Madison's POV
Richard is currently driving me home. The atmosphere inside the car is heavy, wrapped in an uncomfortable silence that's been lingering for too long. I glance sideways at him, wondering if he'll say something or if I should. Just when I open my mouth, he beats me to it.
"I'm sorry for what my mom said. I should have gotten there earlier... but you did well," he says, his voice low, his eyes still on the road.
"It's okay," I reply, though my voice is quieter than intended. "I was the one who went to her anyway. But..." I pause, taking a better look at him. "You look a bit tired. What's wrong?"
His face is pale, with dark circles resting heavily beneath his eyes like permanent shadows. There's a weariness in his expression I hadn't noticed earlier,one that hints at more than just sleepless nights.
Richard lets out a small sigh and says, "I haven't had proper sleep since I left."
"Why not?" I ask, genuinely concerned.
He turns to glance at me for a moment before focusing back on the road. A faint, humorless smile touches his lips. "I have trouble sleeping at my parents' house. I don't like it there. Well... think of it this way,at least we have something in common."
"What do you mean?" I ask, frowning slightly. I wasn't sure what he was implying.
"I mean, we both don't like our parents' houses."
"Oh... I see," I respond, still unsure. I have my reasons for hating mine, but his family loves him or at least, that's what I always thought. Could there be more to his story? I shake my head. It's his family issue; I can't meddle in his affairs.
Soon, we arrive home. As the car comes to a stop, I unbuckle my seatbelt, ready to thank him for the ride and head inside. But just as I reach for the door, he gently grabs my hand.
I turn toward him, startled, eyes wide. His fingers quickly retreat.
"Um... sorry if I startled you," he says, suddenly sheepish. "I just wanted to ask if I could come in for a glass of water?"
His request throws me off. But I remember,this is technically his house. What choice do I have?
"Sure. You can come in."
We head inside. The living room is dimly lit, calm. He sinks into the sofa like someone finally allowed to breathe, while I bring him a glass of water and take a seat on the opposite couch with my own.
He takes a sip, places the glass back on the table, then looks straight at me.
"Am I an unwanted guest right now?"
"What?"
"Why did it suddenly get so awkward? Or is it that..." he pauses, watching me intently. "Is it that you can't stand me or that you're starting to feel something for me?"
His smirk is infuriating, and yet... I look away. There's something dangerous in his gaze—something captivating that I don't want to admit affects me.
"Huh. You wish," I say, scoffing and avoiding his eyes altogether.
He chuckles. "I was just messing with you. But seriously... how are we ever going to convince our families to give us their blessing?"
"What?"
"We have to get to know each other. Grow closer. If we want to pull this off and make them believe we're truly in love... we have to be convincing. Right?"
He has a point.
"Yes... you're right, actually."
A soft smile plays on his lips as he leans forward slightly. "So let's…"
"How about I send you my details in a portfolio through email?" I cut him off. "That should help."
He blinks, stares, then sighs dramatically, as if I just said the dumbest thing in the world.
"Portfolio? Why would you do that? Can't we just talk? We're right here."
"Then... should we take turns asking each other questions?" I suggest awkwardly.
He gets up, walks to the fridge, and returns with two canned beers. He hands one to me and sits back down.
"Why are you giving me beer?" I ask, suspiciously eyeing the can.
"It'll help you talk more freely."
"So... you're trying to get me drunk now?"
"No. I know you're a lightweight, but one can of beer won't get you drunk. Right?"
"Of course not," I answer a bit too quickly, popping open the can and taking a gulp.
He mirrors my action, then sets his can down and leans back.
"So," he begins, "you once said you wanted to get back at William and Sophia. What would be the best way to do that?"
His question catches me completely off guard. I stare at him, stunned.
He smiles and adds, "Love me."
"What?" I choke out, nearly spitting the beer.
"You and I,we don't fit the usual rich family arranged marriage formula. Harper's Hotel is hardly at the same level as my company or my family's empire. And you're adopted. That alone complicates things. So, we need to put on a show. We need to act like we're madly in love and don't care about status. Only then will they give in."
I know he's right. Eventually, we'll have to act like a real couple. Still, the thought of it sends my nerves into chaos.
"So you mean... I have to pretend to love you?"
He nods, holding my gaze. "Can you do it?"
The way he asks,the challenge in his voice, the gleam in his eyes,ignites my competitive streak.
"Of course I can," I say, lifting my chin. "It's no big deal."
He laughs softly. "Alright then. Show me."
"What?"
"Show me. Confess your love for me. I'll judge how good your acting is."
I feel my cheeks heat up. "You first," I counter quickly.
He studies me for a long moment, then stands and walks over. He sits beside me, close,too close and turns to face me fully. His voice lowers, his eyes deep and intense.
"If I do... can you handle it?" he whispers. "I won't be anything you can imagine. You don't know how much I love you or how long I've loved you."
His words cut through the air like a knife. His voice,velvety and deep,sends shivers down my spine. The raw emotion in his eyes grips me, makes it hard to breathe.
Then—he laughs.
"Gotcha."
I blink, stunned, my heart hammering in my chest. He looks entirely too amused.
"So... how was it? Did your heart flutter?"
I scowl, pretending not to be affected. "Um... you should have been an actor. Why business?"
He grins. "You flatter me. But I'm very good at business, thank you."
I stand, cheeks still flushed. "Richard, you should leave."
"What? Now?"
"Yes. It's getting late. I'll email you my details."
"But I drove here."
"Yes, and that's why you must—wait, what?"
He lifts his beer. "I drove here... and now I've had alcohol."
I groan. "So what now?"
He shrugs with a smirk. "Guess I'm staying the night."
It's 1 a.m., and I can't sleep.
I toss and turn in bed, my mind racing. Eventually, I give in and get up to fetch a glass of water.
As I walk down the stairs, I notice the light still on in the living room. When I reach it, I freeze.
Richard is on the couch, fast asleep. Three more empty beer cans are scattered on the floor. He had more than I thought.
I approach quietly and gently shake his shoulder.
"Richard," I whisper. "Wake up."
He doesn't respond. His brows are furrowed, sweat beads on his forehead, and he's murmuring something inaudible.
He's having a nightmare.
I hesitate, then gently rest my hand on his chest and pat him softly. Eventually, his body relaxes, and the murmurs fade. I don't even realize when I fall asleep beside him—hand still on his chest.
I'm awakened by a sharp gasp.
My eyes open slowly,and there she is. Mrs.Jane. Richard's mother.
Her expression is a mixture of horror and confusion. To make matters worse, Richard is still holding my hand.
I jolt upright. "Mrs. Jane! I swear to God, nothing happened. I promise."
She doesn't say anything at first. She just walks over to Richard, still asleep, and calls his name. She pushes his shoulder gently,but he doesn't wake up.
"What happened to him?" she asks, more concerned than angry now.
"He's sleeping."
"Through all this noise? Him?"
"Should I wake him?"
"No," she says quickly. "He always struggles to sleep. Let him rest."
She glances back at me. "I'd like to speak with you outside."
Outside, I stand stiffly while she studies me.
After a long pause, she finally speaks. "Let's have the two families meet. All of them. But on one condition."
"What condition?" I ask.
She steps closer.
"Can you keep a secret from Richard?"