Chapter 4

E L A R A

I somehow made it back to the main gallery without my legs giving up on me.

My heart was pounding so hard I thought everyone could hear it.

But wait, he said yes.

Julian Hartmann said yes.

I grabbed my champagne tray with shaking hands and tried to blend back in with the other servers, but my mind was spinning.

Three days.

I had just three days to prepare for this, to figure out what terms I wanted, to make sure I wasn't making the biggest mistake of my life.

"There you are!" The catering manager appeared at my elbow, looking annoyed.

"Where have you been? We're short on the east side." He asked.

"Sorry, someone asked for directions to the restroom," I lied.

"Well, get moving. And take these to the VIP section."

I nodded and grabbed a fresh tray, moving through the crowd like I was on autopilot mode.

My mind kept replaying the conversation with Julian.

The way he had looked at me with those ice blue eyes of his. The way he had remembered our debate from seven years ago.

"You knew who I was even then," I had asked him.

And,

He had remembered.

All this time, he had remembered.

I was spiralling in my head, making me loose focus as I nearly crashed into someone and looked up to apologize. My blood ran cold as I recognised the person.

Todd Blackwell.

Senator Blackwell's son was standing right in front of me.

"Champagne?" I managed to say, keeping my head down and praying to all the gods that he wouldn't recognize me.

"Sure," he said, taking a glass without really looking at me.

"Hey, you seen Julian Hartmann around? Supposed to discuss some business with him."

"Uhh... I... I think he's in the west gallery," I said, making my voice higher, different from my normal tone.

"Thanks." He walked away without taking a second glance at me.

I exhaled shakily and quickly made my way to the staff area. I have to get out of here before someone else recognize me.

I found a quiet corner, ditched the waiter's uniform back into my bag, and changed into my black dress.

Then I slipped out the service entrance and practically ran to my car.

Once inside It, doors locked, I let myself fall apart for just a minute. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold my phone.

I had done it. I'd actually done it.

I'd proposed marriage to Julian Hartmann, and he said yes.

Now I just had to figure out how to survive the next year married to a man who hated my family.

And how I was going to tell my father.

My phone buzzed.

A text from Mother, Where are you? You were supposed to be home an hour ago.

I typed back quickly: Sorry, dinner ran late. On my way home now.

Another buzz. This time from an unknown number: Three days. Don't forget. - JH

Julian Hartmann had my number.

Of course he did.

He probably knew everything about me.

I started my car and headed home, my mind already making lists of everything I needed to do before our meeting.

Find a lawyer, someone good, someone discreet, someone who wouldn't immediately run to my father.

Figure out what terms I wanted in the contract, living arrangements, public appearances, duration, what happens at the end of the year.

Come up with a plan for how to tell my family, or maybe not tell them until it was already done.

I have to somehow, some way, figure out how to survive being married to Julian Hartmann for an entire year without losing my mind.

Or my heart.

Because the way he'd looked at me in that viewing room, the way he'd remembered our debate after seven years...

No wonder women threw themselves at him, pictures did not do him justice, he was more handsome than how he appeared in pictures.

No.

I couldn't think like that.

This was a business arrangement.

Nothing more.

We will go our separate ways after a year.

I repeated that to myself the entire drive home.

Business arrangement.

One year.

Then freedom.

I just had to survive it first.