The backseat of the onyx-black Bentley Mulsanne was quiet, the engine humming softly as city lights passed by the tinted windows.
The interior was immaculate — smooth leather and a subtle, clean scent of cedar that spoke of power, restraint, and wealth that did not need to announce itself.
Julian sat alone, one leg crossed over the other, a tablet resting in his hand.
He only traveled like this when he was heading to his parents’ house or to an important event, and even then rarely — his father usually handled the major appearances.
His inbox refreshed. One new ssage.
From: Lily
Subject: Guest of Interest
He opened it.
Lyvana Montclair.
He paused. So that’s her na. The woman had occupied his mind since he saw her last night.
His thumb hovered for a mont, then he locked the screen. The decision had already been made.
This was his woman.
He lifted his phone and dialed.
"Hello, Mr. Blackwood," his assistant’s voice rushed through the line.
"Lily," he said imdiately, "I need everything you can find on Lyvana Montclair. Background, finances, connections. I want it in my inbox within the hour."
"Yes, sir. And your father?" Lily asked.
"Focus on what I asked," he replied coolly. "Do not ask questions."
"Yes sir," Lily said at once. "You’ll have the report shortly."
The line went dead.
Julian set the phone down on the leather seat, his gaze sliding to the city outside, but he barely noticed anything.
His mind was entirely on Lyvana Montclair. She had stirred sothing in him he hadn’t felt in years. Could it be curiosity, intrigue... or perhaps obsession.
Then he smiled.
Lyvana Montclair didn’t know it yet — but she was already his to claim.
....
Lyvana opened her eyes slowly. It had been an eventful engagent party. Her head throbbed faintly, a reminder of too much champagne and too many caras.
She reached for her phone on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with notifications.
She couldn’t believe the headlines.
Lyvana Montclair Stuns in White.
From Wallflower to Showstopper.
The Vaughn Heir’s Bride-to-Be Steals the Spotlight.
Lyvana’s thumb scrolled through the notifications, a mix of excitent and unease swirling in her chest. She was still getting used to this – the attention, the labels, the expectations.
A ssage from Mark popped up.
Last night was perfect
You looked beautiful
I’ll pick you up in an hour
Lyvana’s stomach tightened. That was new. Perfect? Beautiful? That sounded like Mark, but... different. Like he was trying to be sweet.
In her past life, he had mostly ignored her until she called and he has been busy all day till they t at his family ho tonight for dinner.
She typed a reply, erased it, then typed again.
Thanks
I’ll rather call this evening
Got a few things to sort.
This was short, it would do for now.
She hit send. Now she was curious. What was Mark planning?
Just then, Mark’s call ca in.
She ignored it and placed it on the bed.
She walked to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. Stacks of docunts lay neatly inside — contracts, ownership certificates, the portfolio summaries Emily made her organize last year. Lyvana pulled out the folders with trembling fingers.
These should not have been sitting out like this. They had been stolen once.
And if her mory was right, only about a month from now, after her engagent to Mark, they would disappear. She’d torn the apartnt apart searching for them, panicking as her life unraveled. Emily had spent weeks helping her replace so of them.
And then Emily got sick.
And then she died.
A sharp ache gathered in Lyvana’s chest.
Could she stop that from happening this ti?
Could she save her?
She took out a small notebook. Slowly she began to map out a plan. Well she didn’t actually have a plan, but she had to start sowhere.
She wrote down everything she could think of: potential loopholes, key nas, dates, companies, legal angles, and back channels. Who to charm, who to watch, who to keep close.
Next ca a list of possible allies — her ex, Rex, and a few people she’d t at the engagent party.
Then her thoughts drifted to Emily’s suggestion. She didn’t yet have anyone in mind to take on that role of a temporary boyfriend.
And then — she couldn’t help it — her mind wandered to the kiss. She had never kissed a stranger before, yet sohow, she found herself thinking about him.
Then a thought struck her... what if she could find him again. She shook her head to clear it.
"No. That would be insane."
But the thought lingered, refusing to leave, teasing at the edges of her mind like a spark waiting to catch fire.
"Lyvana?"
She jumped slightly, snapping the notebook shut. Emily’s voice drifted from the doorway, light and teasing.
"Planning world domination already? Or is that your wedding to-do list?"
At that exact mont...
Ring! Ring!
Emily’s phone buzzed violently in her clothes. She groaned, digging through her pocket.
"Who calls this early?"
Lyvana hid the notebook in her drawer and crossed the room, brushing her hair out of her face. "Probably your latest networking opportunity," she said with a half-smile.
"Ha-ha. You’re hilarious." Emily shot her a mock glare before glancing at the screen.
Emily blinked. "It’s — oh crap — Mr. Dwyer."
Lyvana arched a brow. "At this hour?"
Emily groaned. "Exactly. If he’s calling this early, it ans soone ssed up... and it’s probably ."
Lyvana chuckled. "Go on, answer. Maybe he just wants to wish you a productive morning."
"Yeah, right," Emily muttered, swiping to answer. "Good morning, Mr. Dwyer."
Lyvana turned toward the bathroom, grabbed her toothbrush, and started getting ready. By the ti she stepped under the shower, Emily’s voice had already slipped into that tired, overly polite rhythm she used with her boss.
Ten minutes later, steam curled through the small room as Lyvana wiped the mirror clean. She tied her hair up and moved to the wardrobe.
Rows of new dresses stared back at her — silk, satin, bold colors, designer labels she still couldn’t believe she’d bought.
She let out a quiet groan.
"Yeah... maybe I overdid it."
Pulling one up against herself in the mirror — low neckline, tight fit, impossible to wear anywhere decent — she sighed.
"I can’t wear any of these."
"Yes, you can," Emily said from the doorway.
Lyvana turned. Emily stood there, phone in hand, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "Half the city already thinks you’re a goddess. Might as well dress like one."
Lyvana rolled her eyes. "You sound like my PR team."
Emily grinned. "I take that as a complint."
"Are we eting for lunch?" Lyvana asked, closing the wardrobe.
"Definitely."
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