Ana went to the matchmaking agency to help them meet at the agreed-upon location for the blind date – “Elysium”.
It was a members-only club in an unmarked Soho building. The doorman, a mountain of a man in a tailored suit, recognized her from her previous visits with Giles and let her pass without a word.
The club's interior was dimly lit. Dark wood, supple leather, and hushed conversations. The air smelled of expensive whiskey and power.
Ana scanned the room, her heart pounding against her ribs. She’s looking for someone to go on a blind date with，since the face in the photo wasn’t very clear, it was difficult for her to identify it.
In a secluded, high-backed booth, she spotted a man who matched the description. Tall, dark hair, wearing an expensive suit, staring alone into a glass of whiskey.
Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she walked over. The pain in her side was a constant, sharp throb, a metronome counting down her remaining time.
"Excuse me," she said. Her voice was smoother than she expected. "I’m here today to meet you for a potential marriage，my name is Ana Gardner. "
The man looked up.
But his eyes were not the playful brown from the photo . They were a piercing, cold grey. Like a winter storm over the Atlantic. His presence was far more intimidating than a mere playboy's. This was not a man who played games. This was a man who won wars.
Ana, fueled by desperation and a cocktail of painkillers and adrenaline, didn't notice the discrepancy. She mistook his silence for confirmation.
She slid into the booth opposite him, her posture ramrod straight despite the fire in her abdomen. "I need to get married. Within the next 72 hours. If you think it’s a good fit, we can get married."
Austen raised a single, perfect eyebrow. His expression was unreadable. He slowly, deliberately, turned the crown of his Patek Philippe watch. A small, controlled movement.
Ana pushed on, laying out her terms with the chilling efficiency of a top-tier executive assistant. "This would be a contract marriage. Strictly business. I need to secure an inheritance."
She added the crucial detail, the bait she believed was irresistible.
"I understand you have your own reasons to avoid a... traditional marriage." She let the implication hang in the air. "Our arrangement would be mutually beneficial. We maintain separate lives, no emotional involvement. I can offer you a generous financial compensation for your trouble."
She thought she was offering a convenient shield to a gay man trying to fend off family pressure.
Austen listened, his grey eyes never leaving her face. He leaned forward. The intensity in his gaze made her breath catch in her throat. "Financial compensation won't be necessary."
Ana was confused. "Then... what do you want?"
A ghost of a smile played on Austen's lips. "I really need a partner who can shield me from the label of being gay, and you need a marriage. Since we both get what we want, why not get married right now."
The words were simple. The possessive undertone was not.
Before Ana could process the statement, he stood up. His tall frame loomed over the booth, casting her in his shadow. "The City Clerk's office closes in an hour. We should go."
He held out his hand.
It wasn't an offer. It was a command.
Ana was completely thrown. This wasn't how she had envisioned it. She expected negotiation, hesitation, a discussion of terms. Not immediate, decisive action.
But she was out of time. She was out of options. The pain in her side was getting worse, a sharp, insistent reminder of her ticking clock.
She needed this done.
Soon, the Bentley glided to a stop in front of the Manhattan Municipal Building.
Austen led a dazed Ana inside, his hand a firm, warm pressure on the small of her back. It wasn't gentle. It was guiding. Unyielding.
She should have felt alarmed. Any woman would. But a thought surfaced in her muddled mind, that's what the file said. The thought made her relax, just a fraction.
She even thought this man was very dedicated, having quickly taken on the role of a husband.
His assistant, a man with the sharp, impersonal look of a secret service agent, was already waiting inside. He held a clipboard with all the necessary paperwork, pre-filled. A testament to terrifying efficiency.
All they needed were signatures.
In front of a bored-looking city clerk, under the hum of fluorescent lights, Ana finally saw the name typed neatly on the official document.
*Austen Velez.*
The surname tickled something in her memory. Velez. She had heard that name before—in business circles, in passing conversations. It was familiar, yet distant.
