scribbling down the orders before heading off, and I slumped a little in my chair, feeling like I’d just been forced into a fancy food challenge.

“So, Lyla, let’s cut to the chase. You’ve probably got questions, and I’ve got answers. Fire away.”

I glanced at Romona, but she was busy pretending to admire the hand soap dispenser. Typical.

“Well,”

I began, crossing my arms,

“Romona said you’re looking for someone to...play a role?”

He nodded, his expression sobering slightly.

“That’s right. My late grandfather’s will has some...conditions to his inheritance that I must access. His lawyer who my grandfather trusted serves as a witness if I eventually do get married. If I don’t get married within the year, I will lose my inheritance completely.”

“Wow,”

I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

“A romantic at heart, I see.”

Declan grinned.

“It’s less about romance and more about survival. The inheritance isn’t just money, it’s a legacy. Businesses, properties, people’s livelihoods. If I don’t step up, my half-brother will. And trust me, that’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

I frowned, tilting my head.

“So, why not find someone who actually wants to marry you?”

“Because,”

he said, his tone still light but edged with seriousness,

“I don’t have time for the whole courting-and-trust-building process. I need someone reliable, someone who understands this is a business arrangement. No strings, no mess.”

“Sounds...cold,”

I admitted, though I couldn’t deny the logic.

He shrugged.

“Maybe. But life’s messy enough. This? This keeps things clean.”

“Lyla, it’s a simple arrangement. You marry Declan, stay married for a year, and walk away with enough money to start over.”

Romona finally spoke up, her voice dripping with that patronizing tone she always used.

I stared at her.

“And you get anything at all?”

Romona flinch, her glare cutting me

“That conversation is between me and Mr Declan here, don't bother yourself too much about it.”

She urged and I let her be.

Declan raised a hand, his expression turning apologetic.

“Look, I get it. It's a lot to take in. But I promise, I’m not some monster trying to control your life. I’ll make it as easy as possible. Plus, I’m a great conversationalist.” He winked.

I snorted despite myself.

“I can see that.”

He straightened, his tone turning serious again.

“I won’t pressure you, Lyla. If you say no, that’s fine. But if you say yes, I guarantee you’ll be taken care of. This isn’t just for me. it’s a win-win.”

Romona stepped closer, her voice low and insistent.

“Lyla, this is your shot. You know what will happen if this falls through. Do you want to keep living like this, scraping by, or do you want a fresh start?”

I looked at Declan, who watched me with an expression that was surprisingly kind. No judgment, no pity, just patience.

And for a moment, I wondered if this insane deal could actually work. As of on cue, our orders come in one at a time.

“Let's eat first"

Declan offers

“We still have time to figure this out Don't we"

He urged but it felt like his words weren't necessarily directed at me.