Unexpected Billionaire Bride

Chapter 4: Public Appearances

Eliza discovered two things on Saturday morning:

One — Cassandra had absolutely no respect for personal space.

Two — Cassandra had apparently decided that Eliza’s engagement, imaginary though it currently was, meant her entire body was now a public relations asset.

“Eliza, stand up straight.”

“I am standing straight.”

“Straighter.”

Eliza sighed and adjusted her posture while Cassandra circled her like a hawk evaluating livestock. They were in Cassandra’s bedroom — because apparently, when preparing for social events, Cassandra’s room was “more appropriate” than Eliza’s, which was code for I want control of everything you wear.

“Smile softer,” Cassandra said.

“I’m not smiling.”

“Exactly.”

Eliza crossed her arms. “You said this brunch was casual.”

“It is casual,” Cassandra said dismissively. “For billionaires.”

Eliza glanced down at the dress Cassandra had picked — pale blue, knee-length, delicate neckline, subtle floral pattern.

“You’re trying to make me look harmless,” Eliza said.

Cassandra smiled. “I’m trying to make you look agreeable.”

“No.”

Cassandra’s eyes hardened. “Excuse me?”

Eliza stepped back toward the dresser where her own clothes were folded neatly. “I’m wearing what I chose.”

She lifted out a soft white blouse, tailored beige trousers, and low heels — elegant but sharp. Confident, not fragile.

Cassandra scoffed. “You look like you’re going to a job interview.”

“Good,” Eliza said. “I plan to interview him.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“No,” Eliza said calmly. “I’m independent.”

“That will change.”

“Not today.”

They stared at each other.

Daniel’s voice floated down the hall. “Are you two ready?”

Cassandra forced a smile. “Almost!”

Eliza turned away, heart pounding — but with something dangerously close to satisfaction.

Nathaniel discovered something Saturday morning too:

His grandfather had zero chill.

“Nathaniel,” Theodore said into the phone, “you’re attending the Harrington Foundation brunch today.”

Nathaniel frowned. “I wasn’t aware.”

“You are now. Bring Eliza.”

“I already have plans.”

“Yes,” Theodore replied smoothly. “With Eliza.”

Nathaniel sighed. “This feels orchestrated.”

“Of course it is,” Theodore said proudly. “That’s leadership.”

Nathaniel rubbed his temple. “We agreed to take this slow.”

“I agreed to nothing.”

“Naturally.”

He hung up and immediately texted Eliza.

Nathaniel:

Do you hate charity brunches?

Eliza:

I tolerate them with coffee and sarcasm. Why?

Nathaniel:

Because my grandfather just volunteered us for one.

Eliza:

Define volunteered.

Nathaniel:

Emotionally blackmailed.

Eliza:

Perfect. What time do I panic?

Nathaniel:

Noon. I’ll pick you up.

Eliza:

I’ll bring my battle face.

Nathaniel:

Excellent. I’ll bring moral support.

She smiled at her phone.

The Harrington Foundation brunch took place in a sprawling glass conservatory overlooking Central Park. Sunlight filtered through climbing ivy and crystal chandeliers, casting warm reflections off polished marble floors. Tables were dressed in crisp white linens, floral arrangements, and enough silverware to host a medieval banquet.

Eliza stepped out of Nathaniel’s car and froze.

“This is… a lot,” she murmured.

Nathaniel grinned. “You should see it at night. It looks like rich people mating season.”

She snorted. “Please never say that again.”

“Noted.”

He offered his arm.

She hesitated.

Then took it.

And immediately felt very aware of how close he was.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I don’t bite.”

“Statistically unverified.”

He laughed.

Inside, eyes turned.

Not subtly.

Eliza felt it — the weight of stares, whispers, speculation.

“That’s him.”

“Is that her?”

“They’re engaged already?”

“She’s pretty.”

“She’s young.”

“She looks… normal.”

Eliza stiffened.

Nathaniel felt it.

“Hey,” he murmured quietly. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Just adjusting to being a zoo exhibit.”

He leaned closer. “If anyone throws peanuts, I’ll intervene.”

She smiled faintly.

They moved through the crowd, Nathaniel greeting people easily, Eliza offering polite smiles and firm handshakes. Cassandra’s training kicked in automatically — posture, poise, pleasant neutrality — but something felt different.

Because Nathaniel wasn’t parading her.

He was… walking with her.

Subtle difference.

Meaningful difference.

“Ah, Nathaniel!” Theodore Carmichael boomed from across the room. “And this must be Eliza.”

He approached, tall and silver-haired, eyes sharp and calculating — the kind of man who’d crushed competitors and breakfast meetings with equal ease.

“Eliza Harper,” she said, extending her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Charming,” Theodore said, shaking it firmly. “Very charming. Nathaniel, you’ve done well.”

Nathaniel bristled. “She’s not a stock investment.”

Theodore waved him off. “Relax.”

Eliza met Theodore’s gaze calmly. “I hope your foundation brunch is successful.”

He studied her for a moment — then smiled slightly. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Neither are you,” she replied pleasantly.

Nathaniel nearly choked on his mimosa.

Theodore laughed — loud and genuine. “I like her.”

Eliza blinked.

“Well,” Theodore added, “this is promising.”

Nathaniel leaned closer to her. “I apologize in advance.”

She smiled. “For what?”

“For my family.”

“Same.”

Halfway through brunch, Eliza found herself cornered by a cluster of well-dressed women who clearly ran on gossip and champagne.

“So,” one of them said, smiling too brightly, “how did you and Nathaniel meet?”

