ARRANGED WITH A BILLIONAIRE CEO

I HAVE A BOYFRIEND

ELISE

The next day blurred past, a frantic, surreal rush that didn't offer a single moment to truly digest the looming reality: my arranged marriage was happening tonight. As evening descended, a cold dread settled in my stomach, but resolve hardened my spine. I would not give my mother another reason to dissect me. Tonight, I would be flawless.

Ruby entered, a soft knock preceding her quiet announcement. "Ma'am, Mr. Milton requires your presence for dinner." I simply nodded, tucking my sketchbook away – another piece of my defiant world hidden from their view. The thought of marriage alone sent a shiver down my spine, but my strategy was set. I couldn't outright refuse this union, but I could make him deny it. I had to. My dreams, the only things I truly lived for, were too precious to be sacrificed on the altar of their expectations.

The dress Ruby delivered, a messenger from my mother, hung in my closet. A simple, elegant blue, thank goodness, exactly my taste. I let my hair fall in a dark curtain down my back, past my waist, a small act of rebellion in a night of forced compliance. Then, I sat in my room, a prisoner in my own palace, waiting for the clock to strike seven.

Taking a deep, anchoring breath, I headed downstairs. The soft cascade of laughter and the gentle clinking of glasses greeted me from the living room. "Ah! There she is," my mother announced, her voice a theatrical lilt, gesturing toward me as all heads turned. My breath hitched, momentarily buried beneath the sudden weight of their collective gaze. Being the center of attention always felt like being trapped under a microscope. But years of training kicked in, the Milton conditioning. A polite, practised smile stretched across my lips as I offered a curt, formal greeting to Mr. and Mrs. Aldridge.

As I settled into my seat, the lingering gaze I'd felt the moment I stepped into the room became impossible to ignore. My eyes, almost compelled, lifted to meet the pair that had been consuming my presence, as if drinking in every detail of my arrival.

Perfect. A perfect blend of light brown, almost golden, with subtle greenish flecks. Framed by lashes so long and dark, I felt a pang of irrational envy. There was a chilling similarity in our eyes—both held a cold, impenetrable quality, utterly devoid of overt emotion. The eye contact stretched, far longer than politeness dictated, before I forced myself to break it, looking away.

"We heard you came back from New York just yesterday. You didn't even get time to rest properly. We wouldn't have hurried this meeting so much if we knew that," Mrs. Aldridge's voice was soft, genuinely sweet. I offered her a slight, polite smile in return.

"Meet Austin," my mother whispered, her voice a conspiratorial breath close to my ear. I glanced at her, then back to him. His eyes were still on me, an unwavering intensity that made me subtly tug a stray strand of hair behind my ear, a sudden, unfamiliar prickle of self-consciousness. "Hello…" I managed, a soft, almost hesitant word. For the first time, he blinked, his gaze dropping for a fleeting fraction of a second before locking back onto mine.

"Elise. It's a pleasure to see you in person." His voice. Deep. Smooth. Calm. It resonated with an unexpected power. "Enjoy the dinner," I offered, my tone deliberately cold, an ice wall meant to end the conversation. Was that rude? I hoped so. I lowered my gaze, forcing my attention to my plate, but I could feel his eyes on me still, a tangible weight, burning holes into my very soul. And what did he mean by 'in person'? The question snagged in my mind.

The dinner unfolded around me—a symphony of forced happy laughter, the clinking of wine glasses, the aroma of delicious food, all underscored by the relentless, consuming weight of those perfect eyes. I spoke only when absolutely necessary, maintaining my 'perfect' facade with every carefully neutral expression.

Finally, my father cleared his throat, commanding the room's attention. "Finally, the years of friendship turning to kinship," he began, a small, self-satisfied chuckle. Mr. Aldridge turned to Austin, "What's your decision, Austin? Are you fine with this arrangement?"

My gaze snapped to Austin, a desperate, silent plea in my eyes. Please, deny it. I truly looked at him then, stripped of my preconceived notions. He was undeniably, breathtakingly gorgeous. His dark, almost black hair contrasted sharply with his fair skin, his forehead smooth, unlined. Those eyes again, a mesmerizing labyrinth that could truly swallow anyone whole. His nose, straight and aristocratic, with a tiny, almost imperceptible mole at the tip. And his lips… perfectly heart-shaped, not too thin. I found myself wondering, bizarrely, what his smile would truly look like. I mentally slapped myself, dragging my thoughts away from his features, away from this dangerous distraction.

He must have a girlfriend. I was certain of it.

Austin's gaze, still unwavering, held mine for a moment longer than necessary. Then, he answered his father. "Yes, Dad." The words, so simple, yet so utterly devastating, struck me like a physical blow. My eyes widened, a raw mixture of fear and shock.

"But… could we both have a little talk before we discuss this further?" he added, his voice low, the question clearly directed at me. I blinked, turning to my father, who nodded. "Of course. Elise, why don't you lead him to our garden?" I nodded, rising from my seat. Austin mirrored my movement, following me quietly out of the stifling dining room.

The cool night breeze was a welcome caress against my face as I stepped into the open air of the garden. I turned to face him once we were a discreet distance from the mansion's doors, only to find his eyes already fixed on me. Why does he stare at me like that? The thought flickered, but I kept the question to myself. Instead, I forced the words out. "Let me get straight to the point—"

He cut me off, his voice calm, but with an edge of absolute certainty. "Cut the crap. Tell me why you don't want this marriage."

I stared into his eyes, my jaw clenching. Cocky. I hated that arrogant self-assurance. I swallowed down the surge of anger, met his gaze, and said, with every ounce of confidence I could muster, "I have a boyfriend."