Chapter 9: Ryan’s First Move

I wake up to 247 notifications. My phone has been buzzing nonstop since six AM, which is why I finally gave up on sleep and checked it. Big mistake. The photo from last night has exploded. Not just on Mia’s blog. Everywhere. E! News. People Magazine. Something called “Elite Society Watch” that I didn’t know existed. And the comments. Oh god, the comments. “Who is she?” “Gold digger alert” “She’s actually pretty cute” “Way too ordinary for Adrian Knight” I’m about to throw my phone across the room when it rings. Mia. “Have you seen it?” she shrieks before I can say hello. “All of it. I hate you a little bit right now.” “You love me. And you love that photo because you look gorgeous.” I can hear the grin in her voice. “My blog got fifteen thousand hits overnight. People are obsessed.” “People think I’m a gold digger.” “Some people. Other people think you’re Cinderella.” She pauses. “How are you actually doing?” I slump back. “I have brunch with his grandmother in two hours and I have no idea what to wear.” “You’ve got this. You already survived the red carpet. How much scarier can one grandmother be?” Famous last words. ----- Adrian picks me up at eight thirty sharp, looking unfairly put together in dark slacks and a white shirt. Casual elegance that probably took thirty seconds. I went through seven wardrobe changes. Sundress and cardigan. Trying too hard while pretending I’m not. “Good morning,” he says when I slide into the car. “Is it though?” He almost smiles. “You saw the photo.” “Hard to miss when it’s everywhere.” I buckle my seatbelt. “Your grandmother saw it too?” “She called me at six AM to tell me how photogenic we are.” His jaw tightens. “Among other things.” “What other things?” “Questions about your background. Your intentions.” He glances at me. “I told her she could ask you herself.” “How generous.” We drive in silence. Then: “You look nice.” I look down. “It’s from Target.” “I know. You’re relaxed.” The fact that he’s noticed makes my chest tight. “Adrian, about last night. The phone call—” “We don’t have to talk about it.” “You started to say something.” His hands tighten on the wheel. “I was tired. It was late.” “You said—” “I said we did well. We sold it. The photo proves it.” His voice is neutral. “The contract is working.” Right. The contract. “Of course,” I say. “Just business.” His phone buzzes. He glances at it and his expression darkens. “What’s wrong?” He shows me the screen. “Saw the photo. Really moving on fast, aren’t you? We should talk. - Ryan” My stomach drops. “He has your number?” “Company directory. I’ll have IT revoke it.” Adrian’s jaw is tight. “He doesn’t get to talk to you.” The protective edge surprises us both. “I’m not responding,” I say. “He doesn’t get to ruin today.” “Good.” Adrian pulls up to a building that screams old money. “Ready to meet Eleanor Knight?” “Absolutely not.” “Perfect. She’ll love that you’re honest.” The elevator requires a key and opens directly into the penthouse. “Grandmother prefers direct access,” Adrian murmurs. “Adrian, darling!” A voice rings out. “Stop lurking and bring her in!” Eleanor Knight sits at a dining table overlooking Central Park. Tiny, maybe five two, silver hair perfect, sharp eyes missing nothing. “So,” she says. “This is the girl who broke the internet.” I have no idea what to say. Eleanor’s lips twitch. “Relax, dear. I don’t bite. Much.” She gestures to a chair. “Sit. Let’s talk about why my grandson is suddenly dating someone he’s never mentioned.” I sit. “I’m Zara Bennett, Mrs. Knight. Lovely to meet you.” “Eleanor, please. Now, tell me how you met. The real story. Not whatever Victor told you to say.” I glance at Adrian. He gives the tiniest nod. Art gallery. Three months ago. Modern architecture. But Eleanor is watching with sharp eyes, testing if I’ll lie. “At a hotel,” I say instead. “About a month ago. I was breaking up with my ex at a company dinner. Adrian was there.” Eleanor’s eyebrows rise. She wasn’t expecting honesty. “How refreshingly specific. And you started dating immediately?” “Not immediately. He offered me coffee. We talked.” “How romantic.” Eleanor’s smile is knowing. “And this ex-boyfriend. The one texting my grandson this morning?” How does she know? “Ryan,” Adrian says tightly. “He’s been harassing Zara.” “Of course he has. Men always want what they’ve lost.” Eleanor turns to me. “And this Ryan called you ordinary?” I blink. “How do you…” “I have excellent sources. What an i***t. Anyone can see you’re anything but.” She takes a sip of tea. “Now, Zara Bennett. I’m going to ask you a question, and I want complete honesty.” “Okay.” “Are you in love with my grandson?” The room goes silent. Adrian freezes. Eleanor watches with those sharp eyes. Whatever I say next will change everything. “I…” My voice cracks. “We’ve only known each other a month.” “That’s not what I asked.” My heart pounds. The contract says no real feelings. But Eleanor is looking at me like she already knows. “I think,” I say carefully, “that your grandson is more than he pretends to be. And getting to know him has been unexpected.” Eleanor’s smile widens. “Diplomatic. I like that.” She turns to Adrian. “She’s sharp. Don’t let this one go.” “Grandmother—” “I’m not buying it, you know. This whole thing. The timing. The sudden public appearance.” Eleanor sets down her teacup. “You have three months to make it convincing. Or I’m intervening.” Three months. Not six. A deadline within our deadline. “And Zara? Whatever game you two are playing, be careful. Hearts are fragile things, even when we pretend they’re protected by paperwork.” She leaves us in stunned silence. “She knows,” I whisper. “She suspects.” Adrian’s face is pale. “But she can’t prove anything.” My phone buzzes. Ryan: “I know you’re with him right now. I saw the photo from the elevator. We need to talk. This isn’t real, Zara. You’re not this girl.” I show Adrian. His expression goes dark. “He’s watching you. That’s stalking.” “That’s Ryan.” “You didn’t just move on. You upgraded.” Adrian looks at me. “And he knows it.” The way he says it, with that edge of possession, makes my pulse race. His phone rings. Victor. He steps away. I’m left alone with Eleanor’s warning echoing. Three months to make it convincing. But make what convincing? The relationship? Or the lie that it’s not real? My phone buzzes again. Unknown: “Lovely brunch? Your ex seems upset. Can’t imagine why. - V” Vanessa. She’s been watching too. And suddenly I realize we’re not just acting for cameras. We’re being hunted.