Eliza opened her mouth —

“Online,” Nathaniel said smoothly, appearing beside her.

She blinked.

“Online?” she echoed.

“Yes,” he said. “She accidentally hacked my company website.”

She stared at him.

The women gasped.

“You hacked him?” one whispered.

Eliza recovered quickly. “Only ethically.”

Nathaniel nodded solemnly. “Very professional crime.”

They laughed.

The women wandered off, clearly disappointed by the lack of scandal.

Eliza turned to him. “Online hacker?”

“Panicked,” he said. “First thing that came to mind.”

“You could’ve said mutual friends.”

“I wanted you to sound impressive.”

Her lips curved. “Next time, say I blackmailed you.”

“Tempting.”

Later, near the dessert table, Eliza noticed Cassandra approaching — wine glass in hand, eyes gleaming.

“Darling,” Cassandra said brightly. “There you are. Nathaniel, such a pleasure to see you again.”

He inclined his head politely. “Cassandra.”

She linked her arm through Eliza’s. “We were just discussing wedding timelines.”

Eliza stiffened.

Nathaniel didn’t miss it.

“Oh?” he said calmly. “We hadn’t gotten that far.”

Cassandra smiled tightly. “Of course. But it’s never too early to plan.”

“Actually,” Nathaniel replied smoothly, “we agreed to take things slowly.”

Eliza blinked.

Cassandra frowned. “Slowly?”

“Yes,” he said, tone firm. “We believe in building a strong foundation.”

Eliza’s heart skipped.

Cassandra’s eyes flicked to Eliza. “Do you agree?”

“Yes,” Eliza said evenly. “I do.”

Cassandra forced a smile. “How… modern.”

Nathaniel leaned closer. “Is that a compliment?”

“Hardly,” Cassandra replied coolly.

He smiled anyway.

“Well,” Cassandra said sharply, “I’m sure we’ll discuss it further later.”

She walked away.

Eliza exhaled.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“For what?”

“For not letting her bulldoze.”

He met her eyes. “That’s part of the alliance.”

Something warm fluttered in her chest.

After brunch, they escaped into the garden terrace overlooking the park — quieter, shaded by tall hedges and climbing roses.

“That was exhausting,” Eliza said, leaning against the railing.

Nathaniel nodded. “I need a nap and a personality detox.”

She laughed.

Silence fell — comfortable.

“You did great,” he said.

“I didn’t spill champagne or insult your grandfather.”

“Low bar,” he teased.

She smiled, then hesitated. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Always.”

“Does your grandfather… control everything?”

His expression tightened slightly. “Most things.”

“And you let him?”

“I tolerate him,” he corrected. “Because fighting him tends to hurt other people.”

She studied him. “Like me.”

“Yes.”

Her chest tightened. “I don’t want to be collateral damage.”

“You’re not,” he said firmly. “You’re… my partner.”

The word hit harder than it should have.

“Temporary,” she reminded him.

He smiled faintly. “Of course.”

But his eyes lingered.

On Monday, Cassandra escalated.

“Eliza,” she said casually over breakfast, “Nathaniel will be attending the Carmichael annual fundraiser next weekend. You’ll accompany him.”

“I have plans,” Eliza said.

“Cancel them.”

“No.”

Cassandra’s smile sharpened. “Excuse me?”

“I said no,” Eliza repeated calmly. “I’m not rearranging my life for events I didn’t agree to.”

Daniel shifted uncomfortably. “Sweetheart…”

“I’ll go if I choose to,” Eliza said. “Not because I’m ordered.”

Cassandra’s eyes glittered. “You’re forgetting your position.”

Eliza stood. “I know exactly where I stand.”

She walked out.

Her phone buzzed seconds later.

Nathaniel:

Did you just stand up to Cassandra Harper?

Eliza:

Is this a trick question?

Nathaniel:

My grandfather just called to complain about her. I’m impressed.

Eliza smiled.

Eliza:

I’m evolving.

Nathaniel:

Terrifying.

Tuesday evening, Nathaniel invited her to dinner — not at a gala, not at a boardroom restaurant, but at a small Italian place tucked between brownstones.

“No paparazzi,” he said proudly.

“I’m touched.”

They ate pasta and garlic bread and talked about everything except their engagement — childhood stories, embarrassing moments, favorite movies.

“You cried at Finding Nemo, didn’t you?” she accused.

“I was emotionally affected,” he corrected.

“You sobbed.”

“I wept with dignity.”

She laughed.

At some point, she realized she felt… relaxed.

Not guarded.

Not tense.

Just… herself.

Which was dangerous.

Because it meant she was starting to care.

That night, as Nathaniel walked her to her building, the city lights glowing softly around them, neither quite wanted to say goodbye.

“I had fun,” she said quietly.

“Me too.”

Silence stretched.

“I should go,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed.

Neither moved.

“Eliza,” he said softly.

“Yes?”

“I’m glad it’s you.”

Her heart stuttered. “Me too.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

They stared at each other.

Something charged hung in the air — unspoken, undeniable.

For a moment, she thought he might kiss her.

He didn’t.

Instead, he stepped back gently.

“Goodnight,” he said.

“Goodnight.”

She went inside with her pulse racing and her brain screaming danger — but her heart whispering maybe.

Upstairs, Cassandra watched from the window, lips curved into a thin smile.

“Interesting,” she murmured.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel stood on the sidewalk for several seconds after Eliza disappeared inside.

He exhaled slowly.

“This is trouble,” he muttered.

And for the first time in years, he didn’t hate that.