Diana Bell looked at William Knight's strikingly handsome face and replied, "You have such a devastatingly unique presence, Mr. Knight. If we had met before, I'm certain I would have remembered."
William felt the same.
Diana's face was vividly radiant, her fox-like eyes upturned at the corners with a captivating allure. Every gesture she made exuded a natural elegance that commanded the room's attention instantly. She was, by all accounts, unforgettable.
Beyond her features, her silhouette was equally striking—tall and slender, with a waist so delicate it looked as though it might snap under a firm grip, yet possessing curves in all the right places.
For a woman with such distinct style and magnetism, William should have had a clear memory of her. And yet, from the moment he saw her, a wave of inexplicable familiarity had washed over him.
Under his unwavering gaze, which felt as physical as a flickering flame, Diana felt her cheeks begin to burn. To break the rising tension, she asked, "What do you usually do for fun, Mr. Knight?"
William's long fingers traced the rim of his coffee cup. He parted his thin lips and said simply, "I make money."
Diana blinked, then let out a soft laugh. "What a coincidence. So do I."
"I love the sense of control that comes with work, and I enjoy the achievement of accumulating wealth," William's voice was deep and melodic. "Other than that, my only real hobby is ensuring my partner has the best material security possible."
Diana arched an eyebrow. The "bait" this man was throwing out was almost too blunt to refuse.
William leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes locking onto hers. He cut straight to the chase. "If you marry me, as a form of compensation, I will transfer the title of the 1,200-square-meter estate at Peak View to your name. You'll have a private chauffeur with a custom Porsche at your disposal, and a domestic team to handle all chores. Additionally, your monthly allowance will be fixed at 200,000, with no upper limit for extra expenses."
In the natural world, this was the equivalent of a peacock fanning its feathers or a lion surveying its territory—a candid display of his survival and reproductive dominance.
He didn't find talking about money vulgar. Since this was an alliance, he intended to give his partner the utmost dignity and security.
But he also had his boundaries.
"Miss Bell, I must inform you upfront: ninety percent of my life is focused on my career. Business trips and international conferences are the norm. I cannot provide the emotional labor or constant companionship of a typical husband," William said, his gaze cool and honest. "My ideal marriage is one of mutual respect and non-interference. Can you accept that?"
Diana suppressed a smile. Wasn't this the ultimate dream?
No need to reply to messages instantly, no need to track his phone—just two people getting what they need while maintaining the prestige of their houses. To her, this sounded like paradise.
"Mr. Knight, that is exactly the kind of arrangement I'm looking for," Diana said with a bright smile. She added proactively, "Regarding asset separation, do we need to sign a prenuptial agreement?"
William gave her a look of quiet approval. "Yes."
Diana wasn't surprised. The Knight family's fortune was measured in the hundreds of billions; the foundations of such a dynasty naturally required protection. She was clear-headed—she didn't crave what wasn't hers. As long as she held onto the compensation offered, she would live a life of absolute freedom.
"You're a smart woman, Miss Bell." William's lips curled into a ghost of a smile. "Since our goals are aligned and neither of us wants to waste time on meaningless blind dates... if you have no objections, let's go get the license now."
Diana elegantly pulled her documents from her designer handbag. "What a coincidence. I brought mine with me."
The coffee shop doors swung open, and William stepped out.
Inside the Rolls-Royce, the assistant was slapping his thigh in excitement. "Told you! I knew this match would blow up! With Lord Knight's personality, what woman could stand him? Pay up, pay up!"
The driver, face darkened, was about to reach for his phone to transfer the money when he caught a glimpse of the sidewalk. He froze.
Under the scorching sun, William Knight was actually holding the glass door open, stepping aside with refined gallantry to escort the woman in the red dress out.
The driver pulled his hand back, a grin spreading across his face. "The game isn't over yet, kid."
The assistant's eyes nearly popped out. William didn't just walk to the car; he hurried a few steps ahead to the passenger side.
As Diana reached for the door, a well-defined, cool hand beat her to the handle.
Their fingertips brushed briefly in the small space. Diana felt a faint jolt of electricity shoot up her arm, leaving a trail of tingling heat.
William held the door with one hand and placed the other carefully over the roof edge to ensure she didn't bump her head.
