Chapter 3

Ryan Carrington sat in his chair in the private suite of The Grand Orchid, an exclusive fine-dining restaurant with gold-plated chandeliers and dark wood paneling that exuded wealth and power. The air smelled of wine and the soft melodies of a live pianist played in the background.

Dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, Ryan looked like a fallen angel—devilish, untouchable, and dangerous. His jet-black hair fell over his forehead in an effortlessly messy way, but it only added to his charm, giving him a lethal mix of refined elegance and raw masculinity. His sharp jawline tensed as he tapped his fingers on the table impatiently.

He hated late people.

And Giselle, his supposed fiancée, was an hour late.

Not that he cared much for her personally. They had been betrothed since childhood because of their families’ joint business interests, but there was no real relationship between them. Now, with his upcoming promotion to CEO, his grandfather was forcing the marriage through.

Ryan had no interest in love. His only focus was securing his position.

If Alex Montgomery—his stepfather—thought he and his son Stefan could take what was rightfully his, they were in for a rude awakening. Alex had been his father’s best friend, but after his father’s death, he married Ryan’s mother suspiciously fast. Ryan never forgave either of them. He was convinced Alex had a hand in his father’s death.

Checking his watch, Ryan exhaled sharply.

“She must be with her lover,” he muttered under his breath.

Rumors swirled that Giselle had been secretly dating someone for years. Ryan didn’t care. But if she thought she could waste his time, she could kiss her family’s shares goodbye.

The doors to the suite finally opened, and Giselle strutted in, dressed in a figure-hugging designer gown that emphasized every curve. She gave him a sweet, lazy smile as if she hadn’t just wasted an hour of his life.

“You’re here early,” she mused.

Ryan leaned back, his dark eyes glinting dangerously. “You’re an hour late.”

Giselle pouted. “An hour? Oh, Ryan, don’t tell me you were sitting here like a good little husband-to-be.”

Ryan smirked, danger flashing in his eyes. “Then I guess you don’t need the shares you stand to gain?”

Her smile vanished instantly.

“You’re no fun,” she grumbled, taking the seat opposite him.

Ryan slid a contract across the table. “Let’s get straight to business. Since you wasted my time, I’ll keep this short.”

She picked up the contract, skimming through it, and then chuckled. “You know, there’s this rumor that you don’t like women. Is that why you’re rushing the wedding?”

Ryan’s expression remained unreadable. “Who I like is none of your concern.”

She smirked. “Good. Because I have someone I love, and I plan to keep seeing him after we’re married.”

“That’s your problem,” Ryan replied coldly. “You could sleep with a hundred men—I don’t care. Just don’t get caught.”

Her brows lifted. “I also don’t want a physical relationship with you.”

Ryan’s gaze slowly traveled down her body before locking onto her eyes. His lips curved into a smirk. “Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”

She scoffed but signed the contract without hesitation. “You know, I like how we both know what we want. Who knows? We might actually become friends.”

Ryan didn’t reply. Instead, he took the contract from her and stood up.

“The man you love,” he asked casually, “does he know you’re getting married?”

Giselle shrugged. “He’ll find out soon enough.”

Ryan didn’t care for the drama that would follow. He just wanted to get this over with. Without another word, he walked out of the restaurant.

**************

After hours of meetings and site inspections, Ryan stopped by a high-end bar to meet some business associates. As he was about to leave, a familiar figure staggered out of the lounge area.

Ryan narrowed his eyes.

Giselle?

What the hell was she doing here, and where were her security guards?

Before he could call out to her, she tripped on her heels, and Ryan moved swiftly, catching her before she hit the ground.

She was completely wasted.

"Hey, wake up," he said, shaking her lightly by the shoulders.

Her heavily lidded eyes fluttered open, trying to focus. "Do you… do you know me?" she slurred.

Ryan frowned. "Not really.”

She giggled, then pouted. "Why do you care?"

Ryan let out a sigh, removing his hands from her waist. "You're right. I don’t."

She staggered, then suddenly plopped onto the floor, clutching her purse like a lifeline.

Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Get up. You’re making a scene."

She looked up at him through glassy eyes. "Are you… flirting with me?"

Ryan exhaled sharply. "What?"

"You are! Oh my gosh," she gasped, dramatically placing a hand over her chest.

Ryan clenched his jaw. "Fine. Sleep on the damn street for all I care." He turned to leave.

"You’re leaving?" Her voice wavered, and—before he could take another step—she burst into tears

Ryan froze. What the hell?

He exhaled sharply. “Did your boyfriend break your heart?” he asked mockingly.

She wiped her eyes, suddenly looking miserable. “Love is a luxury for someone like me,” she whispered. “It’s already hard enough making a living.”

Ryan frowned. “Giselle, what nonsense are you spouting?”

But she wasn’t listening anymore. She had started singing—loudly.

“For God’s sake, shut up,” Ryan snapped.

She giggled and made a motion like she was zipping her lips.

Ryan ran a hand through his hair. He was going to regret this. He turned to Sam, who had just pulled up.

“Is the car ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

Ryan bent down and lifted her into his arms.

She gasped dramatically. “Oh, you’re strong.”

“Shut up.”

She wiggled slightly. “You smell so nice.”

Ryan clenched his jaw. “You smell like a pub.”

She let out a dreamy sigh and snuggled against his chest.

He dumped her into the backseat, sliding in beside her.

“Where to, sir?” Sam asked.

“The hotel.”

Halfway through the ride, she suddenly mumbled, “I’m not Giselle.”

Ryan scoffed. “Sure, and I’m Santa Claus.”

“No, really,” she said, looking at him with big, glassy eyes. “I’m not.”

“Right,” he said dryly. “Whatever you say, Giselle.”

She pouted. “I’m serious.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Go to sleep.”

When they arrived at the hotel, Ryan carried her up to the suite. The moment he set her down on the bed, she tugged at her dress.

“It’s tight,” she whined.

Ryan turned away. “Not my problem.”

“Help me,” she pouted.

He sighed, yanking open the closet and tossing a shirt in her direction. “Wear this.”

He turned around again, giving her privacy. When he finally glanced back, she was curled up on the bed, wearing his shirt.

Ryan shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

Then he left.

*********

The next morning………

Irene groaned, her head pounding.

She blinked at her unfamiliar surroundings, confusion washing over her.

A hotel suite?

Her gaze dropped to herself.

She was wearing… a man’s shirt?

Her eyes widened.

What the hell happened last night?