n Cole's calm, unreadable face, her pulse jumped. Not from attraction at least that's what she told herself but from sheer, infuriating disbelief. He'd talked to her like she was a che

nded her of the man who had once sold property during a market crash just to keep his promise to a friend. Stubborn. Principled. Exhausting. "Fine," she said at last. "One dinner. Then I'm done." "Agreed," he said. Her mother smiled, relieved. "You'll wear the blue dress I bought last month." "I'll wear whatever makes me look least available," Grace muttered, storming out. The drive home blurred past in a haze of anger and coffee fumes. By the time she reached her apartment, she'd talked herself in and out of attending a dozen times. She flopped onto the couch, texting Maya: Dinner with the Cole clan tonight. Send prayers and bail money. Maya replied instantly: You got this. Just remember you're the prize, not the product. Grace smiled despite herself. That was exactly the pep talk she needed. She looked at her reflection in the mirror a few hours later hair swept up, eyes fierce above a simple black dress. Understated. Controlled. Ready for battle. "Okay," she told the mirror. "You're not there to impress him. You're there to end this." Her reflection didn't answer, but the tiny flutter in her stomach did and she hated that it felt like excitement. The restaurant gleamed like a crystal box soft jazz, low golden lighting, waiters gliding by as if on cue. Grace's heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as she followed the maître d' toward the private dining room. Her heart was doing the most ridiculous thing: pounding. Not because she was nervous, she told herself just annoyed. Furious, even. Then she saw him. Adrian Cole. Perfect posture. Perfect suit. Perfectly calm eyes that had no business being that blue. He stood as she entered, polite, unreadable except for the faint, almost mocking curve of his mouth. "Miss Lawson," he said, voice smooth as midnight coffee. "You came." "Don't sound so surprised," she shot back, sliding into her seat across from him. "I keep my promises, even bad ones." His smile deepened a fraction. "Good. I respect follow-through." "Then you'll love me after tonight," she said sweetly, "because I'm about to follow through on ending this madness." Her parents exchanged tense smiles with his. The air hummed with restrained politeness two powerful families pretending this wasn't a battlefield. Dinner began like a performance. His mother complimented Grace's dress. Her father toasted to new beginnings. Adrian listened, occasionally replying in that smooth, collected way that made everyone else feel slightly less composed. Grace hated it. And worse she noticed everything about him. The way his fingers brushed the rim of his wine glass. The quiet confidence when he spoke. The flash of amusement in his eyes every time she challenged him. Stop it, she told herself. He's the enemy. "Grace," Adrian's mother said warmly, "Adrian mentioned you're a communications consultant. That's impressive for someone your age." Grace smiled thinly. "Yes. I like helping people say what they actually mean." Adrian's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Do you?" "Yes. You should try it sometime." His mouth twitched definitely trying not to laugh. "Noted." The main course arrived. Grace stabbed her salmon like it had personally offended her. "So," Adrian said, leaning back, "you've made it very clear this arrangement isn't you