Page 10 of Arranged with Twins
I slide into the back beside Leo, who looks as perfectly put-together at ten in the morning as he did at the gala. His charcoal suit is immaculate, his dark hair is styled with precision, and he smells like expensive cologne and power. Everything about him reinforces the fact that he exists in a different world from mine, where ten-minute notices and absolute authority are simply normal.
“You’re late,” he says without looking up from his phone, fingers moving quickly across the screen as he handles what I assume is urgent business.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
He sighs through his nose. “We’re meeting your parents at the Plaza for brunch. There will be photographers present to capture a few candid moments of us as a couple.”
Candid. I almost laugh at the word choice. There’s nothing candid about any of this, nothing natural or unposed about the elaborate performance we’re all committed to maintaining. I ignore his admonishment about being late. “How thoughtful of you to ask if I had other plans.”
Now he looks at me, one eyebrow raised in what might be amusement or annoyance. “Did you?”
I resist the urge to defensively cross my arms, not wanting to appear petulant. “That’s not the point.”
“Isn’t it?” He pockets his phone and settles back against the leather seat, giving me his full attention for the first time since I got in the car. “We’re engaged, Sienna. That means our schedules are interconnected now. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for both of us.”
His casual assumption that I’ll simply adjust my life to accommodate his wishes makes my teeth grind. “What if I refuse? What if I tell you that being engaged doesn’t give you the right to summon me like a taxi?”
“Then you’ll create exactly what your parents are desperate to avoid, and we’ll both spend the rest of our engagement dealing with the fallout.” His voice remains conversational, but there’s steel underneath it. “Is that really what you want?”
Of course, it isn’t. He knows it, I know it, and we both understand this knowledge gives him all the power in this exchange. I turn to stare out the window at the Manhattanstreets flowing past, hating how easily he’s cornered me with simple logic.
His tone softens slightly. “I understand this is an adjustment, but we both have roles to play here. The media needs to see us as a couple, which means public appearances, coordinated schedules, and the appearance of mutual affection.”
“Mutual affection.” I repeat the phrase like it tastes bad. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“It’s what everyone else will call it. What we call it in private is up to us.”
“A complete farce,” I mutter under my breath. I’m not sure if his words are meant to be reassuring or threatening. Probably both. The car turns onto Fifth Avenue, and I see the Plaza’s distinctive façade ahead, meaning we’re close to my parents’ hotel, which is down the street from the Plaza. It’s much smaller but an exclusive boutique hotel with an excellent restaurant. In a few minutes, I’ll be sitting across a brunch table from my parents, pretending to be blissfully happy about my engagement while photographers capture every moment for tomorrow’s society pages.
The thought makes me want to gag dramatically, but I maintain composure. The performance is beginning whether I’m ready or not.
“For what it’s worth,” Leo says as we pull up to the Vespertine Hotel’s entrance, “You look lovely this morning.”
I glance down at my yellow dress. “You don’t have to do that.”
He frowns. “Do what?”
I wave a hand vaguely. “Pretend to notice me when there aren’t cameras around.”
He studies my face intensely for a second. “Who says I’m pretending?”
4
Leo
The car door opens, and we’re surrounded by a sea of people and noise. Doormen and bellhops spring into action, recognizing us immediately. I imagine Sienna is used to slipping in quietly as the daughter of the owners, but my presence beside her after word has spread about our engagement transforms the arrival into something more elaborate. Staff members straighten, smiles become more deferential, and I can see the ripple of recognition spreading through the lobby.
Vincent and Katherine are waiting near the restaurant entrance, their smiles fixed and camera-ready. Katherine air-kisses Sienna’s cheek before turning to me with practiced charm.
“Leonid, how wonderful to see you again so soon.”
“The pleasure is mine,” I say, accepting her offered hand while Vincent steps forward with his own greeting.
His handshake is firm, though I notice the slight tremor that wasn’t there six months ago. The stress of whatever financial crises he’s managing is beginning to show in physical ways that go beyond simple fatigue.
“Thank you both for arranging this,” I say, noting how Vincent’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
The whole greeting is perfectly choreographed as professionally as any show on Broadway. We’re ushered into the hotel’s elegant dining room, where Katherine immediately guides us toward a table positioned for optimal lighting in the center of the room. Nothing about this location is accidental. She and Vincent have clearly chosen their stage with the same care they’d give to planning a board presentation.
