Sunday Dinner
1326 Words
*chapter3: Sunday Dinner*
The next morning smelled like coffee and panic.
Lily woke up at 6AM on silk sheets in a room bigger than her entire apartment. For 3 seconds she forgot who she was.
Then she saw the diamond ring on the nightstand. Too big. Cold.
Mrs. Frost.
Her phone had 4 missed calls from Jake and 1 text from Helen:
`Car at 5:30PM. Black dress. Low neckline. Mr. Frost’s mother hates pants.`
Of course she did.
Lily padded to the kitchen in bare feet. Damian was already there.
He was in sweatpants and a gray tee. Hair messy. No tie. No boardroom armor.
He looked 10 years younger and 100 times more dangerous.
He was making coffee. Actually making it. Not an assistant.
He glanced up when she walked in. His eyes did that thing again. The half-second scan. Dress. Hair. Bare feet.
Then he looked away.
"Morning," he said. Voice rough from sleep.
"Morning, Mr. Frost," Lily replied automatically.
He stopped pouring. "Damian. In private."
"Right. Damian."
The word felt weird in her mouth. Too soft.
He pushed a mug toward her. Black. No sugar.
"How’d you sleep?"
"On a bed that costs more than my car," Lily said, taking it. "Great."
Damian almost smiled. Almost. "Helen will take you shopping at noon. For tonight."
"Do I need to?"
"My mother will inspect you," he said flatly. "Like a horse at auction. Pants won’t pass."
Lily nodded. "Got it. Be the perfect wife."
"Be yourself," Damian said, then seemed to regret it. "Just... don’t mention the contract. Or the mop."
He left the kitchen before she could answer.
---
Shopping with Helen was war.
"Mr. Frost said ‘elegant but not trying too hard’," Helen said, holding up a black dress. "$12,000."
Lily nearly choked. "Can we try the $300 one?"
"No." Helen was firm. "You’re Mrs. Frost now. Act like it."
By 4PM Lily had 3 bags, new heels, and a headache. The dress was black. Silk. Knee-length. Respectable but with a back that dipped low enough to make her nervous.
"Perfect," Helen said. "You’ll pass."
Pass. Like an exam.
---
The Frost estate was 30 minutes outside the city. Gates. Security. A house that looked like it was on the cover of a magazine about rich people.
Damian drove. He’d changed into a suit. Tie. Watch. CEO mode back on.
Neither of them talked for the first 20 minutes.
"Rules for tonight," Damian said finally. "Smile. Call my parents Mr. and Mrs. Frost. Don’t talk about work. Don’t mention Victoria. If my mom asks about babies, say ‘we’re focusing on the merger right now’."
Lily gripped her bag. "Clause 4. Public appearances."
"Clause 4," Damian echoed. He glanced at her. "You okay?"
"I signed a contract to lie for a million dollars," Lily said. "I’m fine."
He didn’t answer. But his hand, resting on the gear shift, twitched like he wanted to reach for hers. He didn’t.
The front doors opened before they reached them.
Mrs. Frost was tall. Blonde. Pearls. The kind of smile that cut.
Mr. Frost was behind her. Gray hair. Stern eyes.
"Darling!" Mrs. Frost pulled Damian into a hug. Then turned to Lily. Her eyes went from Lily’s hair to her shoes in 2 seconds. "You must be Lily. Welcome, dear."
Her voice said _welcome_. Her eyes said _who are you_.
"Thank you for having me, Mrs. Frost," Lily said. She’d practiced this in the mirror. "It’s lovely to meet you."
Dinner was in a dining room with a chandelier that could fund a hospital wing.
12 people. All Frost family. All staring.
"So Lily," Mrs. Frost started, passing the wine. "Damian says you met at a charity event?"
"Yes," Lily said. "I was... volunteering. With children."
Lie #1.
"How sweet," Mrs. Frost cooed. "And what do you do, dear?"
