Chapter 2

Serena POV

I did not want to be here.

The strappy heels I was wearing pinched my feet with every step, and the black dress covering my nakedness was too tight to be comfortable. My hair was obstinate, much to the frustration of the two hours I’d spent attempting to tame it. I paused just beyond the top-floor restaurant, caught my breath, and reminded myself this was not a date.

It was survival.

The last eight months have been hell for me. Damian had used my name in taking a loan I know nothing about, and I have spent the last eight months trying to pay for it and save my image.

One dinner. One stranger. Then I could go back to ignoring my parents’ calls and sinking into my little cave of post-divorce bitterness and a pregnancy termination, which I never told anyone, including my mom.

The host smiled as I approached. “Good evening, ma’am. Name?”

I almost said disaster because my life has been a disaster. “Serena Lancester. I think someone’s already here.”

He led me through glass doors and into a sea of golden chandeliers’ light and hushed murmurs. Gentle music and clinking glasses came from the rooftop. Heads together, leaning in, secrets exchanged between couples in tuxedos and evening gowns. I wondered if I had stumbled into the wrong room.

And then once we crossed a door into another part of the rooftop that seemed private, I saw him.

He sat far back, against the glass railing that looked out over the city skyline. Dark suit, white dress shirt, no tie. His blazer was placed at the back of his chair, on which his back rested. His appearance alone was screaming trouble. One hand held a glass of whiskey, while the other one drummed against his thigh rhythmically as if he were keeping time to something.

He was… beautiful. That was the only word. Strong jawline, messy dark hair, and a quiet intensity that made everything else around him seem dim. His sparkling blue eyes locked on me as I approached. I swear, they saw too much too quickly.

“You’re late,” he said.

I blinked. No hello. No smile. Just that low, deep voice that sounded like trouble.

“I like to make an entrance,” I said coolly, sliding into the chair opposite him.

He didn’t smile. But his icy gray eyes flickered with something. Amusement or maybe annoyance. I couldn’t tell.

“You’re Serena Lancester

.”

“And you are?” I raised a brow.

“Myles Voss.” He leaned back, letting the name drop like a pin.

It did. I’d heard the name before. Damian used to work for him. Myles Voss, the lawyer with the sharpest brain and the coldest heart in the city. Tycoon. Hotshot. Rumored to be something dangerous when you get on his bad side. The kind of man I swore to avoid for the rest of my life.

I narrowed my eyes and murmured. “Did my parents seriously think this would go well?”

He shrugged. “Likewise. This was… mutual coercion, I believe.”

“Well, at least we agree on something.” I nodded and reached for the glass of water in front of me.

It was too cold, but I drank it that way anyway. As soon as I dropped the glass, a silence settled between us. Not the good kind or the kind where hearts beat fast and lips almost touch. This was the awkward kind, like two strangers stuck in an elevator with nothing to say.

He cleared his throat. “So, Ms. Lancester. Divorced, no kids, lives alone, still depends on parents.”

I choked on the water. “Excuse me?”

He blinked slowly. “I read your file.”

“My what?”

He tilted his head like I was being dramatic. “Look, I like to know who I’m being set up with. It’s not stalking. Just… due diligence.”

“Wow. Romantic. Do all your dates come with background checks?” I laughed, but it came out sharp. “I should have been told this beforehand, then,” I muttered the last part to myself.

“Only the important ones.”

I raised a brow at his words. The urge to ask why this was important danced on the tip of my tongue, but I chose to swallow it instead as I thought it didn’t matter.

“You don’t even want to be here,” I said, my voice rising a little. “You’ve been checking your watch since I got here. Why not just say what you want and leave?”

He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table while keeping his eyes on my face. “What I want, Ms. Lancester, is a business arrangement,” he said with a smirk.

I stared at him. “Come again?”

He looked so calm, like he wasn’t just casually flipping this date upside down.

“I think we both want something out of this night that has nothing to do with love,” he said. “You need a break. A chance to restart. I need a woman who looks like she can stomach a few headlines and keep up the act.”

“What kind of act?”

“Pretend girlfriend. Temporary. A few weeks. Just long enough to convince my grandfather I’m not a total lost cause.” His tone never changed from that cold, efficient, and businesslike manner.

“You’re kidding,” I scoffed.

“I’m offering a deal. You help me out, and I help you. You get exposure. A shot at one of my firms, maybe as a manager. Money, too, if that sweetens it.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. I was speechless.

“You want to pay me to date you?”

“It’s not dating, we’re not dating… I mean for real, though,” he said smoothly.

“It’s acting. Clean, simple, and temporary.”

“Is this something you do often?” I asked. “Hire women to play house?”

“No. You’re the first,” he said.

“Why me?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his gaze firmly held mine, and I couldn’t find it in myself to look away.

“Because I already know who you are, and because I chose you.” He said slowly, like it mattered.

He chose me?

The word settled in my chest, heavy and confusing. I didn’t like it. Not coming from him. Not when I hadn’t had a choice in anything for so long, and even right now, I still don’t. I stood, suddenly needing air.

“Ms. Lancester...”

“No. Whatever this is, I want no part in it.” My voice shook, and I hated that it did. “You don’t know me.”

“I know your name and your ex-husband, shouldn’t that be enough?” He said calmly, not moving from his seat.

I almost laughed at his wordplay, but held myself back just in time. There was something dangerous, something sharp and quiet, like a blade hidden behind that smile of his.

This man didn’t ask. He decided, and I didn’t like that quality either. It reminds me so much of Damian. However, I couldn’t stop the question that tumbled out of my mouth.

“What exactly do you know about me, Mr. Voss?”