The Perfect Heiress

A Real Beauty

Chuck's POV

I arrived half an hour before the scheduled meeting time. A true gentleman was always early for a date.

Leaning against a chair, I absently listened to my mother chatting away on the phone. I furrowed my brows as she launched into yet another lecture about how to conduct myself during dinner—how much of a gentleman I should be so as not to frighten Vivienne Sinclair before I even married her.

"Son, when you meet Vivienne, be polite. Don’t act like a reckless playboy and scare her away!" Her voice was high-pitched and crisp, carrying an unmistakable tone of authority.

I idly traced the water stains on the glass window, letting out a soft chuckle. "And why do you think I’d scare her off?"

"Don’t think I don’t know about that flock of girls constantly chasing after you. But Vivienne isn’t like them. She’s a true heiress, a refined woman. The fact that she agreed to meet you already proves her sincerity. Use your handsome face and good manners to win her over." She paused before adding, "And what were you doing in California lately? You must have tanned. That’s good—girls these days prefer tanned skin."

I rubbed my temples, my tone tinged with impatience and underlying arrogance. "I don’t need a handsome face or tanned skin to win her over."

My mother let out a hearty laugh—completely unlike the refined, elegant image of a wealthy socialite the world had painted of her. She never hesitated to mock her only son.

"What’s with the subtle insinuation? Think I can’t tell? Are you sulking over the fact that she has an ex-boyfriend? Please, every woman has a past. Be confident, son. At the very least, you’re richer than him! Mommy’s still betting on you!"

“…” I really had no patience for this conversation. Lowering my voice, I urged her to hang up.

"Don’t forget to buy the lady flowers."

"I’m already at the restaurant, Mom," I drawled lazily.

"Careful, Vivienne might really—"

I cut her off directly. "Mrs. Knight, be careful not to exhaust my patience. If you keep this up, I might just—"

"Mr. Knight?"

A soft, low voice interrupted from behind.

My thoughts jolted, and I instantly stopped speaking.

The voice was distinct—not the usual crisp sweetness of a young girl, but something richer, silkier, like aged wine. Just hearing her say "Mr. Knight" was enough to recognize who it was.

I muttered a quick "Talk later" and ended the call. Glancing at my watch, I noted it was exactly six o’clock—not a second too early nor too late.

Straightening my posture, I stood.

Vivienne was just two meters away, a small Maltese dog nestled in her arms. Her gaze, cool and indifferent, flicked over me. The fitted gold silk dress she wore accentuated her figure, making her look like an ethereal beauty emerging from the depths of an enchanted forest.

Our eyes met midair. Right on cue, the piano music in the restaurant came to a halt.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Sinclair."

I had seen Vivienne before at past social events. Back then, she always wore her hair in meticulously styled waves—seductive, full of charm.

I hadn’t expected her to cut it off so ruthlessly.

Now, half of her short hair was tucked behind her ear, exposing a delicate lobe adorned with a butterfly-shaped earring that swayed lightly, dazzling yet icy.

Fox-like eyes, a straight nose, full red lips, a slightly raised chin—she was stunning enough to render any styling irrelevant.

But my first thought wasn’t about her beauty or even her short hair. It was that she looked thinner than I remembered.

Had her breakup caused her to lose that extra bit of soft weight?

I knew I was scrutinizing her, and she knew it too. But she didn’t shrink under my gaze. Instead, she offered a perfunctory smile that lasted only a few seconds.

I stepped forward, intending to shake her hand.

The Maltese in her arms cowered and let out a low growl, warning me to stay away.

"Pearl, behave. No growling," Vivienne scolded softly, patting its head in mild exasperation.

The Maltese still bared its tiny teeth.

"…Sorry, she’s just not used to strangers," Vivienne said helplessly.

"It’s fine." I smiled, maintaining a respectful distance.

I wasn’t the type to be offended by a tiny dog’s hostility, though my friends often joked that no cats or dogs ever took a liking to me. Maybe there was some truth to it.

Vivienne adjusted her hold on the puppy, avoiding my gaze as she gently comforted it. "Don’t be scared. He won’t hurt you… I knew I shouldn’t have brought you. Such a little troublemaker. How about going inside the bag?"

Her voice softened as she coaxed the pup. Strands of short hair slipped down, blurring the sharp angles of her features. But when she smiled at the dog, there was an undeniable tenderness.

Crouching down, she carefully placed the puppy inside her Hermes handbag.

Once Pearl was settled, she finally turned her attention back to me.

She smiled. "Sorry for the delay. Shall we begin, Mr. Knight?"

I caught the subtle shift in her tone and let a faint smile tug at my lips. With effortless grace, I pulled out a chair and gestured toward it. “Miss Sinclair, please.”

“Thank you.”

Without another word, I pressed the service bell.

A waiter arrived promptly, and I placed our order, "Would you like a drink?"

"Just sparkling water, please."

I hummed in response, retrieving a bottle from the ice bucket and smoothly pouring it into her glass.

When I handed it back, my fingers barely brushed hers.

Vivienne’s reaction was immediate—her fingers trembled slightly, like a bird startled by an unexpected gust of wind.

I acted as though I hadn’t noticed, lifting my own glass of wine. "If anything is lacking, let me know."

Vivienne raised her glass, clinking it gently against mine. A crisp sound rang through the air.

Then, she took a sip, curling her lips into a faint smile. "Mr. Knight, let’s not waste time. You already know my situation, don’t you?"

I set my glass down slowly and met her gaze. "What situation are you referring to, Miss Sinclair?"

She didn’t hesitate. "I had an ex-boyfriend. A celebrity. Practically everyone knows about it."

Straight to the point.

An ex-boyfriend known to all.

My expression remained unchanged as I pulled out a cigarette and lit it, "It certainly caused quite a stir," I remarked coolly, exhaling a thin stream of smoke as I tapped the ash into the tray. "Miss Sinclair’s past relationship was well-documented across America, I presume?"

Since everyone already knew, why bring it up to me? Was she testing me? Was she hoping I’d be displeased and call off our engagement?

Her eyes flickered with a brief hesitation, as if my response had caught her off guard.

At such a sensitive time, agreeing to discuss marriage with her—anyone else in my position wouldn’t have remained this composed.

Vivienne glanced briefly at my cigarette and smiled faintly. "Yes, it did cause a commotion. Since you’re already aware, Mr. Knight, you should also know I have no intention of falling in love anytime soon."

I narrowed my eyes. "Of course."

"I can marry for the benefit of the Sinclair and Knight families. I’ve already severed ties with my past, so I don’t want you to have any doubts about it. In the future, there won’t be—"

Her voice abruptly halted, as if something had caught in her throat.

I didn’t let her escape so easily.

"What won’t there be?" I pressed, giving her no room to hesitate.