Lily’s throat went dry. "I’m... between jobs right now. Focusing on supporting Damian."
Lie #2.
Damian’s leg brushed hers under the table. On purpose?
"She’s very good at supporting me," he said smoothly. His hand came to rest on the back of her chair. "Especially with the merger."
Mr. Frost cleared his throat. "The board was surprised. So soon after Victoria."
The room went quiet.
Damian’s jaw ticked. "Victoria and I were over months before the breakup was announced."
"Of course," Mr. Frost said. But he was looking at Lily now. Really looking. "And children? You’re 32, Damian. The company needs an heir."
Lily nearly dropped her fork.
Clause 11. _Revisit in month 5._
"We’re focusing on the merger right now," Lily said, exactly like Damian told her. Her voice didn’t shake. She was proud of that.
Mrs. Frost smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes. "Of course, dear. But a woman’s biological clock... you understand."
Lily nodded. "I understand."
The rest of dinner was a blur. Questions about her family. About where she grew up. About why she had cleaning stains under her nails she couldn’t scrub off yet.
Through it all, Damian didn’t let go. His hand stayed on her chair. His knee touched hers.
When Victoria’s name came up again, his grip tightened.
"Victoria is no longer part of this family," he said, voice ice. "Let’s not discuss her."
After dinner, Mrs. Frost pulled Lily aside to "see the garden."
It was a trap and they both knew it.
"My son is a very busy man," Mrs. Frost said, stopping by a fountain. "He needs a wife who can host. Who knows which fork to use. Who comes from the right background."
Lily kept her face blank. "I’m a fast learner."
"Are you?" Mrs. Frost’s eyes dropped to the ring. "That ring was meant for Victoria."
"It fits me now," Lily said quietly.
Mrs. Frost’s mouth twitched. "We’ll see, dear. We’ll see."
---
The car ride home was silent for 10 minutes.
Then Damian exhaled. Loud.
"You did good."
"Did I?" Lily asked. "Your mom hates me."
"My mom hates everyone," Damian said. "You didn’t cry. You didn’t run. You answered her."
Lily looked out the window. "She asked about babies."
"I know." Damian’s voice was tight. "I’m sorry. Clause 11 comes early with her."
"Month 5," Lily whispered. "We have time."
"Yeah," Damian said. "Time."
When they got to the penthouse, Lily went straight to the guest room. She kicked off the $800 heels and collapsed on the new couch.
Her phone buzzed. Unknown number again.
`Saw the photos from dinner. You look ridiculous in that dress. Go back to mopping. -V`
Lily blocked the number.
There was a knock.
Damian. He was in sweatpants again. Holding two mugs.
"Thought you could use this," he said. Hot chocolate. Not whiskey.
Lily took it. "Thanks."
They sat in silence. Him on the armchair. Her on the couch.
"I hate those dinners," Damian said suddenly. "Always have."
Lily looked at him. "You didn’t have to defend me."
"Yes I did," he said. "You’re my wife. For 90 days."
For 90 days.
Lily nodded. "Right. 90 days."
Damian stood to leave. Paused at the door.
"Your mom’s surgery is Tuesday. 9AM. Best cardiac surgeon in New York. I’ll have a car for you."
Lily’s chest squeezed. "You didn’t have to—"
"I know," he cut her off. "Goodnight, Lily."
He used her first name again.
After he left, Lily stared at the hot chocolate. At the contract on her nightstand.
90 days. Separate bedrooms. No romantic involvement.
She pulled the blanket up. The couch was soft now.
Too soft.
Because all she could think about was how warm Damian’s hand had felt on her back all night.
And in his office, Damian poured whiskey and watched the security footage again.
Not the wedding this time.
Dinner.
Specifically the part where Lily said "we’re focusing on the merger" with her chin up and her hands steady.
He paused it. Zoomed in on her face.
"Just 90 days," he muttered.
But he didn’t delete the file.
- Writer
