Chapter 11
Lena's POV
"Emily." I couldn't help but laugh, the first real laugh all day. "Are you insane?"
"I'm serious!" She put on a wounded tone. "Think about it. Daniel's interested in you, his family background matches yours, and most importantly, he knows how to respect women. Unlike certain people—" She paused deliberately. "I mean, if you're completely disillusioned with men, why not give Daniel a chance? You're both victims of contract marriages. Wasn't he being forced into arranged dates by his family last year too? Maybe you could understand each other, work out a fairer agreement. Get the benefits of marriage—tax advantages, social status, family approval—without actually being trapped by a man—"
"Emily." I shook my head even though she couldn't see. "Daniel's a good guy, but I'm not going to—"
"I know, I know." She sighed. "I just want you to know you have options. You're not stuck between the Grant family and Rowan. There are plenty of people out there who appreciate you, respect you, who won't treat you like a—"
"Tool." I finished quietly.
"Right." Emily's voice softened. "You deserve better, Lena. Seriously though, whatever you decide, I'm here. If you really want to find someone for a fake marriage to escape family pressure, I can help screen candidates. If you want to disappear for three months, I can arrange that too. But if you just need someone to be there—"
"I know." My voice caught slightly, but I pushed it down. "Thank you, Em."
"Don't thank me. Friends are for—"
The bedroom door suddenly opened.
I turned to see Rowan standing in the doorway, one hand still on the handle. He wore dark gray workout clothes, clearly just back from his morning workout, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. His expression was cold, eyes moving between me and the phone.
How much had he heard?
"I'll call you back." I said quickly into the phone.
"Lena? What's happening—"
I hung up, set the phone on the bed, and looked up at Rowan.
"Is there something you need?" I kept my voice steady.
He walked into the bedroom and closed the door. The motion was gentle, but the click echoed loud in the quiet space.
"Your friend?" He asked, his tone overly flat.
"Emily." No need to hide it. "She was checking on me."
"Oh." His mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. He walked to the window, turning his back to me. "Sounds like you two had a nice chat. Daniel Whitmore? Sounds like a promising... candidate."
My breath hitched.
He'd heard. He'd heard Emily's joke about Daniel.
"That was just—"
"A joke?" Rowan turned around, his voice carrying an edge. "Or your next... arrangement?"
I felt my chest tighten. His tone, his expression, carried something I couldn't quite name. Anger? Jealousy? Or simple sarcasm?
"I don't need to explain my private conversations to you." I stood, meeting his gaze. "Our contract expires in three weeks. After that, who I talk to, who I'm with—none of your business."
His jaw tightened, his Adam's apple bobbing. Several seconds of silence, only the sound of lake water lapping the shore outside.
"You're right." He finally said, his voice low. "None of my business. Just didn't expect you to line up the next... transaction so quickly. After all, Whitmore confessed to you last year, didn't he? You turned him down because our contract hadn't expired yet. Now the timing's perfect."
Transaction.
The word was a knife, hitting something soft and vulnerable with precision. Because he was right, wasn't he? From the beginning, we'd been a transaction. From the moment he accepted my proposal and signed that agreement, we'd been nothing but transaction partners to each other.
"If there's nothing else," I said calmly, "I need to get ready for the office. The Reynolds Industries case needs to start immediately. As your attorney, I'll ensure the due diligence, compliance review, and contract drafting all meet the highest standards."
"Of course." He stared at me, that look almost making me want to turn away. "Professional. That's what you do best, isn't it? Lena Grant, always perfect, always rational, always able to handle everything flawlessly."
He walked toward the door, pausing with his hand on the handle.
"Congratulations," he said without turning around. "Found a more suitable candidate. Hope Whitmore can give you what you want this time. At least he seems more... gentle and considerate than me."
Then he walked out, the door slamming shut behind him.
I stood there, staring at that door, feeling like something had struck my chest hard.
My phone buzzed again. Emily.
[Emily: You okay? Why'd you hang up so suddenly?]
I looked at those words, finger hovering over the screen, finally typing out a brief reply:
[I'm fine. Talk later.]
---
Rowan's POV
I stood in the hallway outside the bedroom, hand still gripping the doorframe, breathing harder than I should have been.
Daniel Whitmore.
The name echoed in my head like a taunt. I'd only caught fragments of the conversation through the door—something about "matching family backgrounds," "respecting women," "fairer agreement"—but it was enough. More than enough.
She was already lining up the next arrangement. The contract wasn't even terminated yet, and she was shopping for a replacement.
I pushed off the doorframe and headed downstairs, jaw clenched. The rational part of my brain knew I had no right to be angry. Our agreement expired in three weeks. After that, she could marry whoever the hell she wanted—Daniel Whitmore, some other suitable candidate from her circle, a goddamn stranger off the street.
But rationality had nothing to do with the sharp, ugly feeling twisting in my chest.
You're replaceable, a voice whispered. You were always just a placeholder. A transaction. She said it herself.
I grabbed my phone from the kitchen counter and scrolled through messages without seeing them, trying to shake the feeling. Failed. The image of Lena on the phone, voice so calm and matter-of-fact as she discussed moving on, kept replaying.
My phone buzzed. Incoming call: Nora Kane.
I stared at the screen for a moment before answering. "Nora."