Chapter 4: First Contact

Dinner was at seven.

Arwen stood before Isolde’s closet at six-forty, staring at the row of dresses that screamed a life she’d never lived.

Her hand moved to a deep emerald dress with a neckline that plunged lower than anything she had ever worn.

Just for tonight, Arwen.

By the time she made it downstairs, her heart was beating so hard she thought everyone would hear it.

A staff member directed her to a dining room. Long table, high-backed chairs, crystal chandelier throwing prisms of light across white walls.

Marcelline sat at one end of the table, already eating a small salad. She looked up as Arwen entered, and something flickered across her face.

“Isolde. How punctual.”

The surprise in her voice wasn’t hidden very well. Apparently Isolde had a history of being late.

“Thank you for having me,” Arwen said, taking the seat a staff member pulled out for her.

“My son will be joining us shortly.” Marcelline’s gaze swept over Arwen’s dress. “That’s new.”

“I like trying new things.”

“Hmm. You’ve been full of changes lately. New hair. New dress. New punctuality.” Marcelline set down her fork. “One might wonder what prompted such a transformation.”

“The wedding,” Arwen said simply. “Feels like a good time for a fresh start.”

Before Marcelline could respond, footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Caelum Ravencroft walked in and the air changed.

Up close, he was even more intimidating. Tall, with broad shoulders filling out his dark suit perfectly. His face was all hard angles with high cheekbones.

He looked at Marcelline first. “Mother.”

Then his eyes turned to Arwen, and she forgot how to breathe.

“Miss Valehart.” His voice was deep and completely devoid of emotion like he was greeting a business associate. “I trust your room is acceptable.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

He sat down at the head of the table, and a staff member appeared immediately with wine. His attention fixed on Arwen in a way that made her skin prickle.

“You changed your hair.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“It’s hair.” He sipped his wine, his expression never changing.

Marcelline made a small sound that might have been amusement. “How romantic.”

“Romance wasn’t part of our agreement,” Caelum said, still looking at Arwen. “Was it, Miss Valehart?”

Arwen swallowed. “No. It wasn’t.”

“Good. Then we understand each other.”

Dinner was served. Marcelline carried most of the conversation, asking about wedding plans that Arwen had memorized from the binder her mother had given her.

Caelum barely spoke, just watched Arwen like she was something under a microscope.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably only forty-five minutes, Marcelline stood.

“I have calls to make. Caelum, why don’t you show Isolde the garden? I’m sure you two have much to discuss.”

Caelum stood, buttoning his suit jacket. “Miss Valehart.”

Arwen followed him out through French doors that led to the garden. It looked like it had never seen a weed in its life. It had perfectly manicured hedges, stone pathways and fountains.

They walked in silence for a moment, the only sound was the distant rush of water.

“We should discuss expectations,” Caelum said finally.

Of course. Not getting to know each other. Expectations.

“Alright,” Arwen said carefully.

He stopped near a bench but didn’t sit. Hands in his pockets, he looked at her with that same analytical gaze.

“This marriage is a business arrangement. You understand that.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then let me be clear about what I expect.” He ticked off points like he was in a boardroom. “First, discretion. What happens in this family, stays private. No running to the press. No unauthorized interviews. No social media posts without approval.”

Arwen nodded, her throat tight.

“Second, loyalty. You represent the Ravencroft name now. Your behavior reflects on me, my company and my family. I expect you to conduct yourself accordingly.”

“Meaning?”

“No scandals. No embarrassments. No situations that require damage control.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I know you enjoy attention, Isolde. But there are limits to what’s acceptable.”

Isolde enjoys attention. Arwen filed that away.

“And third?” she asked.

“Performance. We will attend events together. Charity galas, business dinners, family functions. You will smile. You will be charming. You will play the role of devoted wife.” He paused. “In public.”

“And in private?”

Something flickered across his face. “We maintain separate lives. You have your interests. I have mine. We don’t interfere with each other.”

He pulled out his phone, checking something. “Your suite is in the east wing. Mine is in the west. We have shared spaces for maintaining appearances. Otherwise, we stay out of each other’s way.”

This was the coldest conversation Arwen had ever had. And she was supposed to marry this man in four days.

“You really didn’t want to marry me, did you?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.

He looked up from his phone. For just a second, something almost human crossed his face. “Want doesn’t factor into decisions like this. Your family needed financial stability. My family needed social legitimacy and business connections. The merger makes sense for both parties.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only answer that matters.” He pocketed his phone. “You knew what this was when you agreed to it, Isolde.”

Right.

“What if I wanted more?” Arwen heard herself ask. 

His expression didn’t change. “Then you’d be disappointed. I’m not interested in love, Miss Valehart. If you can’t accept that, now is the time to say so.”

He was giving her an out.

And she couldn’t take it. Because walking away meant her family lost everything.

“I can accept it,” she said quietly.

“Good.” He glanced at his watch. “I have work to finish. Feel free to explore the grounds. Just stay away from my private space.”

Arwen felt something crack inside her chest.

“I should go,” she said, her voice small. “It’s been a long day.

“Of course.” He gestured toward the house. “After you.”

They walked back in silence. Inside, the chandelier had been turned on, throwing patterns of light across the marble floor.

At the entrance to the east wing, Arwen turned to say goodnight.

“One more thing.”

She stopped, her hand on the banister. “Yes?”

He moved closer, and suddenly the space between them felt too small. His presence was overwhelming—the height of him.

Arwen froze as his fingers brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek. The touch was gentle, almost tender.

“There,” His voice softer than how it has been all evening. “That’s better.”

For a second, Arwen almost believed the tenderness was real.

Then she flinched back without thinking, her body reacting before her brain could stop it.

The warmth vanished from his face almost immediately. He stepped back, his expression hardening again.

“You flinched.” His eyes bore into hers. “Isolde wouldn’t have.”

Before she could respond or even process what she’d done, he gestured up toward the corner of the hallway. A small camera, barely visible in the crown molding.

“Security cameras throughout the house,” he said, his voice back to that detached, business tone. “For safety. But also for documentation. In case there are ever questions about our relationship.”

He’d been performing. That gentle touch, that warm voice, it had all been an act for the cameras.

“I’m tired,” Arwen managed.

“Of course.” But his eyes hadn’t left her face. “You should rest. Tomorrow we have an event to attend. You’ll need to be at your best.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Ravencroft.”

“Caelum,” he corrected. “We should probably use first names. For the cameras.”

“Goodnight, Caelum.”

He walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hallway toward the west wing. Arwen stood frozen, watching him go, her cheek still tingling where he’d touched her.

He knew. He was already suspicious.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Maybe not the whole truth. Maybe not that she wasn't Isolde.

But he knew something was wrong.

Arwen turned and walked quickly to her room, her hands shaking so badly she could barely turn the door handle.

Inside, she leaned against the door and closed her eyes.

One day down.