CHAPTER 4

Neveah

The first thing I noticed when I walked into the private dining room was that Sebastian Blackwood was alone.

The second thing I noticed was that he looked annoyingly good doing it.

The third thing I noticed was that I hated both observations equally.

I stopped just inside the doorway and looked around the room again, hoping—praying, really—that I had somehow entered the wrong room. The table was set for two. Two glasses. Two plates. Two chairs. No parents. No lawyers. No family advisers. No elderly relatives prepared to lecture us about the sacred institution of marriage while pretending they had never once regretted getting married themselves. Nothing.

Just Sebastian.

He was sitting at the far end of the table in a dark suit, one ankle resting over his knee, looking completely at ease. His jacket was open, his sleeves slightly rolled back, and his watch caught the warm light from the chandelier whenever he moved his wrist. He looked like a man who had been born knowing exactly how much space he occupied and had never once considered apologizing for it.

His eyes lifted to mine.

A slow smile appeared.

I immediately disliked it.

“Absolutely not.”

His smile widened. “Good afternoon to you too, Neveah.”

I looked behind me, then back at him. “Where are they?”

“Who?”

“The adults.”

He placed a hand over his chest. “I’m thirty-one.”

“And yet you still managed to arrive without supervision.”

He laughed under his breath. “Still charming, I see.”

“Still insufferable, I see.”

“Then everything is as it should be.”

I walked farther into the room, refusing to let him see how much his presence irritated me. I pulled out the chair opposite him but didn't sit immediately. “Where are our parents?”

“They're not coming.”

I stared at him.

He stared back.

“They're not coming?” I repeated.

“No.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because apparently,” he said, reaching for his glass of water, “our parents have decided we're capable of discussing our own potential marriage without an audience.”

I slowly sat down.

“Potential marriage.”

“That's what they called it.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “Interesting.”

“What?”

“I was expecting four people.”

“Four?”

“Our parents. Your father, my father, your mother, my mother. Four.”

“Technically six.”

I frowned. “How did you get six?”

“Our parents are four people.”

“Yes.”

“And you and I make six.”

I stared at him for a moment.

He stared back.

“You know what?” I said. “Never mind.”

He smiled. “I missed this.”

“I didn't.”

“Aww, that hurts."

I rolled my eyes and looked around the room again. It was an unnecessarily beautiful place, the kind of restaurant where the chairs probably cost more than some people's monthly salaries. Dark wood lined the walls, gold fixtures reflected the soft light overhead, and a massive painting of some dead European man watched us from the wall as though even he wanted to know how this disastrous meeting would end.

A waiter entered briefly, placed a menu in front of me, and left.

I didn't open it.

Sebastian did.

“You're not eating?” he asked.

“I came here to discuss a marriage I don't want.”

“That's not an answer.”

“It is when the marriage is to you.”

He lowered his menu and looked at me. “You're still dramatic.”

“And you're still arrogant.”

“I'm not arrogant.”

“You once told a professor that your presentation was the only competent one in the room.”

“It was.”

“You corrected a judge during a competition.”

“He was wrong.”

“You told me my business proposal lacked originality.”

“It did.”

I leaned forward. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Yes.”

“And you still don't see the problem?”

“No.”

I sat back and sighed. “God, you're exhausting.”

“And you've barely been here ten minutes.”

“That should tell you something.”

He chuckled.

That laugh annoyed me too.

There were certain people in life you could tolerate because they were predictable. Sebastian wasn't one of them. He had been irritating since we were sixteen, and somehow, over the years, he'd refined the skill into an art form. He could say three words and make me want to throw a chair at him.

Unfortunately, he had also grown up.

The Sebastian I remembered from school had been irritating, competitive, and convinced he was God's personal gift to intellectual achievement. The man sitting across from me now was broader, calmer, more controlled, and far more dangerous to my peace of mind because he had apparently learned how to wear confidence without looking like he was trying.

I hated that.

I hated that I noticed.

“So,” he said, closing his menu. “Why did you agree?”

I blinked. “What?”

“To this meeting.”

“I didn't agree.”

His eyebrow rose.

“I was told to come.”

“So was I.”

I stared at him.

He stared back.

Something clicked.

“Wait.”

His expression changed slightly.

“Your parents told you I agreed?”

“Yes.”

“My parents told me you agreed.”

Silence.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then Sebastian leaned back slowly.

“They lied.”

“They lied.”

He rubbed his jaw, looking almost impressed. “That's actually quite clever.”

“Clever?”

“Our parents.”

I glared at him. “They manipulated both of us into showing up.”

“Yes.”

“That isn't clever.”

“It's effective.”

“It is deceitful.”

“It can be both.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Did your mother tell you I said yes?”

“She said you'd agreed to meet me because you were open to the idea.”

“My mother said you'd already agreed to marry me.”

Sebastian's expression became genuinely amused.

“That's interesting.”

“What?”

“My father told me you were the one who wanted to consider it.”

My mouth fell open.

I closed it immediately.

“You're telling me they both lied?”

“Apparently.”

I leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

Of all the ridiculous things my parents had done in their lives, this had to be the most impressive.

“They actually set us up.”

Sebastian nodded.

“Unbelievable.”

“Quite.”

“I can't believe them.”

“Neither can I.”

I looked at him. “So you didn't agree?”

“No.”

“Not even remotely?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Good.”

He tilted his head. “Why does that make you sound relieved?”

