In The Name Of Forever

FOUR DAYS BEFORE THE WEDDING

Emily's POV

The sun was dipping lower in tht sky when I stepped out of the car in front of La Belle Masion, one of Manhattan's most exclusive resturants. Everything aboout the place screamed luxury_the sleek glass door, the gold-plated handles, te valet in a crisp uniform opening my door before I'd even reached for te handle.

And yet, my heart was thundering harder than it had on any red carpet or high-society gala.

I glanced down at myself one last time before stepping inside_an elegant champagne-colored dress, soft silk tat hugged my curves just right, and a pair of delicate heels that added a whisper of confidence to my stride. I'd spent far too long deciding on what to wear, and the fact that I'd cared tis much irritated me.

It was just lunch.

With my future husband.

Who I barely knew.

No big deal.

The maitre d' recognized me immediately_being the granddaughter of Richard Davenport had that effect_and guided me through the softly lit dinind room to a private table tucked near a wide window overlooking the city. And there he was.

Brian Hayes.

Even in something as simple as a dark button-up shirt and a tailored jacket, he looked effortlessly composed_poised in a way that was both fustrating and captivating. His phone was in his hand, but he slipped it into his pocket the moment e saw me.

''Emily,'' he greeted, standing as I approached

''Brian.'' My voice was steady, thank God.

''He pulled out my chair_gentlemanly, precise_and waited until I was seated before taking his place across from me.

''I hope I didn't keep you waiting,'' I said.

''Not at all,'' he replied. I've only just arrived myself.''

A waiter appeared with menus, but my appetite had vanished the moment i saw him. I managed to order something light, then folded my hands in my laps, trying not to fidget.

''Thank you for agreeing to this,'' Brian said once the waiter left.

''Thank you,'' I countered. ''I wasn't sure you'd want to.''

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. ''I thought it might be...helpful. We don't have much time before the wedding.''

Four days, I thought, trying not to panic.

''Yes. Helpful,'' I echoed, even though the word felt clinical_like we were discussing a business merger, not the rest of our lives.

For a moment, silence streched between us. And then, to my relief, he spoke again.

''I remember you being quieter,'' he said, leaning back slightly.

''Quieter?'' I blinked.

''At some of the events our families attended when we were younger. You were always polite but...distant.''

I laughed softly. ''I was fourteen and terrified of embrassing myself in front of the Hayes family. Your mother has presence , you know.

He chuckled-a low, warm sound that did strange things to my heartbeat. ''She does.''

''And you,'' I teased, ''were always too busy talking business with the adults to notice anyone else.''

''Guilty,'' he admitted. ''Though, in my defense, I was being groomed for the family empire.''

''Well, you've certainly lived uo to the title of heir apparent.''

''Was that a compliment?''

''Maybe.''

His eyes glinted with amusement, and someting about the easy back-and-forth soothed the tightness in my chest. We spent the next hour talking_about his time in London, about the endless charity events my grandfather dragged me to, about the ridiculous stories that had floated around the tabloids over the years.

It was light. It was fun. And for the first time since the engagement had been announced, it felt like maybe, just maybe, this wasn't a disaster waiting ti happen.

''Do you miss london?'' I asked as the waiter cleared our plates.

''Sometimes,'' he said. ''But New York is home.''

''Home,'' I repeated softly, swirling the last sip of wine in my glass. ''I like the sound of that.''

His gaze lingered on me then-just a beat too long. My breath caught, but before I could say anything, he cleared his throat and glanced toward the window.

''It's getting late,'' he murmured. ''Shall we?''

We stepped out into the cool evening air together, the city buzzing softly around us. I wasn't ready for the lunch to end_the warmth between us, the tiny sparks I felt every time our eyes met-but I didn't know how to prolong it without sounding desperate.

''This was...nice,'' I said as we stood by the curb, waiting for the valet to bring our cars.

''It was,'' he agreed.

''Maybe we should do it again.''

''Maybe we should.''

And then silence. Comfortable, but heavy_like there was something trapped between us, waiting to be acknowledged. My heart pounded as I looked up at him, really looked. His expression was as composed as ever, but there was something that made my pulse skip.

I didn't think. I didn't plan. I just moved.

On instinct, I stepped closer-close enough to see the faint flecks of gold in his eyes_and rose onto my toes. My lips brushed his, feather-light, trembling.

It was a slow, careful kiss-a question, not a demand. A tentative is this okay? before I lost my nerve.

And then, before he could respond_before I could see whatever answer might be in his eyes_I pulled back.

For a heartbeat, the world felt like it had stopped.

The city noise faded into a distant hum, the cool breeze didn't register on my skin, and all I could hear was the pounding of my own heart as I stepped back from him.

Brian hadn't moved.

He was standing exactly as he had before_tall, calm, unreadable_his eyes fixed on me with an expression I couldn't decipher. Not rejection. Not anger. But not what I'd hoped for, either.

And then he blinked, as if shaking himself out of a trance, and cleared his throat. ''Emily...''

I'm sorry,'' I blurted out before he could say more. ''I don't know why I_That was probably inappropriate.''

''It's fine'' he said quickly. Too quickly

Fine.

The word stung more than I’d expected.

I forced a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Well. I should go. I have some errands to run before the big day.”

“Right,” he said, nodding once. “Of course. Thank you for meeting me today.”

Thank you for meeting me. As if this had been some polite business lunch instead of the most emotionally confusing two hours of my life.

“My pleasure,” I murmured, and before he could say anything else, I turned and walked toward the waiting car.

The second the door closed behind me, the fragile smile slipped from my face.

The ride back to my apartment was a blur of streetlights and self-recrimination.

What were you thinking, Emily?

Why would you do that?

I pressed my fingers to my lips, still tingling from the contact, and felt heat creep into my cheeks. I’d kissed him. I had kissed him. And he’d just stood there — polite, composed, unmoved.

Maybe I’d imagined the looks he gave me during lunch. Maybe the teasing, the subtle smiles, the way his eyes lingered had all been in my head.

Maybe he really didn’t like me.

The thought was like a tiny fissure cracking through my chest.

It made sense, didn’t it? He was perfect — successful, respected, gorgeous — and probably had women far more experienced and sophisticated than me throwing themselves at his feet in London. I was just… convenient. The girl promised to him since childhood. A name on a contract.

By the time the car pulled up in front of my apartment, I had almost convinced myself that the kiss had meant nothing — that I had meant nothing.

I climbed the stairs slowly, replaying every detail of the afternoon in my mind: his quiet laugh, the way he’d looked at me when I’d joked with him, the softness in his tone when he’d said maybe we should meet again.

All of it must have been politeness, I told myself firmly. He’s just being nice.

And yet, when I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of his lips against mine. I couldn’t stop wondering if, somewhere deep down, he’d felt it too.