CHAPTER 4: An Unexpected Invitation

Arabella’s POV

By Thursday morning, I had reached three important conclusions.

One: my younger sister was still getting married to the man who had cheated on me with her.

Two: I had officially become the kind of woman who hired strangers to attend weddings with her.

And three: the most attractive man I had ever encountered was apparently not available for hire.

Tragic.

Utterly tragic.

I stared at the wedding invitation lying on my kitchen counter.

The ivory envelope looked expensive enough to have its own bank account. Gold lettering decorated the front, spelling out Vanessa Hayes and Christopher Reed in an elegant script.

Every time I looked at it, I felt a little sick.

“Stop staring at it,” Olivia said from the sofa.

“I’m not staring.”

“You’ve been glaring at that envelope for three minutes.”

“I’m trying to set it on fire with my eyes.”

“Then you’re doing a terrible job. It’s still intact.”

I threw an apple at her.

She caught it, grinning.

Olivia had arrived twenty minutes earlier with coffee, pastries and the determination to prevent me from doing anything emotionally irresponsible. Unfortunately, she had no idea how much work that would require.

“So,” she said, taking a sip of coffee. “What happened to your billionaire?”

“He isn’t my billionaire.”

“Fine. What happened to the billionaire who appeared at your door looking like he had stepped out of a luxury watch advertisement?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Nothing happened. He explained the situation, apologized, and left.”

“And you let him leave?”

“What was I supposed to do? Throw myself at his feet and beg him to pretend to love me?”

Olivia considered that.

“Honestly? If he looked the way you described, I might have.”

“That’s because you have no standards.”

“I have excellent standards. That’s why I remain single.”

I laughed despite myself.

For a few minutes, the apartment felt normal again.

Then my phone vibrated.

A message from Vanessa.

I stared at the screen.

Vanessa: Hey, Bella! I hope you’re coming to the wedding. It would mean so much to me if you were there.

I read it twice.

Then a second message appeared.

Vanessa: I know things were difficult between us, but I really want us to put the past behind us. Christopher and I are starting a new chapter, and I hope you can be happy for us.

My fingers tightened around the phone.

Put the past behind us.

As if the past were an unfortunate argument over dinner.

As if she hadn’t been the person I called when I suspected Christopher was cheating.

As if she hadn’t comforted me while knowing she was the reason I was crying.

I placed the phone facedown.

Olivia watched me carefully.

“Her?”

I nodded.

“What did she say?”

“Something about putting the past behind us.”

Olivia let out a humourless laugh.

“That’s convenient. People who destroy your life always seem to want you to move on quickly.”

I picked up my coffee.

“I’ve already decided to attend.”

“I know. I still think it’s a terrible idea.”

“Thank you for your support.”

“You’re welcome. That’s what best friends are for.”

I took a breath.

“I just don’t want to walk into that room looking like the woman they abandoned.”

Olivia’s expression softened.

“Arabella, you don’t have to prove anything to them.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

I looked away.

That was the problem.

Somewhere between the betrayal and the endless explanations, I had started believing that I needed to demonstrate that I was fine.

That I was desirable.

That I was successful.

That losing Christopher had not destroyed me.

And perhaps the worst part was that I wanted Vanessa to see it.

I wanted her to look at me and wonder whether she had made the biggest mistake of her life.

“I’m not going to cry at her wedding,” I said.

Olivia raised her coffee cup.

“Excellent. Let’s aim for something more ambitious.”

“Such as?”

“Making the bride jealous.”

I laughed.

“That’s not the plan.”

“Of course not. We are respectable women.”

She paused.

“Mostly.”

By lunchtime, I had convinced myself to stop thinking about Alexander Sterling.

I had also searched his name online approximately seventeen times.

Not because I was interested.

I was simply conducting research.

There was a difference.

His photographs appeared everywhere.

Business magazines. Financial newspapers. Charity events. Corporate interviews.

Alexander Sterling, chairman of Sterling International.

A man whose company owned interests in luxury hotels, commercial property, technology investments and several other businesses I couldn’t pronounce without sounding like I needed a dictionary.

