“Relax, Mother,” Lila says, polished and deadly. “That’s what Venmo is for.”
“Lydia Beatrix.”
“It’sLila.”
My father shifts in his seat. “I’ll have our counsel review the language.”
“Please,” I say. “And forgive me if I’m not racing to shackle myself to a guy so you can call me stable. From where I’m sitting, stability looks a lot like a leash.”
The silence that follows could butter toast.
Mother inhales, about to implode, when Gideon, the estate manager, glides into the doorway and announces, smooth as glass:
“Mr. Bennett Vance the Fourth.”
Oh. My. Actual. God.
I exchange exasperated looks with Lila, because we both know where this is going.
Bennett Vance thefuckingFourth enters, already owning the oxygen in the room. Tall, handsome, jawline carved from marble. The kind of man who’s never heard “no” without a price tag attached.
My stomach drops.Thisis Mother’s solution.
“Mrs. Preston.” He kisses the air near Mother’s cheek. “Mr. Preston.” Handshake, firm. “Mr. Rothschild.” A nod to my uncle. “A pleasure.”
“Bennett.” Mother glows. “Thank you for making time.”
“Always, for family friends.” He turns to me with calculated warmth. “Good to see you.”
I bare my teeth in something resembling politeness. “Mr. Vance.”
“Bennett,” he corrects, stare assessing me like a scanner measuring ROI.
We sit. Brunch stitches itself around the bomb my mother dropped: silver domes lifted, steam rising, a perfectly balanced spinach omelet. Bennett wedges in beside me, way too close. The fucker breaches my personal space, and my spine goes rigid. Lila slides me a look over her napkin that says:do I fake a medical emergency or will you?
“I’ve spoken with my father,” Bennett says, topping off his water. “We agreed that aligning our families makes sense. Shared interests—real estate, energy, media. Strategically, it’s elegant.”
“Strategically,” I echo, tasting copper.
His mouth curves with self-satisfaction. “And personally?” He tilts his head, as if he’s thought about this carefully. “We’d complement each other. You’re charming, you understand this world. We’d make sense together.”
“Be still my heart,” Lila deadpans.
Bennett ignores her. “I’m hosting a party on the thirtieth. Fireworks, charity tie-in, excellent press access. We can announce our engagement then. I’ve already spoken to my publicist about the rollout.”
“Therollout,” I say faintly. “How romantic.”
“We’ll position it as tradition meets modernity. Your work in the sports space lends a grounded note. My board appointments provide stability. Optics are everything.”
Uncle Julian’s tone frosts. “Her job isn’t anote. It’s a career.”
“Of course,” Bennett agrees lightly, the tone of someone sayingof course she has a hobby. “Naturally, you can continue to curate content. We’ll have to tighten your brand guidelines, but nothing drastic.”
“Mybrand guidelines,” I repeat, dumbstruck.
Dad sets down his coffee. “Bennett, my daughter’s life is not a quarterly report.”
Bennett’s expression doesn’t shift. “With respect, Mr. Preston, this is about securing her future. The clause is inflexible. It’s mutually beneficial.”
