Chapter 15

Riley’s POV

I sat by the window of Fiorenza, one of those quiet luxury places tucked near the Upper East Side — dim lighting, velvet chairs, the kind of place you booked two weeks in advance unless your last name opened doors.

Luckily, mine did.

I was early, which almost never happened, but this felt different. I hadn’t even told Harper yet — I wanted to wait until after the dinner. After I confirmed what I already knew:

That he was smart. And funny. And weirdly down to earth, despite being Ethan freaking Reynolds.

That maybe — just maybe — this whole arranged marriage thing wouldn’t be such a disaster after all.

I checked my phone again. No messages. No missed calls.

I didn’t even know why I was nervous. We'd only met once. A brief conversation outside my office, a strange spark I hadn’t expected, and then I’d done the unthinkable.

I had called him.

I had asked to meet.

And he’d said yes.

I smiled, brushing my fingers over the rim of my wine glass. “Relax” I whispered to myself. “He already likes you. He said yes.”

The host approached. “Miss Bennett?”

I looked up, heart leaping. “Yes?”

“Your guest has arrived.”

Showtime.

I smoothed my dress, checked my lipstick with a quick flick of my phone screen, and sat a little straighter. My pulse picked up as the footsteps neared. I didn’t look. I wanted it to feel cinematic. Romantic. I wanted that moment where I glanced up, and he was already smiling—

“Miss Bennett?”

I blinked.

The man standing in front of me- tall, sharp suit, controlled presence. My eyes instinctively drifted over him.

Not bad-looking, but….

not Ethan.

He was handsome, sure. Intense. Dark haired with an expensive suit and sharp cheekbones that made him look carved from stone. But he wasn’t the man I’d spoken to outside my office.

Not even close.

I tilted my head, polite confusion creasing my brows. “Yes?”

He looked me over once, slowly. His eyes narrowed, not in a rude way — more like a man trying to solve a puzzle in real time.

Then he said it.

“You’re not Riley.”

I stared.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not the woman I had dinner with.” His tone was low, unreadable, but I heard the suspicion underneath.

My back straightened. “I assure you, I am. Riley Bennett. I own the name, the birth certificate, and the rights to complain about it.”

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even blink.

Instead, he leaned in slightly, like proximity would trigger recognition. “No. You’re not the woman from the blind date.”

I tilted my head, trying not to show my offense. “What blind date?”

“The one I had. At Le Maison. Last week.” His voice grew tighter. “With Riley Bennett.”

I froze.

That… couldn’t be right.

Because the only person who went to Le Maison with Ethan Reynolds last week… was Harper.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. My brain scrambled.

He studied me harder now. “I remember the woman I spoke to. She had red lipstick. Black dress. Asked if I thought about sex all day.”

My stomach flipped.

Because I knew exactly who had said those words.

Harper.

He couldn’t be—

“Wait,” I said slowly. “You’re… Ethan?”

Something in his expression shifted. “You didn’t know?”

Oh my God.

Oh my God.

“Then who’s the man I met?”, I asked

“Am I supposed to guess” came the reply

My heart thudded. “The man I met outside my office. Tall. Sandy-brown hair. Charming but kind of awkward?”

He flashed me a confused look

“The man I had dinner with”, I tried harder, maybe this will all just be a little misunderstanding

“If you had dinner with him, then that’d be my assistant,” he said flatly.

Everything hit me at once.

I had flirted with the wrong man.

I had invited the wrong man to dinner.

And now I was sitting across from the real Ethan Reynolds.

And he was not amused.

“I… I think there’s been a mistake,” I said weakly.

“No kidding.”

I shut my mouth, guilt gnawing through my stomach lining. He didn’t even look angry — just… done. Like this was the final straw in a very long, very stupid week.

“You still haven’t explained why you didn’t recognize me,” he said giving me a pointed look.

“What?”

“If we’d met before, if you were the woman from Le Maison, you would’ve known who I was the second you saw me.”

Panic prickled at my spine.

“I was… distracted, and it was at night, I must have gotten the faces mixed up.”

“Uh-huh.”

He didn’t believe me. And honestly? I couldn’t blame him, what was I even doing right now!

He leaned forward slightly, voice low. “So who did I have dinner with?”

I hesitated.

And that tiny pause was all he needed.

His gaze sharpened.

“Hmm…It wasn’t you,” he murmured. 

I sucked in a breath. “I—”

“Who?” he asked, cutting in sharply. “Because it definitely wasn’t you.”

My mind raced. My instincts screamed to lie, To twist, To escape.

I scrambled for anything, any kind of salvageable excuse, and in a moment of pure, gut-wrenching stupidity, I muttered—

“My friend…”

I regretted it instantly. and of course he caught it

His gaze snapped back to me.

“Your friend?” he echoed, voice dangerously quiet.

Now I know why harper says he's scary

I shook my head. “No. I didn’t mean—”

But it was too late.

He leaned back slowly in his chair, eyes never leaving mine.

“Interesting.”

I swallowed hard. “Ethan—”

“Tell me,” he said, cool and measured. “If you didn’t go on the blind date… who did?”

I couldn’t breathe.

“I—”

“Your friend,” Ethan cut in, voice cold. “The one who pretended to be you.”

I froze.

“I didn’t—”

He leaned back, slow, calculating, eyes dark as sin.

“Tell me something, Riley,” he said quietly. “If I went on a date with a stranger pretending to be my fiancée…”

His jaw flexed.

“Shouldn’t I at least know her name?”

My throat dried up. My brain screamed to run. To lie. To beg.

But before I could speak—

“I think it’s time I met your friend.”