Lily was late to our dinner date. Thirty whole minutes late, and still no sign of her. I tapped my finger against the polished wood of the table, the sharp sound matching the irritation bubbling inside me. Time was a currency I couldn’t waste, and sitting here waiting felt like burning thousand-dollar bills just for fun.
Normally, I’d have walked out, but I needed this more than I needed my next breath. Her father held the keys to a vault of connections that could swing my campaign, and her pristine, sweetheart image was a golden ticket to winning over Gen Z.
“Do you want another bottle of wine or maybe a meal this time?” the waitress asked, leaning in closer than necessary. Her voice dripped with practiced seduction, her uniform buttons undone just enough to give me a view she thought might change my mind.
I didn’t even bother looking at her. “I’m good,” I said flatly, dismissing her with a wave. Hooking up with a random waitress was the last thing I needed, especially not one who might turn around and sell the story to the press. I grabbed my phone, ready to call Weston and rip him a new one to convince him this dinner was worth my time, but then I saw her.
Lily walked in, making a beeline for my table. She wore a sleek purple mini dress that hugged her curves like a second skin, her long legs accentuated by Louboutin heels. Her golden hair cascaded down her back, catching the restaurant’s soft lighting. Her makeup was flawless—the kind of effortlessness that wasn’t effortless at all. She looked perfect.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so late,” she said, sliding into the seat across from me. “My apologies for that. Traffic was a little bitch.”
I raised an eyebrow and took another sip of my wine, letting the glass linger at my lips longer than necessary. “I hope next time won’t be like this,” I said, keeping my tone cool.
She noticed my irritation—or maybe she didn’t care. “Again, I apologize greatly. Kansas City traffic is not something that’s talked about enough.” She flashed a smile, her white teeth gleaming like a toothpaste ad.
“It’s fine.” I signaled for the waitress, who reappeared with a notebook in hand.
“I’ll have the chicken parmesan,” I said, keeping it simple.
“I’ll take the filet mignon, medium rare, with a side of asparagus,” Lily said smoothly, her choice as poised and polished as she was.
The waitress left, and Lily turned back to me, her smile still firmly in place. “I believe we don’t need introductions, but if you’re willing to go that route—”
“I know who you are,” she said, cutting me off.
I nodded, leaning back. “Good. Then let’s get to the point.”
“What’s this all about? My manager gave me the impression this was an important meeting.”
“He wasn’t wrong.” I reached into my briefcase and pulled out a folder, sliding it across the table to her.
She raised an eyebrow as she picked it up. “What’s this?”
“A marriage proposal.”
Her laughter was sharp and sudden, cutting through the ambient noise of the restaurant. “Is this a joke? I get it; you’re a hot cake across America, but a marriage proposal? Really?”
“Let me correct myself,” I said, leaning forward. “A mutually beneficial marriage. Between you and me.”
She narrowed her eyes, her curiosity giving way to a flicker of irritation. “What could I gain from you?” she asked, flicking a loose strand of hair over her shoulder.
I straightened in my seat, leaning forward with my elbows on the table. “I know your biggest goal, and I can help you achieve that while you help me in mine.”
Her confident façade cracked for just a second. Her eyes widened, her posture stiffened, and she quickly breathed before masking her reaction with a tight smile. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice a shade too firm.
“Try me, Lily,” I said, my gaze locked onto hers.
Her mask slipped again, just slightly. She was intrigued, even if she didn’t want to admit it. And that was all I needed to keep pushing.
Her champagne glass twirled lazily in her hand. “And why should I do that?” she asked, her tone light and almost dismissive. But her legs trembled faintly under the table, giving her away. She wanted to know what cards I was holding.
I leaned in closer, lowering my voice as if someone might overhear. “I know how much you’d like your father to see you, to really see you. To prove your worth to him.”
She scoffed, but the sound lacked conviction. “So, let me get this straight—because I want to prove my worth to my dad, I should marry you?”
I nodded, unflinching.
“You’re cocky.”
“That’s not how I want you to see it.”
“I’ll see it any fucking way I want,” she hissed, her voice a whisper-yell.
“Now, you’re misconstruing me.”
“But you’re right.” Her tone softened slightly, the edge dulling. “I want to prove my worth to my father. That doesn’t mean I have to marry you.”
I grabbed the empty wine glass and poured myself a generous amount, gulping it down in one go. I didn’t want to get drunk—elections were coming up, and I was a light drinker—but I needed something to steady myself. This conversation was spiraling in a direction I didn’t like.
“Like I said, this is a mutually beneficial contract,” I began again, setting the glass down. “I have deals that would benefit you—”
“The mutual deal isn’t mutualling,” she interrupted, her sarcasm sharp.
“I hate to say this, but everyone’s saying your sister will take your father’s place, that she’s the one he sees as his legacy. But I think otherwise. I see you, Lily. And trust me when I say you have the potential to be the next big thing.”
“And I will unlock this potential by agreeing to marry you?” Her voice dripped with mockery, her fork hovering over her plate.
“Yes.” I nodded firmly. “Marrying a man who might one day be president of the United States will raise your bar.”
“Which, in essence, means I’m going to be your shadow?”
“Whoever said a politician’s wife has to be a shadow? I know you have big political dreams, and I’m saying we achieve our goals together.”
“By living a lie?” Her eyes locked onto mine, sharp and probing.
“It’s a mutually beneficial marriage, not a lie.” I cut into my chicken parmesan and took a bite, the rich, tangy flavor doing little to distract me from her scrutiny.
“So we’re not going to sell it to the press and every fucking person around us that we’re in love?”
“Nope. Just a few public appearances. That’s all.”
“And how many years are we supposed to keep up this sham?”
“It’s all in the contract I gave you,” I said, gesturing to the folder still on the table. “Which I hope you’ll read with an open mind.”
She smiled at me then, a genuine one that lit up her face in a way I hadn’t expected. “I’ll try and do that,” she said, her tone almost playful.
What the hell was happening? A minute ago, she was grilling me like an FBI agent, and now she was smiling at me like I’d just handed her the keys to the kingdom. She was unpredictable, this one. I couldn’t decide if that made her either dangerous or irresistible.
“I hope you do.” I returned her smile, the corners of my mouth curving involuntarily.
Lily reached into her purse and slid a sleek business card across the table. “This is my card. Do call me,”
“I’ll be doing that,”
“Then, enjoy the rest of your evening.” She rose from her seat, smoothing her dress, and gave me one last smile before walking away. I watched her go, her confidence radiating even in her exit.
Then I saw them. Paparazzi. Cameras clicking, capturing the whole thing. For sure, this would be tomorrow’s headlines. And for once, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.