As Diana slid into the seat, the hem of her vibrant red dress brushed against the fabric of his black trousers—like a streak of wildfire licking at ice.
"Thank you." "It's my duty."
William closed the door and walked around to the other side. The assistant sat there like a statue—was this really the same Lord Knight who didn't even crack a smile during billion-dollar negotiations?
"Lord Knight, are we... heading back to the office for the meeting?" the assistant stammered.
"Cancel the entire afternoon schedule," William said coldly. "Go to the Bureau of Civil Affairs."
The assistant's legs turned to jelly. "The... the Bureau? Are you sure, sir?"
"I'm marrying Miss Bell. Is there a problem?"
The driver suppressed a laugh and floored the accelerator. Ten thousand bucks—easy money.
The Rolls-Royce sped down the boulevard, passing a hurried figure on the sidewalk.
Aurora Stone was wearing a brand-new white lace dress she'd just picked up, teetering on a pair of blistering Chanel heels. She'd even applied thick foundation just to look fairer, fully convinced she was the only winner in this race.
Through the dark, bulletproof glass, Diana watched the shadow of the girl who fancied herself a "pure" innocent. Her red lips curled into a mocking sneer.
Noticing her gaze, William glanced out the window. He didn't even register Aurora's face; he looked away as if she were a mere speck of dust.
Aurora stopped at the coffee shop entrance, took a deep breath, and checked her makeup in her compact. To secure this date, her mother, Catherine Archer, had used every connection she had to get Aurora on the Knight family's list.
She heard Lord Knight was a cold man, so she assumed he'd prefer a gentle, harmless "Little White Flower." She had her disguise perfected.
She walked in and headed straight for Table 6.
However, the noble, icy man she expected wasn't there. Aurora adjusted her skirt, intentionally showing off the curve of her pale legs, her anxiety rising.
Half an hour passed. The seat remained empty.
"Mom, what's going on? Where is William Knight?" Aurora hissed into her phone from the bathroom.
Catherine soothed her on the other end. "Don't worry. A man of Lord Knight's status is bound to be busy. If he agreed to meet you, he'll show up."
Aurora gritted her teeth, forcing her face back into a look of pathetic vulnerability. "Fine. I'll wait. He's not getting away."
At the Bureau, in front of a bright red backdrop.
The photographer shouted, "Hey, bride! That red dress clashes too much with the background. It won't look good. Go change into a white shirt—there are communal ones in the back."
Diana went into the cramped changing room, only to find the lock was broken. No matter how she pulled it, there was a gap the width of a fist.
She hesitated, but then a tall shadow completely loomed over the doorway.
William stood with his back to the door, a silent and solid mountain of a man, shielding her from every prying eye and the noise of the hallway.
"Change. I'm here," his steady voice vibrated through the door, providing an unexpected sense of security.
Diana took a deep breath and began to slip out of her dress.
The faint sound of a zipper sliding down, the rustle of fabric against skin, the clink of the dress hitting the hook... every sound was amplified in the tiny space.
William stared at a patch of peeling paint on the opposite wall. His throat felt dry. Despite the air conditioning, the air suddenly felt stifling.
"I'm ready," Diana said, pushing the door open.
William turned. His gaze traveled from her slightly tousled hair down to the curves outlined by the white shirt. The visual cocktail of innocence and smoldering sensuality made his eyes darken by several shades.
"Let's go," he said, his voice a bit raspy.
They sat side-by-side on the bench, yet it felt like an ocean stood between them.
"Excuse me! Are you here to get married or to negotiate a treaty?" the photographer complained. "Get closer! Groom, put your arm around her!"
Just as Diana was about to move, a powerful arm hooked around her waist. William pulled her firmly into his side.
Her shoulder hit his solid chest, and the scent of cold cedarwood instantly overwhelmed her senses.
The shutter clicked.
In that moment, Diana felt the heat from the palm on her waist—it was searing, sending a tremor through her heart. Her own hands were slick with a thin layer of sweat.
Later, as she changed back into her red dress, Diana looked at her flushed reflection in the mirror.
She looked at the gap in the door, then out at the man who was currently signing the final documents. A very practical, very real question popped into her head:
The license is signed. The legal bond is set. So tonight...
Am I supposed to sleep with him tonight?