Chapter Eight

Lily’s POV

The next morning, the weight of my conversation with Lucas still lingered in my mind. He had let his guard down—if only for a moment. And it left me unsettled.

I knew better than to assume it meant anything. Lucas Hawke was a man of walls, built high and reinforced with steel. He carried himself with an air of untouchability, his every move calculated, his every word precise. But that fleeting vulnerability… it made me wonder what lay beneath the surface. Was there more to him than the cold, composed businessman he presented to the world? Or was I simply grasping at something that had never truly existed?

Shaking the thought away, I forced myself out of bed. I couldn’t afford to be distracted. Not now.

I made my way to the bathroom, my bare feet padding against the cool marble floor. The mirror reflected a face that wasn’t quite mine yet—at least, not the version of me I was used to seeing. There was something different in my eyes, something wary. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of the last few days catching up to me, or maybe it was the quiet realization that I had stepped into a world where nothing was truly mine.

The water ran warm as I showered, steam curling around me in thick waves. I allowed myself a few moments to simply exist, to let the water wash away the thoughts swirling in my head. But even as I stepped out, wrapping a towel around my body, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched—not literally, but in the way that came with being in someone else’s world, playing a role I wasn’t sure I could pull off.

After drying off, I dressed in a fitted cream blouse and a navy-blue skirt. Jasmine had insisted I at least try to dress the part of a billionaire’s wife, so she sent over a wardrobe that cost more than my father’s entire hospital bill. Each piece had been carefully chosen, tailored to perfection, as if my appearance alone could make this arrangement more believable.

I wasn’t used to designer clothes, but I couldn’t deny the confidence boost that came with looking the part. The fabric hugged my frame in a way that made me feel… different. More poised. More in control. Maybe that was the trick—if I could convince myself, I could convince everyone else, too.

Just as I was about to leave the room, there was a knock on my door.

I hesitated before opening it, expecting a staff member. Instead, Lucas stood there, dressed sharply in a tailored suit. His gray eyes met mine with the same unreadable expression he always wore. He looked as polished as ever, his presence commanding without effort. It was infuriating how easily he carried himself, as if the world bent to his will.

“You’re awake,” he observed.

I crossed my arms. “Is that surprising?”

His lips twitched slightly—almost as if he wanted to smirk. “Not really.”

I raised a brow. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

Lucas studied me for a beat before responding. “We’re having breakfast downstairs. Join me.”

It wasn’t a request.

I sighed but nodded. “Fine.”

He turned on his heel, and I followed him down the grand staircase. The mansion was eerily quiet except for the distant sounds of staff moving about. 

When we reached the dining room, I nearly lost my breath. The table was adorned with an extravagant spread—fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, and more food than I had ever seen on a breakfast table. 

“You do realize there’s only two of us, right?” I asked, staring at the feast.

Lucas sat at the head of the table, motioning for me to take a seat across from him. “I like having options.”

I rolled my eyes but took a plate, carefully selecting a croissant and some fruit. 

As I started eating, Lucas sipped his black coffee, watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. 

“What?” I finally asked.

“You adjusted quickly,” he noted, setting his cup down. “Most people would have been overwhelmed.”

I snorted. “You think I’m not overwhelmed? I was evicted, had loan sharks threaten me, and now I’m stuck in a contract marriage with a man who treats emotions like they’re a contagious disease. Believe me, I’m overwhelmed.”

Something flickered in his gaze, but it was gone before I could analyze it. 

“I have a meeting at the office today,” he said instead. “You’ll come with me.”

I nearly choked on my croissant. “Excuse me?”

“You’re my wife,” he reminded me. “Even if it’s for show, people need to see us together. It’s good for business.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “And if I refuse?”

He tilted his head, studying me. “You won’t.”

I opened my mouth to argue but realized he was right. The contract. The deal. The fact that I had no other choice.

“Fine,” I muttered. “But don’t expect me to sit quietly and smile like some trophy wife.”

Lucas smirked. “I wouldn’t dare.”

I rolled my eyes again and took another bite of my croissant, trying to ignore the strange, lingering tension between us.

And the sinking feeling that, somehow, I was in way over my head.