His public photographs were almost identical to the one I had selected from the agency.

Dark hair.

Grey eyes.

An expression that suggested smiling was an expensive habit he had abandoned years ago.

I scrolled through an article featuring him at a business conference.

Alexander Sterling remains one of Bellacourt’s most private and influential billionaires.

Private.

Influential.

Rich enough to make my entire family tree look financially irresponsible.

And I had invited him to pretend to be my boyfriend.

Well, technically, I had invited a photograph of him.

I dropped my phone onto the sofa.

“Ridiculous,” I muttered.

My phone rang.

Unknown number.

I answered cautiously.

“Hello?”

“Good afternoon. May I speak with Miss Arabella Hayes?”

“This is she.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Hayes. My name is Daniel. I work for Mr Alexander Sterling.”

I sat upright.

Alexander Sterling.

Why was his assistant calling me?

“Is everything all right?”

“Certainly. Mr Sterling asked me to contact you regarding an invitation.”

An invitation?

I glanced at Olivia, who was already mouthing questions at me.

“What kind of invitation?”

“Mr Sterling would like you to attend the Sterling Foundation’s private charity gala tomorrow evening as his guest.”

I blinked.

“I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”

“Mr Sterling would like you to accompany him to the gala.”

I stared at the wall.

Then I stared at Olivia.

Then I stared at my phone.

“Why?”

There was a brief pause.

“I believe Mr Sterling would prefer to explain that personally, should you accept.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“No, Miss Hayes.”

“Because I’ve already had one rather unusual experience with your employer.”

“I understand.”

I doubted he did.

“Why me?” I asked again.

“Mr Sterling mentioned that you had an unfortunate experience involving an unauthorized agency booking. He would like to offer you an opportunity to attend the event as his guest, without any obligation.”

I leaned back.

An opportunity?

To attend a charity gala with a billionaire?

Was this how people got recruited into secret societies?

“Is there a catch?”

“None that I’m aware of.”

“Does he expect me to wear something expensive?”

“No, Miss Hayes. Your presence is the invitation.”

I closed my eyes.

That was a dangerously smooth sentence.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Of course. May I have your response by this evening?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you. Have a pleasant afternoon.”

The call ended.

For three seconds, I remained completely still.

Then Olivia screamed.

“WHAT?”

I nearly dropped my phone.

“You heard all of that?”

“Arabella Hayes, you are going to a gala with Alexander Sterling?”

“I haven’t accepted.”

“Why are we discussing this as if the answer isn’t obvious?”

“Because I don’t know why he invited me!”

Olivia grabbed my phone and stared at it as though Alexander’s number might appear on the screen.

“Maybe he likes you.”

I snatched it back.

“He met me once.”

“Some people are efficient.”

“Olivia.”

“What? I’m only saying that if a billionaire wants to take you somewhere, you should at least investigate the situation.”

I shook my head.

“I don’t want to become somebody’s entertainment.”

“Then don’t. Go as yourself. If he’s strange, leave.”

I looked at the wedding invitation again.

The wedding was on Saturday.

The gala was Friday.

Two consecutive nights of pretending my life was more glamorous than it actually was.

I was beginning to suspect the universe had developed a personal interest in embarrassing me.

Across Bellacourt, Alexander Sterling was having a considerably less amusing afternoon.

“Why did you invite her?”

Ethan Cole sat opposite him, looking far too entertained.

Alexander didn’t lift his eyes from the document in front of him.

“Because I wanted to.”

“That is not an explanation.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

Ethan leaned forward.

“You met a woman once, discovered she had accidentally booked your photograph through an agency, and now you’re inviting her to your foundation gala.”

Alexander turned a page.

“When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”

“Because it is ridiculous.”

“Then stop repeating it.”

Ethan laughed.

“Is she beautiful?”

Alexander’s pen paused.

He remembered dark eyes, a stubborn chin and the way Arabella had looked at him as if she were deciding whether to throw him out or ask him to stay.

“Yes,” he answered.

Ethan’s eyebrows rose.

“Oh.”

