Chapter 3 The terms

Le Jardin looked like the kind of place where even the air cost money.

Soft jazz played under warm lighting, waiters glided instead of walked, and the menu didn't list prices - a sure sign it was out of Leah's budget and possibly her comfort zone.

She hesitated at the entrance, adjusting the single nice dress she owned - a pale blue wrap dress that said I'm trying more than I belong here.

And then she saw him.

Adrian Blake, already seated, suit jacket draped neatly over the back of his chair, tie loosened just enough to look effortlessly elegant. He glanced at his watch before spotting her, and the faintest flicker of relief crossed his face.

"Leah," he said, standing. "You came."

"Against my better judgment," she muttered, sitting across from him.

He smiled faintly, signaling the waiter. "Still, I'm glad you did."

---

The waiter poured water, disappeared, and left them in a bubble of awkward silence.

"So," Leah said finally, "you wanted to talk about... terms?"

Adrian nodded, pulling a small folder from his briefcase.

Of course he had a folder.

"Just a few guidelines," he said. "This arrangement only needs to last six weeks. My grandmother's visit begins next week and ends after the charity gala mid-month. Once she leaves, we can quietly file for annulment."

"Six weeks," Leah repeated. "Like a really bad summer job."

"Something like that," Adrian said, ignoring her sarcasm. "In return, I'll provide a monthly stipend for your time - plus any expenses related to maintaining the illusion."

Leah blinked. "Expenses?"

"Clothing, transportation, social events. You'll be expected to attend dinners, possibly the gala. Nothing invasive. Strictly appearances."

She leaned back, crossing her arms. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

Adrian arched an eyebrow. "Arranged fake marriages? Not recently."

"Recently?" she echoed.

He almost smiled. "That was a joke."

"Was it?"

For a moment, his expression softened. "You really don't trust me, do you?"

"Would you?" she shot back. "One day I'm a nurse trying to survive a double shift, the next I'm accidentally married to a walking Armani ad who wants to rent me like a prop."

He looked at her steadily. "I'm offering a solution. Not exploitation."

Something in his tone - quiet, restrained - made her pause. Beneath all that polish, there was a man trying very hard not to lose control of something.

Leah exhaled slowly. "All right. Say I agree. What are the rules?"

He opened the folder again, flipping to a neat list typed on his firm's letterhead.

"Rule one," he began, "we maintain public appearances as a married couple. Family dinners, social events, photographs if necessary."

"Photographs?" Leah's eyes widened. "Like... couple photos?"

"Discreet ones," he said, lips twitching. "My grandmother is fond of scrapbooks."

"Of course she is," Leah muttered. "Go on."

"Rule two," he continued, "no interference in each other's personal lives. This arrangement is business. You can continue your work as usual. I'll make sure my schedule doesn't interfere."

"Generous of you," she said dryly.

He ignored the jab. "Rule three - discretion. The fewer people who know, the better. My assistant will handle logistics, but even he won't know the details."

"And rule four?" she asked.

He hesitated, then looked up. "Rule four - we have to be convincing."

Leah frowned. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," he said slowly, "my grandmother is observant. She'll notice distance. We'll need to act... familiar."

"Familiar," she repeated. "Like... holding hands?"

"Possibly."

"Smiling in public?"

"Yes."

"Kissing?"

His expression didn't change. "If absolutely necessary."

Leah nearly choked on her water. "You're out of your mind."

"I said if necessary," he replied calmly. "Purely for authenticity."

She stared at him, torn between laughing and throwing her glass at his head. "This is absurd."

"Perhaps," he said, leaning back, "but you haven't said no."

Leah bit her lip. He was right. She hadn't. Because deep down, something about this ridiculous proposal called to the part of her that needed a break - from chaos, from heartbreak, from always cleaning up other people's messes.

Adrian studied her quietly. "I'll have the contract drawn up. You can take a few days to think it over."

She stood, grabbing her bag. "Don't bother."

His brow lifted. "You're refusing?"

She gave him a steady look. "I'm accepting. Six weeks. No funny business."

His mouth curved slightly. "Understood."

"Good," she said, turning to leave.

But as she walked away, Adrian's voice followed, low and amused.

"Mrs. Blake, you might want to practice calling me by my first name. It sells the illusion."

Leah didn't turn around. "Don't push your luck, Adrian."

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