The Wrong Bride, The Right Aria.

Adrian dressed with unusual care that evening. He told himself it was simply respect for the occasion — a date deserved effort — but the truth was closer to nerves. This time, at least, he would be meeting the real Aria. Not Chloe.

Aria arrived at the restaurant with minutes to spare, only to discover that every space along the curb was taken. She circled the block twice before easing into a narrow gap between two cars, and it was only as she cut the engine that she felt the soft, unmistakable jolt of metal meeting metal.

"Oh, for heaven's sake."

She stepped out to inspect the damage, already composing her opening line to whoever owned the car behind her — and then stopped short. The man climbing out of the other vehicle was familiar: broad-shouldered, sharply dressed, faintly apologetic even before he'd said a word. It took her only a second to place him.

"Wait — aren't you the man from the convenience store?" she asked, delighted despite herself.

"You remembered me?" Ethan asked, surprised, as they exchanged the brief, awkward courtesies of strangers who'd just dented each other's cars.

It would be hard to forget a face like that, Aria thought, then caught herself and pushed the thought firmly aside.

"I'm good with faces," she said instead, brisk and businesslike. "Listen, I'm in a hurry — call me, and we'll sort out the damage." She pressed a business card into his hand. Please call me, she added silently, and hoped it didn't show on her face.

Ethan turned the card over. "Team Leader, Aria — Marina Group?" He looked up, something clicking into place. He'd seen this name before, on his employer's calendar. "You're that Aria?"

"Yes," she said, smiling. "Is there a problem?"

There was a problem, though neither of them knew it yet. A few feet away, Adrian had been standing quietly through the whole exchange, watching his secretary charm a woman he did not recognize as the one he was supposed to be meeting. Something about the scene didn't sit right with him, and before he could think better of it, he spoke.

"There's a very big problem, actually — Ms. Fake Aria."

Both of them turned toward his voice.

"Do you have any idea it's a crime to use someone else's name?" Adrian pressed on, certain he'd caught an impostor red-handed — never once suspecting that the impostor he'd met days ago was, in fact, the fraud, and that the woman standing in front of him now was the real thing.

"Excuse me?" Aria's composure cracked into something sharper. "Someone else's name? Who exactly do you think you are?"

She had no idea, either — that the man accusing her of theft was her own blind date.

"I went on a blind date with the real Aria a few days ago," Adrian said evenly.

Aria went very still. "...Are you saying you're Adrian?"

• • •

Once the introductions had untangled themselves — awkwardly, and with considerably less charm than either had hoped for their first real meeting — they went inside and were seated. For a long moment neither spoke.

Why does my man of destiny have to see me like this? Aria thought, and the words escaped her in a murmur before she could stop them.

"What was that?" Adrian asked.

"Nothing," she said quickly. She had no idea he'd actually heard her.

Adrian studied her for a moment, then set down his water glass with deliberate care. "Ms. Aria. Who was the woman who went on the blind date with me?"

"I don't know," Aria said, holding his gaze — exactly as she and Chloe had rehearsed. "I hired someone through an agency to stand in for me. I never even saw her face. She's a complete stranger."

"A complete stranger," Adrian repeated.

"Yes." She nodded, perhaps a touch too firmly.

Adrian folded his hands and leaned in, resting them on the table between them.

"Funny thing, then," he said, his tone almost casual, "that the bag she brought to our date looked exactly like the one you're carrying now."

"What? That's impossible." Aria's laugh came out thin. "Hers was a Chanel. This is Louis Vuitton. They're nothing alike — you clearly don't know the difference."

Adrian tilted his head slowly, unconvinced.

"Chanel, was it? I thought you said she was a complete stranger. How would you know what bag a stranger carried?" He watched her the way a man watches a hand of cards he already suspects is bluffing.

Right, Aria thought, panic flickering behind her calm expression. How would I know that?

"Our families," Adrian went on quietly, "are going to be furious when they find out what you've done. Are you prepared for that?"

"Do you really have to tell them everything?" she said, softening her voice, reaching for something closer to persuasion than truth. "Couldn't we simply say it didn't work out? That we decided not to see each other again — that the marriage wasn't meant to be — and leave it there?"

Adrian was quiet for a moment, and when he answered, there was nothing casual left in his voice.

"Before any of that," he said, "bring her here. The woman I almost married." He held Aria's gaze, unblinking. "I want to see her face."