Claire's POV
In no time, we leave the house together, heading out for the dinner Louis invited me for.
Caleb had picked us up from the house and we were now en route. I was so beyond curious about where we were heading. It didn't help that he wasn't saying anything.
I looked over at him at the back of the car, his eyes focused on his tablet in his hands. Probably work again. He was such a diligent CEO, it's no wonder he grew the company to what it was now.
He was clad in a semi casual outfit, black pants with a dark blue polo shirt. The sleeve hugged tight to his peeking biceps.
I couldn't help but swallow at the sight, he was so good looking it was almost ridiculous. I even felt almost overdressed compared to him. But it didn't matter much, this man could be dressed in plain clothes and still look good.
I force myself to look away, trying to enjoy the silence, my eyes scanning through the road as we drive past. I couldn't help but wonder where we were going for dinner.
I'd spent most of the time on transit thinking about Louis and the way his touch had sparked something in me, how he stared at me earlier. At my lips. Like he wanted nothing more in that moment.
The humbling realization that I'd have let him have me, if he asked.
I shake my head as if to rid myself of the thoughts of him.
After a while, I genuinely couldn't take it anymore. I had to ask.
"Uhm… So, where are we headed?," I asked quietly, glancing at him, but Louis didn't respond, not in a way I'd appreciate at least.
"You'd see," he said simply, shutting down his tablet before glancing out the window.
After what seemed to be a long stretch of comfortable but thought-provoking silence, we arrived at the restaurant.
My lips part in quiet awe as I take it all in, my gaze sweeping over a space that feels less decorated and more deliberately crafted. The exterior was simply captivating, with a quiet elegance that draws you in before you even step closer.
But I also noticed that it was empty, no cars parked in the driveway, no one else in sight. I can't help but wonder if it's just not a popular place. Pity, it looked extremely expensive.
We walk in, and Louis ushers me forward, up the stairs, his hands settling briefly on my waist. I shudder slightly, my heart skipping a quiet beat at the contact.
"Careful," he said as he hoisted me gently up the stairs. My dress was quite tight fitting so I appreciated the gesture.
"Thank you."
I've been jumpy and jittery ever since the zipper situation back at the house.
I again recall Louis' touch on my skin, how it burned, how it left me oddly heated at the contact. The more I try to push it away, the more it festers in my mind.
Once inside, we were led to our table. The waiter ushered us forward into the finding area. He didn't even ask for a reservation.
I take in the interior, quietly appraising it. The place is beautiful, far too beautiful to be lacking customers.
Almost as if he reads my mind, Louis speaks.
"I rented out the whole place."
This took me by surprise, "What? Why?," I ask, in disbelief, "Aren't we just here to eat?"
He chuckled, "For privacy, we aren't exactly official yet. And yes, we are here to eat but that's not all we are here for."
We finally reach our designated spot, it was hard to miss. It was decorated, with a small card that said, 'Mr. & Mrs. Smith'
Reading it out in my mind sent a wave of flutters through me, this was all so unreal, I couldn't exactly believe it. Mrs. Smith. Claire Smith. It sounded too good, too real— for a very unreal and fake arrangement.
Louis pulls out my chair, and I immediately feel… special. It's all so unbelievable —my boss pulling out my chair. That doesn't happen often.
"Thank you," I murmur as I take my seat, my eyes following him as he rounds the table and settles across from me. There's something about the moment that feels unexpectedly intimate—quiet, close, and a little unsettling in a way I can't quite explain.
'What were we here for?,' I wondered as the waiter came to take our order.
After he left, Louis spoke, and the comment left me speechless and weak, "I shouldn't have waited this long to say this but You look really beautiful tonight, Claire."
My face blooms with a genuine smile, heat rises up my neck to my cheeks as I awkwardly play with the napkins on the table.
"Thank you. So do you." I glance at him as he lets out a cheeky smile.
"Oh, I'm sure I look rather beautiful tonight."
