Chapter 5

The next morning, Evelyn woke up to a message on her phone.

Damian: We're having breakfast downstairs. Be ready in fifteen minutes.

Rolling her eyes at the formality, she dressed quickly, opting for a white blouse and fitted black trousers. Despite the simplicity, the elegance of her natural beauty remained undeniable. Her long chestnut waves framed her face perfectly, her blue eyes reflecting quiet strength.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the grand dining hall as sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden glow over the long mahogany table. The morning was quiet, the kind of serene stillness that came with wealth and exclusivity—something Evelyn had never been accustomed to.

Evelyn had barely slept the previous night, her mind plagued with thoughts of what she had gotten herself into. The weight of the diamond ring on her finger was a constant reminder that this wasn't a dream. It was real.

A sudden knock on her bedroom door startled her.

She had barely managed to stand up when the door opened, and a house staff member stepped inside. "Mr. Lancaster requests your presence at breakfast, ma'am."

Evelyn smiled.

It wasn't really a request, was it?

Suppressing a sigh, she made her way downstairs, her heels clicking softly against the marble floors.

As she entered the dining hall, Damian was already seated at the head of the table, dressed in an effortlessly crisp black button-up with the sleeves slightly rolled up. He looked up from his coffee as she walked in, his gaze sweeping over her with that same unreadable intensity.

"You're late," he remarked casually, taking a slow sip of his coffee.

Evelyn's brow twitched. "You didn't give me time."

He smirked. "Consider this your first lesson in being my wife—always anticipate what I expect."

She let out a dry laugh, sliding into the chair across from him. "Oh, so nothing has changed."

His eyes glinted with amusement. "Careful, Evelyn. That almost sounded like resentment."

Resentment? That was an understatement.

Her mind immediately flashed back to the days when she had worked as his secretary.

Mornings just like this, where he'd waltz into the office at precisely 7:00 AM, expecting his coffee to be made to perfection—two sugars, a splash of cream, exactly 130 degrees. If it wasn't, she'd have to remake it.

The time he had sent her to buy an out-of-print book for an investor's wife, only for her to search half the city before realizing he had known it was impossible to find.

Or the way he'd purposely call her into last-minute meetings just as she was about to leave work, forcing her to cancel dinner plans she had waited weeks for.

"Come now, Evelyn," Damian said, interrupting her thoughts. "I wasn't that bad, was I?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You once made me draft and edit an entire fifty-page report in two hours, only to throw it away because you 'changed your mind' on the project."

He arched a brow. "And yet, you stayed."

She gritted her teeth. "Because I needed the job."

His smirk deepened as he leaned back in his chair. "Or maybe because you secretly enjoyed the challenge."

Suppressing an eye-roll, she reached for a piece of toast, her movements deliberately calm. The table was set with an elaborate breakfast spread—fresh fruit, croissants, smoked salmon—but Evelyn barely had an appetite.

Evelyn picked up her fork, stabbing at a piece of fruit with more force than necessary. "You're insufferable."

"And you're avoiding the real question."

She glanced up, meeting his gaze. "Which is?"

Damian placed his coffee down, his expression suddenly unreadable. "Are you going to try to be happy in this marriage, or will you spend every morning glaring at me like you'd rather be anywhere else?"

Her breath caught.

This was supposed to be a business arrangement. A contract. Yet, here he was, looking at her like he expected more.

She swallowed hard, shifting in her seat. "I don't expect happiness from this, Damian."

His gaze darkened slightly. "Then what do you expect?"

She hesitated before answering, her fingers tightening around the napkin on her lap. "To survive."

For a brief moment, something flickered in his expression—something almost akin to disappointment. But then, just as quickly, it was gone.

"Well then," he said, his tone lighter as he took another sip of coffee. "Let's hope you learn to enjoy breakfast first."

She had the strangest feeling that he wasn't just talking about breakfast.

Damian finally set down his cup and looked at her. "We have a public appearance tonight."

Evelyn froze. "Already?"

"The sooner we establish our relationship, the better."

"Where?

"A charity gala."

Of course. The Lancasters were deeply tied to high society, and she was now expected to play the role of his perfect wife.

"What do you need me to do?" she asked, masking her unease.

Damian leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering.

"Smile. Look at me like you adore me. And don't let anyone suspect the truth."

Evelyn's fingers tightened around her fork. Like I adore you? How was she supposed to pretend?

But then again, wasn't this exactly what she signed up for?

She took a steadying breath and met his gaze with quiet determination. "I can do that."

For a fleeting second, something unreadable flickered in Damian's eyes. But just as quickly, it was gone.

"Good," he said, his voice composed. "Because after tonight, the world will believe that Evelyn Carter is madly in love with me."