Alexander looked up.

“Don’t.”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“You’re thinking loudly.”

Ethan grinned.

“I’m simply fascinated. You rarely remember the names of women you meet at business events. Yet you remember this one.”

“Her situation was unusual.”

“Of course.”

Alexander returned to his papers.

Ethan stood and walked toward the window.

“Does Victoria know?”

“My mother doesn’t need to know.”

“Your mother will absolutely need to know when she sees you arriving with a beautiful woman tomorrow.”

“She’ll survive.”

“I’m more concerned about the woman.”

Alexander finally looked up.

“What does that mean?”

“It means your mother has been trying to arrange your marriage since you were twenty-five. The last woman she introduced you to left convinced you were emotionally unavailable.”

“I was.”

“Exactly.”

Alexander gave him a flat look.

Ethan shrugged.

“I’m just saying, if Arabella attends, your mother may mistake her for a serious romantic development.”

“Then my mother can learn not to make assumptions.”

Ethan smiled.

“That’s what you said about the last woman.”

Alexander ignored him.

His attention drifted toward the photograph displayed on his laptop.

Arabella Hayes.

The image had been supplied by the agency during the investigation. It was a simple photograph, apparently taken at a professional event.

He studied it briefly.

He remembered her voice.

The sarcasm.

The embarrassment she had tried so hard to hide.

And the way her expression had changed when she spoke about her sister.

He had met countless people who wanted something from him. Money, influence, introductions, investments.

Arabella had wanted a stranger to stand beside her at a wedding.

And when she discovered who he was, she hadn’t asked for a cheque or a favour.

She had asked where she could find another fake fiancé.

The memory almost made him smile.

“Daniel,” he called.

His assistant appeared at the door.

“Yes, sir?”

“Did Miss Hayes respond?”

“Not yet, sir.”

Alexander nodded.

“Let me know when she does.”

Daniel hesitated.

“May I ask something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Is there a particular reason you want her at the gala?”

Alexander looked back at his laptop.

“No.”

Daniel gave a small nod, although his expression suggested he didn’t believe him.

When the door closed, Alexander leaned back in his chair.

There was no particular reason.

At least, none he was prepared to name.

At 7:18 p.m., I accepted the invitation.

Not because I was excited.

Not because I had spent an embarrassing amount of time imagining what Alexander Sterling looked like without a suit.

And certainly not because Olivia had threatened to attend in my place if I refused.

I accepted because I wanted one evening that had nothing to do with Christopher and Vanessa.

One evening where I wasn’t the abandoned girlfriend or the betrayed sister.

Just Arabella.

The response arrived almost immediately.

Daniel: Thank you, Miss Hayes. Mr Sterling will be pleased. A car will collect you tomorrow at 7:00 p.m. Further details will be sent shortly.

I stared at the message.

A car?

I typed a reply.

Thank you. I can arrange my own transportation.

The response came less than a minute later.

Understood. Mr Sterling will see you at the venue.

I put my phone down.

Olivia appeared in the doorway holding a glass of juice.

“So?”

“I accepted.”

She raised both hands.

“Finally!”

“Please don’t make this into something it isn’t.”

“Of course not.”

She walked over and sat beside me.

“We need a dress.”

I groaned.

“Olivia.”

“Don’t Olivia me. You’re attending a billionaire’s charity gala. You cannot show up wearing the same dress you wore to your cousin’s graduation.”

“That dress is perfectly fine.”

“It has emotional damage.”

I laughed.

“That’s not a real thing.”

“It is when the dress has been through three family gatherings and one breakup.”

She stood, already reaching for her handbag.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Shopping.”

“I have clothes.”

“Not for this.”

I looked at the wedding invitation one final time before following her.

Tomorrow night, I would be standing beside Alexander Sterling in a room filled with people who probably had more money than I had ever seen.

And on Saturday, I would attend my sister’s wedding.

I had no idea how either evening would end.

I only knew that I was tired of allowing other people’s choices to define my life.

For once, I wanted to choose something for myself.

Even if that choice involved a billionaire with unsettlingly beautiful eyes.