I gasp, I'm sure my cheeks are now completely stained pink, "No, I meant you look good.. Handsome."
"I know Claire, I was just messing with you."
The way he says my name right there just does something to me.
And I'm left with one thought.
Maybe this was going to work out just fine after all.
Louis' POV
Our food arrived after a few minutes, Claire had gotten a simple meal, Bolognese pasta. I, on the other hand, settled for an easy and simple truffle mashed potatoes with a side of pan seared salmon.
Under the warm glow of the restaurant lights, I find myself admiring Claire more than I should. It isn't intentional, at least not at first, but my gaze keeps drifting back to her like a bad reflex.
She looks… different tonight. Unreal and just so beautiful.
Not in a way I can easily explain, but enough to make me notice. Claire has always been beautiful, that's never been in question but tonight, there's something more.
The way the light catches against her skin, the way her outfit fits her like it was chosen for this exact moment—it all comes together in a way that makes her look almost… radiant. Even the way she ate was elegant.
I'm not used to seeing her like this.
And maybe that's why it's throwing me off.
For a moment, I forget where I am. Forget what this is supposed to be. I couldn't even properly eat my food.
Then reality settles back in.
The garden. I messed up pretty badly there.
My expression tightens slightly at the memory, the earlier tension replaying in my mind with uncomfortable clarity. The way I shut her down when she mentioned my parents—it had been immediate and definitely colder than I intended.
I hadn't even tried to soften it.
A flicker of guilt stirs in my chest.
She didn't deserve that.
My fingers tighten slightly around my cutlery before I settle it down as I consider my next move. I'm not used to explaining myself. Not about things like that. But this… this feels different.
If we're going to keep up this arrangement, the least I can do is make sure she's not walking on eggshells around me. I initiated this whole arrangement and I needed to ensure she was comfortable.
I exhale quietly, deciding.
"About earlier today… at the garden—"
"Yes—no, I'm sorry," she interjects, dropping her cutlery.
Her voice cuts in gently but quickly, stopping me before I can even finish. My brows draw together slightly as I look at her.
"It wasn't my place to ask," she continues, her tone calm, composed—too composed. "And I'm sure if we ever have to meet them, you would inform me." She pauses briefly, then adds, "I apologize for jumping the gun."
My brows knit together. That's not..
"No… no," I say quickly, leaning forward just a little. I try to explain myself. "That's not it. It's just—"
"Please," she cuts in again, softer this time, but just as firm. "You don't have to explain anything to me."
The words land heavier than they should and so I stop.
"I understand," she adds, offering a small, polite smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.
"Your relationship with your parents is none of my business. We have an agreement, and it was to convince your grandparents." A slight tilt of her head. "You don't owe me anything beyond that."
And just like that, the moment closes.
I lean back slowly, the words I had been ready to say fading before they ever leave my mouth. For a second, I just watch her but she's already looking away, her attention drifting to the neatly arranged table setting like the conversation is already behind her.
Something about that doesn't sit right with me. I must have pushed her further than I realized.
"Okay then," I say finally, my voice quieter, more restrained.
The space between us settles into a strange kind of silence—not tense, not quite comfortable either. Just… there.
She's the one who breaks it.
"So… is there a reason we are here?"
I nod once, gathering myself, shifting into something more controlled.
"Yeah. Sure." I glance at her briefly before continuing. "After what happened earlier, you know, with my grandpa drilling you, I figured we should get our stories straight before we have to convince anyone."
Her gaze returns to me, a flicker of understanding crossing her expression.
"Oh…okay. That is understandable."
A small pause follows.
I tapped my fingers lightly against the table, the sound barely audible, I was getting more nervous than I would like to admit. For a moment, I consider just leaving it at that—keeping things strictly about the arrangement, clean and simple.
That would be easier, safer. No expectations, no need to press into each other's privacy.
But something about the way she shut me out earlier lingers in the back of my mind.
I exhale quietly.
"So…" I start, my voice slower this time. "Let's get to know each other better?"