Chapter 45 Grandmother's Health, Not Good
Selena's POV
I didn't want to stay a second longer. The moment my hand touched the car door handle, he spoke.
"We need to talk."
His voice was so calm, without a ripple, as if he wasn't the same jerk who'd just deleted my contact and pissed me off.
"We have nothing to talk about." I pulled the car door open without looking back, one foot already stepping out. "Your act is over, mine is too. From now on, we go our separate ways."
"Our partnership has just begun." He grabbed my wrist.
Here we go again.
That damn, non-negotiable grip again.
I whipped around, trying to shake off his hand, only to meet those bottomless eyes of his.
"Let go." I forced the words through clenched teeth.
"After we eat, I'll let go." He completely ignored my anger, his other hand pointing toward the hotel's top Michelin-starred restaurant. "From this morning until now, you've only had one croissant. I don't want my partner passing out from low blood sugar."
That bullshit "partner" theory again.
I almost laughed from sheer frustration.
"Whether I eat or not, how is that any of your business? Royce, don't push it!"
"It is! Your health directly affects the smooth progress of our families' engagement, and it affects the Sterling family's image. So yes, it's directly my business."
Crazy.
He was a complete control freak.
I was too tired to argue with him anymore, because I knew that reasoning with this man was like reasoning with a rock.
He pulled me out of the car. The driver was already standing respectfully to the side, eyes down, as if he'd seen nothing.
He dragged me by the wrist, heading straight for the restaurant.
Being dragged along by him, I felt like a captured criminal, with every glance from around us watching like it was some kind of show.
A huge wave of humiliation washed over me.
I struggled a bit, but he only gripped tighter.
"Don't make me carry you in there, Selena." He warned in a low voice near my ear.
My whole body stiffened.
I knew he meant it.
I stopped struggling and let him pull me into the restaurant.
Then I froze.
The entire restaurant was empty.
Under the massive crystal chandelier, tables covered with white tablecloths were arranged neatly, silver utensils gleaming under the lights.
No customers, no music, just the restaurant manager in a tailcoat with a few waiters, standing respectfully at the entrance.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Sterling." The manager bowed to him, then his gaze fell on me—or more precisely, on my wrist that Royce was gripping.
I felt my face burning.
"Bring out your best." Royce released my wrist and, like a king, casually gave the order, then pulled out a chair, gesturing for me to sit.
I stood there without moving, just staring at him coldly.
"You bought out the whole place again? What, does Mr. Sterling have so much money he doesn't know where to spend it, so he likes to show off how special he is this way?"
"I don't like being disturbed when discussing business." He sat down, methodically unfolding his napkin and placing it on his lap. "Buying out the venue is the most efficient approach."
I took a deep breath, pulled out the chair across from him, and sat down.
Fine.
If he wanted to talk, I'd talk with him.
I wanted to see what other tricks he had up his sleeve.
Soon, dishes as exquisite as works of art were brought out.
Lobster, caviar, premium Kobe beef.
Every dish was ridiculously expensive.
He picked up his knife and fork and began elegantly cutting the beef on his plate, as if he weren't in a restaurant but in his office handling paperwork.
I didn't move.
I just watched him, watched that handsome but infuriating face.
"Why aren't you eating?" He looked up at me. "Not to your taste? Or are you waiting for me to feed you?"
"I'm not in the mood." I answered coldly.
"That's not good for your health." He cut a small piece of beef, put it in his mouth, and chewed carefully. "You need to maintain peak condition."
"For what? To better cooperate with you and play the role of 'Sterling's fiancée'?" I couldn't hold it in anymore and let all my anger out.
He put down his knife and fork and wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin.
"I never act." He looked at me, his expression turning serious. "Selena, my grandmother really likes you."
"She doesn't like me." I corrected him. "She likes that design I drew. She likes an 'opponent' who dared to contradict you to your face and gave her a good show."
"That doesn't matter. What matters is she approved of you. She hasn't been this interested in anything—or anyone—in years."
I didn't want to hear him play the family card.
"So what? What are you trying to say? That I should willingly jump into this marriage trap you've dug just because of an old lady I've met once?"
"My grandmother's health isn't very good."
He suddenly said something seemingly unrelated.
His voice was flat, like he was describing the weather.
"She has a rare neurodegenerative disease. Most of the time, her mental state is poor, and her memory is declining. Moments like today when she's lucid and has the 'will' to engage with people are becoming fewer and fewer."
My heart felt like something had struck it, not too hard, not too soft.
Margaret Sterling.
That old lady with sharp eyes, clear thinking, who controlled everything like a queen, was actually...
I didn't know how to react.
"Why are you telling me this?" I looked at him, trying to find any trace of lying on his face. "Trying to make me pity her so I'll obey you?"
"No, I'm just stating a fact. So you understand how precious the 'will' you saw today is."
"That brooch you named 'Margaret's Will,'" he looked at me, saying each word deliberately, "I want you to make it as soon as possible. Use the best materials, the best craftsmen. Money is no object."
I looked at him.
He wasn't joking.
He really wanted to preserve that "will" for his grandmother.
This man, this cold, arrogant, insufferably controlling man, beneath that hard shell of his, actually had... something he cared about?