4. Diamonds

~Sienna~

I walked out of his office, my hands still trembling even after I’d signed the contract. I didn’t know if this would backfire, but at this point, I didn’t have a choice. I’d promised the hospital the pay*ent for Dad’s surgery in two days. If I messed this up, they’d send him out, and I couldn’t afford that.

My head spun with everything that had happened in the past few hours— it's crazy. I took a deep breath, clutching the folder tighter to my chest as I forced myself to refocus. It's just six months, I reminded myself, six months of pretending to be his fiancée. Then, I’d be free.

I dropped the fodder on my desk, ready to start the day, but just as I was starting to settle in, the soft ping of my phone interrupted my spiraling thoughts. A text from an unknown number, which I quickly guessed was from Lucas.

“Stay after work hours. Meeting my father for dinner.”

My stomach twisted. Dinner. With his father, the same CEO I’d been admiring from afar ever since I joined Weston Corp three months ago. And now, I had to meet him as his son’s fiancée, pretending to be someone I wasn’t. I hadn’t even had a chance to fully process the fact that I’d be fooling one of the most powerful men in Bellmore, a man whose reputation could end my career with a single nod.

God save me.

“What’s got you looking so serious?” a familiar voice broke in, pulling me from my frantic thoughts.

I looked up to see Ethan, my friend from college and the best chef in the food department here at Weston Corp. He balanced a tray with two steaming takeout containers, wearing his crisp white chef’s jacket, immaculately pressed, and his dark hair was tied back neatly. He gave me a concerned look as he took in my expression.

“Hey!” I tried to smile, though I knew it probably looked as forced as it felt.

Ethan handed me the food, grinning. “Figured you might have forgotten breakfast. Plus, I get to save you from cafeteria food. Win-win.”

I took the container gratefully, letting the warm aroma of roasted vegetables and garlic ground me for a second. “You’re a lifesaver, Ethan.”

He laughed, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, well, you know you’d choose my cooking over theirs any day.”

“Every day,” I replied, opening the container and taking a quick bite, trying to hide the storm brewing inside me.

Before I could fully enjoy the meal, my phone buzzed again. A new text from Lucas. He’d sent over a list of instructions, from things his father was likely to ask to little personal details about his “life” that I was expected to memorize.

Ethan gave me a curious look as I glanced down at the message. “Who’s that?”

“Oh, just Violet, checking in about a project,” I lied smoothly, pasting on a fake smile as I dropped my phone.

He nodded, but his eyes lingered, suspicion flickering in them. Thankfully, he didn’t push it, leaving me to my thoughts as he headed back to his station.

I spent the rest of the day trying to work through my tasks, but it was nearly impossible with the weight of the impending dinner pressing down on me. How was I supposed to keep this up without slipping? Every few minutes, I had to remind myself why I was doing this: for Dad. For his health, his recovery. This wasn’t just about me; it was about giving him a chance at life.

As the office finally emptied out, I found myself alone, exhaustion settling over me like a heavy cloak. Before I knew it, I’d slumped forward, head resting on my arms as sleep slowly tugged me under.

---

A sudden voice jolted me awake, deep and authoritative.

“Miss Wilde?”

I blinked, my vision blurred as I straightened, coming face-to-face with a man I hadn’t seen before. He stood tall, imposing in a tailored black suit with a crisp white shirt. His hair was neat, dark brown, slicked back professionally, and his steel-gray eyes held a look of polite impatience.

“I’m Derrick, President Jones’s PA. He sent me to collect you,” he said, his tone formal as he gestured toward the door. “The car’s waiting outside.”

“Oh. Right.” I grabbed my bag, trying to ignore the faint flutter of nerves as I followed him through the quiet halls and out the private entrance.

Outside, a sleek black Rolls-Royce awaited, gleaming under the streetlights like something from a dream. Derrick opened the rear door, and I slid inside, my eyes widening as they met the sight before me.

President Jones himself. His gaze was fixed on an iPad, scrolling smoothly, but even without looking, his presence filled the car—a cold, commanding presence that made the car feel even smaller.

The door shut with a soft click, and Derrick took the driver’s seat, starting the engine. We pulled away in silence, the tension thick between us. I barely had time to collect myself when Lucas spoke, his voice cold and matter-of-fact.

“I sent you a list of everything my father is likely to ask earlier today,” he said, his gaze still trained on the screen. “Including what you need to know about me. I expect you’re done memorizing them all.”

Oh. No. I had only scanned through the message earlier.

I scrolled through the message on my phone, trying not to roll my eyes as I took in the endless list of his life details—from his academic achievements to random trivia. My cheeks flushed as I came across one particular line.

“You really had to include your boxers’ size?” I muttered, stifling a laugh.

One corner of his mouth lifted, but he didn’t respond to my jab. “I need you to know every detail if this is going to work. And for tonight, you’re Selena Granger—a model from Canada, my long-distance girlfriend.”

“What?” I blinked, incredulous. “Why lie about my identity?”

He finally looked up, his eyes sharp and intense. “Do you think my father would accept a low-ranking employee dating his son? Just do as I say, and this will go smoothly. Any more questions?”

I swallowed the retort rising in my throat, forcing myself to stay silent. Of course, he’d thought of every angle, every excuse. His arrogance grated on me, but there was nothing I could do about it now.

The car came to a stop outside an exclusive boutique, its gleaming windows showcasing racks of designer clothing.

“Why are we stopping here?” I asked, glancing at him, confused.

He arched an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to my dress. “You can’t meet my father in… that.”

I looked down at my dress, a mix of frustration and irritation bubbling up. “Excuse me? This dress is from my latest collection!”

He didn’t even blink. “It’s giving… ratchet.”

Oh, Lord give me the strength to resist the urge to strangle this man.

He stepped out of the car, gesturing for me to follow. My cheeks burned as I trailed after him into the boutique, trying to ignore the smug satisfaction he seemed to radiate.

Inside, two attendants practically fawned over Lucas the moment they saw him, their eyes lighting up at the sight of his black card.

“Give her a classy model look,” he instructed, barely sparing them a glance as he took a seat. The attendants eagerly guided me to the back, their excitement contagious as they sifted through racks of high-end dresses.

“Let’s make her look like a goddess, shall we?” one of them grinned, pulling out a glittering gold dress.

After what felt like an eternity of being dressed, prodded, and made up, I finally looked at my reflection—a stranger stared back at me. The gold dress hugged my frame perfectly, and my hair was styled in soft waves that framed my face just right. My makeup was flawless, accentuating my features in a way that felt surreal.

I stepped out, and Lucas’s gaze flickered over me, lingering just a second too long before he turned away, expression carefully neutral.

“This is good,” he said with a nod. Turning to the attendants, he gestured to a rack. “Pack up everything in her size.”

I opened my mouth to protest, to insist that one dress was more than enough, but he was already heading toward the counter.

“Are you seriously buying all these clothes?” I asked, trailing after him with a scowl.

He didn’t look at me as he handed over his card. “Are you planning to wear the same dress every time you meet my father?”

My mouth snapped shut. He had a point. Begrudgingly, I bit back a retort and waited as he finalized the purchase.

Then he moved over to a glass case displaying an array of diamond rings, his eyes narrowing on a sparkling pair.

I blinked, my stomach lurching as he gestured toward one. “You’re… buying rings?”

He didn’t even pause. “I forgot to mention—I’m proposing tonight.”