Elara stood in front of her bathroom mirror at 7:32 PM and tried not to panic.
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The emerald dress hung on the back of her door. The gold heels sat by her bed. Her hair from the salon was still mostly intact, falling in soft waves that only needed minor fixing. The lash extensions made her eyes look bigger, more dramatic.
She should feel ready. She didn’t.
What if she didn’t look good enough? What if she showed up and Marcus realized he’d made a mistake? That she didn’t belong in his world no matter how expensive the dress was?
Stop it, she told herself. You’ve faced worse than a dinner date.
She pulled out the makeup she had. Drugstore brands mostly, but she knew how to work with what she had. A smoky cat
eye. Nothing too heavy. Just enough to make her eyes pop against the green silk.
Her hands were steadier than she expected.
By 7:50, she was dressed. The emerald silk clung to her curves in ways her work clothes never had. The neckline dipped low but not scandalous. Elegant. Sexy without trying too hard. The gold heels added three inches, making her legs look
longer.
She turned in front of the mirror.
She looked like Zendaya and Teyana Taylor had a baby. Confident. Powerful. The kind of woman who walked into rooms
and made people stop talking.
Her phone buzzed at exactly 8:00 PM.
**Marcus:** *I’m downstairs. El.*
El.
She stared at the nickname. He’d never called her that before. It felt intimate. Personal. Like they were actually something
more than a contract.
She liked it more than she should.
Elara grabbed the clutch, then stopped. Her wallet. Her card. She’d left them on the kitchen counter.
Should she go back for them?
No. The billionaire was taking her out. She wouldn’t need money tonight.
She locked her apartment and took the stairs carefully in the heels. Each step felt precarious, but she made it to the ground floor without falling.
The black Mercedes was parked outside. Engine running. Marcus stood beside it, hands in his pockets, looking at his phone
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He was wading a dark suit Perfectly tailored. The kind that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe before today.
Her hair was styled back, Clean. Sharp.
God, he was beautiful
Elata pushed through the building door
Marcus looked up
And stopped.
His eyes traveled from her heels up to her face. Slow. Taking in every detail. His lips parted slightly like he was about to say
something, but no words came out
She walked closer “Hi”
Nothing
“Hello?”
Still nothing
“Hey
He blinked Shook his head slightly like he was clearing fog “Sorry You look
“Bad?”
“No.” His voice came out rougher than usual. “You look incredible”
Something warm bloomed in her chest.
He moved to open the car door for her, his hand brushing her lower back as she climbed in. The touch lasted half a second
but let heat in its wake.
You smell really nice,” he said before closing the door
Efara smiled to herself as he walked around to the driver’s side. The perfume. She’d had it saved in her phone gallery for two years. A bottle she’d walk past in department stores and spray on her wrist just to smell it for a few hours. Too
expensive. Always too expensive.
Unit pesterday when a million dollars hit her account.
She’d bought it this afternoon. Finally.
i did in the driver’s seat and started the car. The engine purred to life.
are we going?” she askeri.
Dyner in me
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Chapter 16
He pulled away from the curb, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. “You’ll see.”
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The city blurred past her window. Elara tried to focus on the buildings, the people, anything but the way Marcus looked
driving, Confident. Relaxed in a way she’d never seen at the office.
At a red light, he glanced at her. Quick. Like he was checking if she was still real.
She caught him doing it twice more before they hit the highway.
“What?” she finally asked.
“Nothing.”
“You keep looking at me.”
“You’re hard not to look at.”
The light turned green. He accelerated smoothly, weaving through traffic like he’d done it a thousand times. When he needed to reverse into a parking spot to grab something from a shop, his right hand went to the back of her seat. He
turned to look over his shoulder, his face inches from hers.
His cologne hit her. Clean. Expensive. Something with cedar and probably other things she couldn’t name. It made her
want to lean closer.
He finished parking and turned back to face forward. “I’ll just be a second.”
He left before she could respond.
Elara sat in the car, her heart doing something stupid in her chest. This was a performance. A show for the photographers who would definitely be at the restaurant. None of this was real.
So why did it feel real?
Marcus returned with a small bag. He tossed it in the back seat and pulled out of the spot. This time when he reversed, his hand went to her headrest. His body turned toward her again, close enough that she could see the faint stubble on his jaw.
Focus, she told herself. This is just a contract.
They drove for another twenty minutes before pulling up to a location that made Elara’s stomach drop.
A massive crane. A platform suspended in the air by thick cables. A table set for two with white linens and candles. Two
hundred feet above the ground.
“We’re eating up there?” Her voice came out smaller than intended.
“Yes.” Marcus got out and walked around to open her door. “Don’t worry. It’s completely safe.”
She took his offered hand and stepped out. The heels clicked against the pavement.
A staff member approached, clipboard in hand, “Mr. Thorne. Miss Vance. Right this way.”
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They were strapped into safety harnesses. The staff checked every buckle twice. Then the platform began to rise.
Slowly. Smoothly. The ground falling away beneath them.
Elara’s fingers gripped the edge of her seat. Marcus’s hand covered hers.
“Breathe,” he said quietly. “I’ve got you.”
The platform stopped two hundred feet up. The city spread out below them like a glowing map. Cars looked like toys. People like ants. The wind was gentle this high up, just enough to make the candles flicker.
Elara looked at Marcus. He was already watching her.
“You planned this,” she said.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I have the money, plus I hate boring restaurant where we sit and pretend to be in love.” He leaned back in his chair. “If we’re doing this, then we might as well do the most.”
A waiter appeared from somewhere, pouring wine into crystal glasses.
The city sparkled below them. The stars above. And Marcus Thorne sitting across from her looking like he’d built this entire moment just for her.
This was supposed to be fake.
But nothing about this felt fake at all.
AD
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