Chapter 3

A black Maybach pulled up to the boutique in under fifteen minutes.

Aiden Lane walked in.

I'll give him this: he was exceptionally well put together. Six-foot-one, bespoke charcoal suit, features that looked like someone had spent real time on them. Just standing there, he was enough to make half the room forget to breathe.

But the boredom in his eyes—and the contempt—told me everything I needed to know the moment I saw it.

This man had never taken this engagement seriously. Not for a single day.

Chloe rushed to him the moment he walked through the door, clutching his arm like she'd survived an ordeal. "Aiden! She tried to steal my gown, and she had the nerve to say she was your fiancée! You have to do something—"

Aiden's gaze finally found me.

He took me in—hoodie, jeans, combat boots. Against the gemstone-draped society women surrounding me, I was conspicuously out of place. His mouth curved into something thin and sardonic.

"You're Gloria Reed?"

I looked at him without expression. "You know my name. Then you should also know exactly how this engagement came about."

Aiden let go of Chloe and moved forward, hands in his pockets, looking down at me with the relaxed ease of someone who's never had to look up at anyone.

"Of course I know. Your grandfather did my family a great favor once, so my father agreed to the arrangement."

He paused, and his tone went cold.

"But a debt of gratitude and a marriage are two very different things. I already have someone I want to be with." He tilted his head toward Chloe. "Let Chloe have the gown. Go home and tell your people this engagement is off. We're not a good fit, you and I."

Isabel's brow tightened. She was about to speak. I raised one hand to stop her.

I looked Aiden directly in the eyes.

"Mr. Lane, I have two questions."

"First: you hung up on me because you knew in advance that Chloe was coming here to make things difficult for me. Didn't you."

Something shifted briefly in his face before he composed himself. He didn't bother denying it—he didn't even bother pretending to.

"So what if I did? I was hoping you'd take the hint and walk away."

I nodded slowly. "All right. Second question."

My voice was as unhurried as if I were asking about the weather.

"Are you certain you're prepared to live with the consequences of making me walk away?"

Aiden stared at me for a moment, then let out a low, dismissive laugh.

"Gloria, I have respect for your grandfather. But don't get confused about what that means—Lane Group is one of the top three publicly traded companies in New York. We pull in ten billion a year. You think an old man's dying wish has the power to chain me to someone for the rest of my life?"

His voice was saturated with impatience.

"What do you want? Money? Property? I'll compensate you. But don't fool yourself into thinking a piece of paper entitles you to attach yourself to the Lane family."

Chloe laughed beside him. "There. Aiden's being generous. Take the money and go while you're ahead."

I looked down at the bills still scattered across the floor—the ones Chloe had thrown at me earlier.

And I smiled.

Not from anger, not from humiliation—but from genuine amusement. The kind that comes from realizing a situation is even more interesting than you expected.

"Mr. Lane," I said, drawing my phone from my pocket, "I think you may have some…misconceptions about me." I glanced up. "But that's all right. Misconceptions have a way of clearing themselves up rather quickly."