FIRST IMPRESSIONS
1373 Words
Emily's POV
The city outside my window was already painted in gold and violet by the time I slipped into my dress. The fabric hugged my body just right—elegant, understated, and carefully chosen to strike the impossible balance between ''future daughter-in-law'' and ''woman who might be impossible to forget.''
I had never spent so much time picking a dress for dinner before. But then again, I'd never been meeting my soon-to-be husband like this either.
''Breate,'' Lila reminded me from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a teasing smile. ''You look like you're about to walk into a courtroom.
''I feel like I am,'' I muttered, smoothing invisible wrinkles from the dark emerald satin. ''I haven't seen him in years, Li. What if he's cold? Or worse — indifferent?''
''Then he's a fool,'' she said without missing a beat. ''And he's also blind.''
Sophie appeared behind her, eyes going wide as she gave ma a once-over. ''Ohhh, if he doesn't fall to his knees tonight, I will. You look amazing.''
I laughed, tension easing slightly. ''Thanks. I think I'm going to need the confidence boost.''
''Just remember,'' Sophie said, walking over to adjust one of my earrings, ''This isn't about proving anything. You're Emily Montclair. You are the catch here.''
I wasn't sure I believed that, but I appreciated the pep talk anyway.
The Montclair dining room glowed under the chandelier that looked like it belonged in a palace. Everything was perfect—crystal glasses, tall candles, even the scent of jasmine drifting from the flower arrangements.
But my heartbeat was anything but steady.
''Stop fidgeting,'' Grandpa murmured beside me as we waited near the entrance. ''He's just a man.''
''Just a man I'm marrying in six days,'' I whispered back. ''A man who runs a company worth billions. A man I haven't seen in five years and barely spoken to.''
''Still just a man,'' he said, patting my hand.
I opened my mouth to respond, but then the doors opened—and there he was.
Brian Hayes looked exactly as he did in the photos—tall, composed, devastatingly handsome in a charcoal suit that cost more than a normal worker's salary. But photos didn't capture the quiet confidence he carried, the gravity that seemed to pull the air toward him.
And when his eyes found mine, it felt like the room stilled.
I told myself to look away, to smile politely, but i couldn't. My stomach twisted, my breath caught, and for a ridiculous heartbeat, I forgot every word I'd rehearsed in my head.
God, he's beautiful.
''Emily,'' my grandfather's voice jolted me back, and I blinked as Brian and his parents approached.
''Mr. and Mrs. Hayes,'' Grandpa greeted warmly. ''It's been too long.''
''Too long indeed,'' Brian's father replied, shaking his hand. His mother kissed my cheek and squeezed my hands affectionately.
''Emily, you look absolutely stunning,'' she said, and I felt my cheeks heat.
''Thank you,'' I murmured.
Then Brian was in front of me and suddenly the room felt too small.
''Emily,'' he said softly, his voice lower and smoother than I remembered. ''It's good to see you.''
''You too,'' I managed, cursing myself for how breathless I sounded.
We shook hands—formal, polite. But his touch was warm, steady, lingering just a second too long. And I hated how my pulse jumped at the contact.
Dinner was a blur of conversations—business talk between the fathers, wedding details with the mothers, the occasional polite question tossed in my direction. I answered them all, smiled when expected, but half my attention was fixed on the man sitting across from me.
He was maddeningly composed. Calm, collected, answering questions with practiced charm. But every so often, his gaze would flick to me—quick, assessing, almost curious — and every time it did, my chest felt too tight.
At one point, our eyes met briefly over the rim of his wine glass. He didn't look away immediately, and neither did I. The air between us shifted, subtle but charged, and I felt that same flutter from before—stronger now, harder to ignore.
Is he thinking about our wedding night?
The thought hit me uninvited, scandalous and unhelpful. I forced myself to focus on the conversation again, cheeks warm.
''Perhaps you two should have a moment alone,'' Brian's mother suggested after dessert, smiling knowingly. ''You'll have plenty to discuss, I'm sure.''
''Of course,'' Brian said smoothly, rising from his chair. ''Shall we?''
I nodded and stood, heart hammering as I followed him through the arched double doors into the garden terrace. The autumn air was cool, the city lights glittering beyond the trees. For a moment, neither of us spoke.
''It's beautiful out here,'' I said, breaking the silence.
''It's,'' he agreed, and I had the distinct feeling he wasn't talking about the view.
The silence between us wasn't awkward. If anything, it was charged—humming with something unspoken. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, trying to ground myself.
''You've done well in London,'' I said after a moment, my voice steadier than I felt. ''Everyone talks about Hayes Holding's expansion there.''
A hint of a smile curved his lips. ''I try.''
''You don't just try,'' I said, glancing at him. ''You've built something extraordinary.''
He met my gaze then, and for a heartbeat, the composure slipped—just a flicker of warmth. ''Thank you. That means more than you think.''
I looked away quickly, flustered. Complimenting him had seemed harmless, but the intensity in his eyes made my pulse skitter.
''It must have been....exciting,'' I added lamely, ''building something from the ground up.''
''It was,'' he admitted. ''But also exhausting. London was good for the company and for me. It kept me focused.''
Focused, I repeated silently. A neat, contained word—the kind people used when they didn't want to say lonely. I wondered if he'd ever thought about me the way I'd thought about him over the years.
''I followed the stories,'' I confessed before I could stop myself. ''Your interviews, the articles.....you were everywhere.''
His brow arched slightly. ''You were paying attention.''
I froze, cheeks warming. ''I mean—it was hard not to. You were in every business magazine.''
One corner of his mouth lifted, the smallest hint of a smile. ''Still, I'm glad you noticed.''
The air shifted again—heavier now, threaded with something more intimate. I told myself to breathe, to stay calm, but my heart refused to listen.
He took a step closer. Not enough to crowd me, but enough that I could smell his expensive cologne—subtle, clean, expensive. The distance between us felt suddenly fragile, like one wrong word might shatter it.
''I wasn't sure how you'd feel about all this,'' he said quietly. ''The arrangement. The marriage.''
Honesty seemed like the only option. ''I'm not against it. I just ....'' I hesitated, searching for the right words. ''I wish I knew you better.''
Something softened in his expression—the faintest crack in that careful composure. ''Then maybe we should change that.''
My breath caught. ''What do you mean?''
''We still have a week before the wedding,'' he said. ''We could meet again. Talk. Get to know each other beyond contracts and expectations.''
I blinked at him, stunned. I hadn't expected that—not from the stoic, calculated man everyone described. And yet here he was, offering exactly what I'd wanted but hadn't dared to ask for.
''I'd like that,'' I said softly.
For a long moment, we just stood there—two near-strangers bound by family and fate, trying to find something real in the middle of all the formality. His gaze dipped briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes, and something hot and dizzying curled low in my stomach.
Does he want to kiss me?
Do I want him to?
The answers to both questions were terrifyingly clear.
But he didn't move closer. He didn't touch me. He just held my gaze, steady, and unreadable, as if committing every detail of my face to memory.
''I'll call you,'' he said finally, his voice a little lower. ''Tomorrow.''
''Tomorrow,'' I echoed, my heart racing.
- Writer
