Chapter 43 - Little Revelations 

The restaurant exuded an air of understated elegance, its tranquil atmosphere a welcome contrast to the chaos of the city. Instead of harsh lighting, soft, flickering candles bathed their secluded table in a golden glow. 

Placed away from prying eyes, the setting offered them privacy. It was perfect for a conversation neither of them wanted to have. Or at least , Ayra didn't want to have.

Ayra picked at her appetizer - it was a delicate arrangement of smoked salmon on crisp bread - while Lucian sipped his wine. Their initial conversation was light, almost trivial, revolving around the restaurant's decor and the quality of the food. 

But beneath the pleasantries, Ayra could feel the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her.

“So,” Lucian said, breaking the silence that had settled over their initial small talk. His tone was calm, his words deliberate and plodding. “We need to discuss the matter of our marriage.”

Ayra stiffened slightly, her fork halting midway to her mouth, though she fought not to let it show. The word marriage hung heavily in the air, an unwelcome guest at what might have been an otherwise pleasant dinner.

She placed it back down, her appetite evaporating. “Do we?”

Lucian tilted his head slightly. “Yes, we do. I know you’ve been avoiding the topic, but it’s time we faced it head-on.”

Ayra sighed, crossing her arms. 

“I thought we were supposed to be enjoying the meal,” she said dryly. “Why bring this up now?”

Lucian leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering. “Because it’s necessary. The sooner we align our expectations, the smoother things will go.”

Ayra frowned, the faint bitterness in her chest bubbling to the surface. “Necessary for who? Certainly not for me.”

Lucian raised an eyebrow, his demeanor unshaken. “For both of us, Ayra. You know as well as I do that this is bigger than personal preference."

“For you, perhaps, but not for me.”  

“You think this is only about me?” Lucian’s voice remained calm, but there was an edge to it now. “Your family is as much a part of this as mine. Do you think Ferdinand or Lisbeth would be pleased if you backed out now?”

Ayra flinched at the mention of her father and sister. Their recent interactions had left her feeling more isolated than ever. 

“Well, what does it matter to me?” Ayra asked with feigned nonchalance. "I don't want it." 

Yes, she was being difficult just for the heck of it but she was also fishing around to see if she could get something for HER out of this because so far, it was just a losing deal. 

Lucian leaned forward, his gaze intense. “And what is it that you want, Ayra? To run away again? To keep fighting a battle you can’t win?”

“I want my freedom. I don’t want to be dragged into something I didn’t choose.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “You think I had a choice? You think I woke up one day and decided, ‘Yes, let’s force a marriage with Ayra Russo’? This isn’t my ideal scenario either.”

Well, it wasn't IDEAL, but it was his best bet to get her without much hassle. Not to mention the fact that it seemed her aunt was after her for some inane reason. She needed his protection.

And he needed Isa. 

So yes, while he had not woken up one day and thought: 'Let's force a marriage with Ayra Russo,' he HAD thought; 'Let's force a marriage with Isa Bernald.'

But it seemed his admission caught Ayra off guard and she stared at him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity.

“Then why go through with it?” she asked, her voice suddenly softer. 

"Well," Lucian mused. "There are reasons."

The distant strains of classical music floated on, but Ayra couldn’t care less. Her eyes stayed locked on Lucian.

“Are you finally going to tell me why this marriage is happening, or should I just keep guessing?” she asked, her tone exasperated.

He took a deliberate sip of his wine and set the glass down with an almost infuriating slowness. “You deserve to know some of it.”

Ayra folded her arms and leaned back. “Some of it? Try all of it.”

She bet he wouldn't lay down all of it though. 

Lucian gave her a measured look, then finally started. “This marriage is, essentially, a business move. Officially, it ties your family’s interests to mine. Unofficially, it’s more intricate than that.”

Ayra had guessed as much. 

“Go on.”

Lucian topped up his glass of wine and dipped a finger into it, swirling the liquid. 

“Your father holds connections to a market I’ve been trying to penetrate for years. His network in the Eastern Federation is unparalleled, and without those connections, any attempts I make would be entangled in bureaucratic red tape and protectionist policies. And I need those connections.”

Ayra raised a brow. “So, you’re using my father to get access?”

“Obviously. But there’s more.” He leaned back, watching Ayra with a tepid gaze. “Once I gain entry to that market, there are regulations in place that would restrict my operations. Tax codes, trade quotas, licensing barriers. The works. Your father’s influence extends to bypassing those hurdles. With his cooperation, I can establish a foothold without bleeding resources that could be spent elsewhere.”

Ayra stared at him, processing his words. She had expected as much but it still stung a bit hearing it from his mouth. 

“And what does my father get out of this?” She asked. 

Lucian cocked his head, a small smirk gracing his lips. “Protection.”

“Protection?”

“He’s been shouldering a hefty debt for months now,” Lucian explained. “His ventures in the Far Southern minerals market have been a financial sinkhole with no profit and creditors have come calling.”

Ayra’s stomach twisted. She hadn’t known about the depth of her father’s financial troubles, but it explained his recent desperation. “So, you’re swooping in to save him? Out of the goodness of your heart?”

Lucian smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Hardly. The mineral market your father’s been struggling in is ripe for consolidation. I take on his debt, secure the contracts he couldn’t manage, and gain control of a lucrative sector in the process. It’s a win-win.”