Gold's fingers tightened slightly around the strap of her bag as she sat.
The room was too quiet.
Not the comfortable kind.
The kind that pressed in on you… made you aware of every breath, every shift, every second passing too slowly.
Her eyes moved once—just briefly—taking in the space again.
Everything about the lounge screamed wealth without trying. Dark polished floors, wide glass windows stretching from wall to wall, soft leather seats arranged with too much space between them, like privacy itself was part of the design.
Even the air felt… expensive.
Gold swallowed.
So this is his world…
Her chest rose slowly, then fell.
Beside her earlier, Lina had been there—warm, distracting, steady.
Now?
Nothing.
Just her.
And him.
Or at least… his presence.
Because she hadn't fully seen him yet.
Not properly.
Her fingers tightened again.
Then—
"Have a seat."
The voice came from behind her.
Low.
Calm.
Firm in a way that didn't need volume to be obeyed.
Gold froze.
Her heartbeat stumbled—then picked up again, faster this time.
Slowly…
She turned.
At first, her eyes didn't catch everything.
Just a figure.
Tall.
Still.
Standing near the wide glass window, the light from outside falling across him like it belonged there.
Then her vision adjusted.
And she saw him.
Properly.
Her breath caught—soft, barely there.
He stood with his back slightly turned, one hand resting inside his pocket, the other hanging loosely by his side. The white shirt he wore was clean, sharp… sitting against his body with quiet precision. Not tight, not loose—just enough to follow the natural lines of him.
When he shifted slightly, the fabric drew faintly across his chest and midsection, hinting at something solid beneath.
Controlled strength.
Not loud.
Not exaggerated.
Just… there.
Her eyes moved slowly.
Up.
His shoulders were broad, carrying the shirt with an effortless ease that spoke of structure, not effort. The sleeves were rolled just below his elbows, exposing firm forearms, the faint trace of veins resting beneath smooth skin.
There was something exact about him.
Nothing misplaced.
Nothing careless.
Even the way he stood—still, grounded—felt intentional.
Like every movement he made had already been decided before it happened.
Then—
He turned.
This time, Gold couldn't stop it.
Her breath hitched.
His face came fully into view, and for a brief second… her thoughts scattered.
OMG.
That was the first thing that settled in her mind.
His features were clean, defined—his jawline structured, his cheekbones subtle but present, giving his face a natural edge that carried no softness.
His lips rested in a neutral line.
Not welcoming.
Not cold.
Just… controlled.
But his eyes—
Gold felt it the moment they met hers.
Dark.
Steady.
Unmoving in a way that made it hard to hold his gaze… and harder to look away.
They didn't search her.
Didn't hesitate.
They settled on her like he had already formed an opinion—one she wasn't aware of.
A small tension formed in her chest.
Unfamiliar.
Uncomfortable.
Her fingers tightened around her bag.
Focus.
She straightened slightly, lifting her chin just enough to steady herself.
Don't look intimidated.
Don't.
He watched her.
Quiet.
Unreadable.
Then—
"So… you're the girl my parents were talking about."
His voice was calm.
Flat.
Like he was confirming something already decided.
Gold held his gaze for a second longer than she felt comfortable with.
Then—
"…And you already knew that."
Her voice came out soft
.
Careful.
But not weak.
A pause.
Something flickered in his eyes—quick, almost nonexistent.
Gone before she could understand it.
He moved.
Slow steps.
Unhurried.
The kind that made the space feel smaller without him doing anything at all.
Gold sat, her back straight, her hands returning to her bag.
She could feel it now.
The weight in the room.
Thicker.
More real.
He took the seat across from her.
Leaning back slightly.
Still watching.
Silence stretched.
Then—
"How old are you?"
Her heart skipped.
Just once.
She didn't answer immediately.
A small pause—
"Twenty-two."
He nodded once.
Minimal.
"School?"
"I just finished."
Another nod.
Like it matched whatever expectation he had.
Then—
"Do you understand why you're here?"
That one landed heavier.
Gold looked at him.
Really looked this time.
Then she shook her head slightly.
"No."
Honest.
Quiet.
Firm.
Something shifted again in his gaze.
Not soft.
Just… aware.
He leaned back a little more.
Still composed.
"This marriage," he said, his voice even, "is not my choice."
Gold's fingers pressed lightly into her bag.
She nodded once.
"I figured."
A pause.
Then he added—
"But it's happening."
Final.
Certain.
No space left to argue.
Silence settled between them again.
But now—
It wasn't just quiet.
It was heavy.
Intentional.
Like something had already been decided long before either of them walked into the room.
Gold drew in a slow breath.
Then let it out.
Her voice came softer this time—
"…Then why ask questions?"
For the first time—
He reacted.
Not fully.
But enough.
A faint shift at the corner of his mouth.
Not quite a smile.
Not quite anything.
"Because," he said calmly, his gaze steady on hers, "I don't like walking into situations without knowing what I'm dealing with."
The words were simple.
But they sat with weight.
Gold felt something tighten slightly in her chest again.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
Something else.
Something she didn't want to name.
She held his gaze anyway.
Quiet.
Steady.
And for the first time since she walked in—
She didn't look away first.
Martins' gaze lingered on her for a second longer.
Not soft.
Not harsh.
Just… steady.
Then he stood.
The movement was smooth, unhurried—like everything else about him.
Gold's eyes followed him without thinking.
He adjusted his sleeve slightly, his expression returning to that same unreadable calm.
"This arrangement," he said, his voice low, final, "will go on whether we like it or not."
A pause.
Then his eyes met hers again.
"But don't misunderstand something."
Gold felt her breath catch slightly.
Not fear.
Just… awareness.
"You don't have to like me."
His tone didn't change.
"If anything…"
A faint pause.
"…it might make things easier."
Something about the way he said it settled heavily in the room.
Not mocking.
Not kind.
Just truth—his own version of it.
Gold swallowed.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her bag as she slowly stood.
For a second, she didn't move.
Didn't speak.
She just looked at him.
Really looked this time.
Not just the man in front of her…
But the weight behind him.
The world he belonged to.
The life she was about to step into.
This… is who I'm supposed to marry?
The thought didn't come with panic.
Or excitement.
Just something quiet.
Something deep.
Something uncertain.
She gave a small nod.
Not submissive.
Not agreeing.
Just… acknowledging.
"I understand."
Her voice was soft.
But steady.
A brief silence passed between them.
Then—
A knock came at the door.
Sharp.
Controlled.
Like everything else in this place.
Gold exhaled slowly.
She didn't realize she had been holding her breath.
And as she turned to leave—
She felt it.
Not his voice.
Not movement.
Just—
His eyes on her.
She didn't turn back.
But somehow…
She knew.
This wasn't over.
Not even close.