“Because it means I'm not the only person who thought this was a terrible idea.”

His lips twitched.

“That's almost touching.”

“Don't ruin it.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

I picked up the glass of water and took a drink, mostly because I needed something to do with my hands.

For a few moments, we sat in silence.

It wasn't an uncomfortable silence.

That surprised me.

We had spent half our lives competing, arguing, insulting each other, and trying to prove the other person was inferior. Yet somehow, sitting across from him now felt strangely familiar. Annoying, yes. But familiar.

Sebastian broke the silence.

“Why did you refuse?”

I looked at him.

“The marriage?”

He nodded.

“Because it's ridiculous.”

“That wasn't what I asked.”

I sighed. “I don't want to marry someone because our parents think it would be good for business.”

“Neither do I.”

“And I don't want another man deciding what my life should look like.”

His expression changed.

Only slightly.

But I noticed.

“You've had enough of people deciding for you,” he said.

I looked away.

He knew.

Of course he knew.

News of my failed wedding had been everywhere. I had spent weeks seeing my face beside headlines about being abandoned at the altar. The entire world seemed fascinated by the fact that my fiancé had decided, minutes before the wedding, that I was too difficult to marry.

I didn't want to talk about it.

Not with Sebastian.

Especially not with Sebastian.

“So,” I said, changing the subject, “why did you refuse?”

He was quiet for a moment.

“Because I don't want a wife who married me because of my family name.”

I looked at him.

“That's your concern?”

“One of them.”

“Then why consider me?”

His gaze settled on mine.

“Because you're the one woman I know who would rather insult me than marry me for my money.”

I stared at him.

“That is possibly the worst compliment anyone has ever given me.”

“It's the nicest one I had available.”

I couldn't stop the small laugh that escaped.

His smile appeared immediately.

“Was that a laugh?”

“No.”

“It definitely was.”

“You imagined it.”

“I've known you for fifteen years. I know what your laugh sounds like.”

“Unfortunately, you know too much about me.”

“Likewise.”

I looked down at the table.

Then I looked back at him.

“You really think I wouldn't marry you for money?”

“I know you wouldn't.”

“That's a lot of confidence.”

“You once told me my family name was the only thing about me that had managed to become more arrogant than I was.”

I smiled despite myself. “You deserved that.”

“I probably did.”

The waiter returned, and this time Sebastian ordered coffee for both of us without asking.

I raised an eyebrow.

“You still take it without sugar,” he said.

I stared at him.

He shrugged. “Some things don't change.”

I didn't know why that bothered me more than the insults.

Maybe because he remembered.

Maybe because after all these years, beneath the rivalry and sarcasm, there was still someone who knew exactly how I took my coffee.

The waiter left.

Sebastian leaned forward.

“Let's be honest.”

“About what?”

“Neither of us wants marriage.”

“Correct.”

“And neither of us wants to be controlled by our families.”

“Also correct.”

“We're both single.”

“Unfortunately.”

He smiled.

“And our families want an alliance.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Where are you going with this?”

He leaned back.

“What if we give them what they want?”

I stared at him.

“No.”

“You haven't heard the proposal.”

“I know your proposals. They usually involve irritating me.”

“This one might benefit you.”

“That sounds suspicious.”

“Marriage.”

I nearly choked on my water.

“You're suggesting we actually marry?”

“Yes.”

I laughed.

Not a small laugh this time.

A genuine one.

“You've lost your mind.”

“Possibly.”

“Sebastian, we spent years trying to beat each other.”

“Exactly.”

“We can't stand each other.”

“That's debatable.”

“It isn't.”

He smiled. “Think about it. Our families get their alliance. We get control of our own lives. Neither of us has to worry about marrying a stranger.”

I folded my arms.

“You make it sound simple.”

“It is simple.”

“Marriage isn't simple.”

“No.”

His voice became quieter.

“But ours could be.”

I studied him.

A marriage between Sebastian and me was insane.

Completely, spectacularly insane.

But then again, everything about my life had become insane recently.

I had been abandoned at the altar. I had disappeared for a month. I had returned to work determined to rebuild my life. And now my greatest academic and professional rival was sitting across from me proposing marriage like he was suggesting we sign a business contract.

Maybe this was exactly the kind of ridiculous decision I needed.

“Fine.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“Fine?”

I exhaled slowly.

“We do it.”

For the first time since I had entered the room, Sebastian looked genuinely surprised.

“You're serious?”

“Unfortunately.”

He stared at me.

Then a slow smile spread across his face.

“Well.”

“What?”

“I never thought I'd see the day you voluntarily agreed to lose.”

I immediately regretted everything.

“I didn't agree to lose.”

“Then we're clear.”

I leaned forward. “If we do this, Sebastian, there will be rules.”

His smile sharpened.

“Of course.”

“No controlling each other.”

“Agreed.”

“No interference in each other's careers.”

“Agreed.”

“No pretending this is a love story.”

His expression flickered.

“Obviously.”

“And no falling in love.”

He looked at me for a long second.

Then he smiled.

“That one should be easy.”

I smiled back.

“Good.”

We shook hands across the table.

It felt less like an engagement and more like a business deal between two rival CEOs preparing for war.

Neither of us knew that we had just made the biggest mistake of our lives.

Or perhaps the best one.

Because Sebastian Blackwood and I had spent years trying to defeat each other.

Now we had decided to become husband and wife.

God help us both.