Chapter Two
The morning sun spilled across the curtains, streaks of gold dancing against the pale cream walls of Diane's bedroom. She stirred lazily, reluctant to leave the cocoon of warmth her duvet offered. Last night had been long, filled with her mother's stern warnings, her father's impatient tone, and endless reminders that her marriage to Jeffery Black was not up for debate. No matter how she had protested, no matter how many times she had said no, her parents had looked at her with a mixture of pity and determination that drained her resolve.
Rolling over, she reached for her phone on the bedside table. Several notifications blinked on the screen. As expected, Chelsea's name lit up most of them. Diane smiled faintly as she opened the messages.
'Girl, wake up. You're getting married to a walking scandal. I demand every juicy detail.
Seriously though, are you okay?
You better not cry yourself into looking like a raccoon. If he's half as handsome as the tabloids say, maybe this isn't the worst thing…'
Diane let out a laugh despite herself, clutching the phone to her chest. Chelsea had always known how to break through her moods. Still, she couldn't share her real thoughts in a string of texts. She wasn't ready to admit that a small, traitorous part of her had Googled Jeffery's pictures last night. And worse, she had stared longer than necessary.
Shaking the thought away, she slipped into her robe and shuffled toward the vanity. Her reflection stared back at her: soft green, somewhat emerald eyes, with lingering traces of fatigue, full lips pressed into a stubborn line.
Yet, in the pit of her stomach, something stirred—a mixture of dread and curiosity.
The shrill ring of the doorbell broke her thoughts. Moments later, Chelsea's voice echoed from downstairs, calling out her name. Diane rushed down, finding her best friend already sprawled on the living room couch, a paper bag of pastries in hand.
"You look like someone who fought a bear and lost," Chelsea announced with a grin, tossing Diane a chocolate croissant.
"Thanks," Diane muttered, sinking beside her. "That's exactly what I needed this morning, insults with breakfast."
"Not insults. Encouragement." Chelsea smirked, nudging her shoulder. "Now, tell me. Did you dream about your fiancé last night? Maybe the mysterious Jeffery Black swept you off your feet in your sleep?"
Diane rolled her eyes. "If by sweeping off my feet you mean tossing me into a pit, then yes, maybe."
"Come on, Di." Chelsea leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "The guy is rich, hot, and reckless. That combination is dangerous, but… you like dangerous men sometimes."
"I do not!"
Chelsea arched a brow. "Remember Tyler? The motorcycle guy who dropped out of college because he thought exams were an insult to his creativity?"
Diane groaned, covering her face with her hands. "That was one mistake! One!"
They both burst into laughter, and for a moment, the heaviness in Diane's chest lifted. She treasured moments like this, where she could forget that her life was being planned without her consent.
But the bubble soon burst when her father walked in, briefcase in hand, his gaze stern as it landed on Diane.
"Diane," he said firmly. "You'll be meeting Jeffery for lunch today. His family has already made arrangements."
The croissant in Diane's hand suddenly felt tasteless. She wanted to protest, but one look at her father's face told her it would be pointless. Her mother followed close behind, adjusting her pearl necklace, eyes filled with cautious sympathy.
Chelsea squeezed Diane's hand discreetly. "You'll be fine," she whispered. "Worst case, you hate him, and we find a way out of this mess together."
Diane forced a smile, though her stomach twisted in knots. "Yeah. Worst case."
But deep inside, she knew there was no easy escape. Today, she would meet the man who had a reputation for breaking rules and hearts alike. And somehow, she had to guard herself against becoming his next casualty.