Strangers To Lovers

Chapter one

Upon settling onto my VIG Chesterfield sofa, a wave of unease washed over me. The smooth fabric, still pristine and free of stains, reminded me of the solitary existence I was trying to escape. As I stood up, anger surged through me, fueled by the realization that I was caught in a web of expectations I wasn't ready to face.

The expression on her face-those devilish red lips and turned-up nose-spoke volumes of her dissatisfaction. I glanced away, inhaling slowly, seeking comfort in the leather beneath me. Did she really think I would just conform to her expectations?

"Are you planning to repeat this, really?" I muttered, my voice low, sensing that we were on a collision course.

Every step she took was accompanied by the tinkling of her diamond-encrusted bracelets, creating a symphony of wealth that echoed my growing curiosity. I raised an eyebrow, intrigued yet wary as she approached, the tension in the air thickening with each heartbeat.

Her harsh demeanor persisted throughout the conversation, her bracelets moving in tandem with her every word. "It would be in our best interest if you started a family," she said, her voice resonant with family heritage. "Your actions create scandals that tarnish our reputation."

I adjusted my waistcoat, trying in vain to prevent another quarrel. Frustration bubbled beneath the surface. Did she really think I was ready for this? "And what if I don't want that?" I shot back, my voice rising slightly.

She laughed, a sound that mixed mockery with bitterness. "I've never married at twenty-two." Her eyes narrowed, revealing a hint of a story I hadn't heard. "Your father and I dated for years before tying the knot at twenty-nine."

"But..." I protested, but she cut me off, relentless. "Our family's stability depends on our standing among other prestigious families. This isn't just a question of desire; it's a responsibility."

As she spoke, I noticed her fingers fidgeting with the diamond-encrusted bracelet, a sign of her own unease despite her confident facade. I sank back into the sofa, my mind racing. Marriage? Children? Those concepts felt foreign, especially when I was still figuring out my place in the world.

"Besides being an educated man, you could be a commendable partner," she said, her tone softening slightly, almost coaxing. "It's 2015, not 1765; love and marriage in America have evolved."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with expectation. "Is that what you truly desire?" I asked, attempting to gain a deeper understanding of her compelling argument. She persisted, shedding light on the long-standing custom of affluent families pooling their resources to secure long-term riches.

The path was clear; our fate seemed intertwined with our ancestors'. She moved forward, casting a long shadow as if examining every motion I made. I wondered if I should really trust her with the family company.

"Please promise to protect our legacy," I begged, waiting for her answer with bated breath. Her response was resolute: "No, I don't plan to get married right now. I give you twenty-five more years of independence as a thank you for all you've done."

I echoed her resoluteness. "I agree, but not just now. For things to become better, effort has to be put in." The hotel underwent updates for the current era, all the while retaining its classic Hilton feel. However, she seemed to be struggling within; an unsaid agony was obvious.

I wondered why she felt she had to push my hand away, trying to make sense of her intentions. Her menacing smirk lingered, causing me to feel both terror and anxiety. "If you don't agree, our vehicle and home are on the line," she threatened with an unwavering glare.

My pulse raced as I scurried from the sofa, clutching my pocket for my keys. This was my first venture into that territory, and I refused to make a hasty decision. What would happen if I gave in?