Not his first choice

chapter 3

Chapter 3

7:00 PM

I step out of the car, my heels clicking against the pavement as I approach the entrance of La Fontaine, one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city.

I smooth down my dress, suddenly hyper-aware that this is the first time I’ll be seeing Lucian outside the office in… a long time.

I spot him immediately.

Seated at a private table, dressed in his usual black suit—but there’s something about the way he looks tonight. More relaxed. More… dangerous.

His eyes lift to mine, and for a fraction of a second, something flickers there. Recognition? Appreciation? I don’t know.

"You’re late," he murmurs as I take my seat.

I arch a brow. "I’m right on time."

Lucian watches me, then smirks—an infuriating, knowing smirk. "Good. I hate waiting."

A waiter appears with a bottle of wine, but I barely register his words.

Because Lucian is still watching me.

Like he’s seeing me differently.

Like maybe, just maybe, for the first time…

He’s really seeing me at all

I reach for the menu, pretending to be engrossed in it, even though I already know what I want.

Lucian doesn’t look away.

I can feel it.

That quiet, intense scrutiny he’s perfected over the years. The kind that makes people squirm, that makes them desperate to fill the silence.

But I’m not just anyone.

I’ve worked for him long enough to know that silence is its own kind of power.

So I take my time, scanning the menu as if I don’t notice the weight of his gaze.

Finally, he leans back in his chair, fingers tapping against the table. "You didn’t ask why we’re here."

I glance up. "Does it matter?"

His lips curve slightly. "You tell me."

I set the menu down. "You don’t do casual dinners, Lucian. So whatever this is, it’s not just a meal."

He nods once, approving. "Sharp as always."

Something about the way he says it—low, smooth, edged with something unreadable—makes my stomach tighten.

I push past it. "So? What’s the occasion?"

Lucian exhales, swirling the wine in his glass before speaking. "My grandfather."

That gets my attention.

He’s mentioned his grandfather before, of course. The man who practically raised him and his brother after their parents died. The only person whose approval seems to matter to Lucian.

But he rarely talks about him like this. Like something is weighing on him.

"What about him?" I ask carefully.

Lucian’s jaw tightens for a second before he says, "He wants me to get married."

I blink.

Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn’t on the list.

I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. He just watches me, waiting for my reaction.

I force out a light laugh. "And you? Suddenly thinking of settling down?"

His gaze doesn’t waver. "No. But I respect him. And he won’t let it go."

There’s something almost unreadable in his expression. Something uncertain.

Lucian Sterling is never uncertain.

I tilt my head, keeping my voice neutral. "And where do I come in?"

He lifts his glass, taking a slow sip before answering.

"I need you to make a list."

My fingers tighten around the napkin in my lap.

"A list?"

"Of women." He sets his glass down. "Eligible, suitable candidates. You know me better than anyone, Sienna. You’ll know who’s fit to stand by my side."

The air shifts. Just a little.

And for the first time tonight, I struggle to keep my face blank.

Because I do know him.

And I know that he doesn’t realize how much this request is going to hurt me.

I keep my expression neutral, even as something sharp and bitter twists inside me.

Of course, he would ask me to do this.

Of course, he would trust me with something as personal as choosing his future wife—because to him, that’s all this is. A practical decision.

Nothing more.

I inhale slowly, smoothing my hands over my lap before meeting his gaze. “Understood. I’ll put together a list.”

Lucian nods, as if it was always that simple. “Good.”

And just like that, the conversation is over.

The tension in my chest tightens, but I push it down, just like I always do.