By the ti Cherry sent Alia ho, the sun had already set and the skies were dark. The apartnt was completely empty, and Alia had to reach through the dark to look for the switches as she wasn’t quite familiar with the layout of the house yet.
Light chatter ca from the second floor of the penthouse, and following it, Alia climbed upstairs only to find herself in front of the door that led to Matteo’s study. It was left ajar, and when she peered in, she could see Ronan pacing back and forth while Matteo sat in his seat, calmly reviewing his docunts.
As though he could sense her there, he looked up and their gazes instantly t. Alia stilled, watching as Ronan stopped his speech as well to look at what had caught Matteo’s attention.
"Miss Kentwood," Ronan said, his eyes widening. He made his way over and opened the door, allowing Alia access.
"You’re back," Matteo said plainly, and instantly, Alia felt guilt wash over her. She hadn’t inford him that they would be out shopping, and while Cherry had already kept Matteo up to date, Alia felt mildly sheepish for neglecting her duty.
"There are so things we need to discuss," Matteo casually said, placing the docunts on the desk before he stood up. He made his way over to the cabinets and reached for the glasses, pouring himself a shot of whiskey.
"That is putting it mildly," Ronan scoffed under his breath. "Do you even realize the ss that you’ve created?"
"None of my own free will," Matteo calmly replied before placing the glass against his lips and taking a sip of the alcoholic beverage. His eyes remained fixated on Alia, and she felt a blush creep onto her cheeks with how intensely Matteo stared at her.
"What happened?" Alia asked. She turned to Ronan, breaking her gaze from Matteo. "Is sothing wrong?" Then, she paled. "It’s not my father, is it?"
"Mr. Kentwood is in great condition," Ronan said with a sigh. "The doctors are expecting his full recovery in less than a week. He should be discharged very soon, earlier than expected."
"Is it the press then?" Alia asked worriedly. Her interaction with Caleb sat in a very brightly lit corner of her mind― an area that made it difficult for her to forget.
"You could say that," Ronan replied with a scoff. "There will be plenty of press present at the event, that’s for sure."
Alia frowned, her eyebrows pressing tightly together at his words, though she said nothing. Instead, this ti, she turned her attention to Matteo, willing him to explain.
"There will be an engagent party thrown in two weeks’ ti. You will be attending as my fiancée," Matteo plainly said.
His words nearly caused Alia’s eyes to bulge right out of her sockets.
"Two weeks?" Alia exclaid in surprise. "That’s... very sudden."
"Don’t forget the most important detail!" Ronan scoffed sarcastically. "Even though you’re attending as his fiancée, my darling Alia, you are not the bride-to-be that the party will be celebrating, even though Matteo here is indeed the groom-to-be!"
Good heavens. Alia felt faint. She imdiately recalled the phone call Matteo had received back in the hospital. This sudden celebration most certainly had sothing to do with that.
"I will have no other bride," Matteo said, his expression stoic and unchanging. He returned to his seat, leaning against the backrest while he evenly t Ronan’s gaze.
"Tell that to every news website that has your na and Emline Hawthorne’s na plastered across their headlines!" Ronan gritted out. "How will you explain it to them without making yourself look like a two-timing bastard? You know how that mother of yours can be, and she will no doubt spin it into a tale of how you’ve cheated on the Hawthorne princess for a waitress!"
Ronan then quickly spun to a jaw-slacked Alia.
"No offense," he said.
"Is that why you need to act as your fiancée?" Alia boldly asked. "You needed a way out of the engagent with her, did you not?"
The question had been hovering in her head for quite so ti― she couldn’t wrap her head around why Matteo Montgory, who could have any woman he wanted, would choose to tie himself down with her, a simple girl with nothing to her na unless he had sothing to gain from it.
Was Emline Hawthorne so detestable that Matteo would pick Alia over her?
Ronan and Matteo exchanged a look before eventually, Matteo slowly nodded once.
"Yes," he said. "My parents are insistent I marry the Hawthorne heiress as a business move. I have not once agreed to it, nor have they officially brought this topic up. As far as I know―" he shot Ronan a look, "―I am not engaged to Emline Hawthorne."
He then turned his attention back to Alia.
"This party will also be the perfect opportunity to introduce you to everyone and hamr down the fact that you’re my bride. No one else."
Alia bit her bottom lip. How could she show up to the event under such circumstances? In everyone’s eyes, she would be labeled as a gold-digger who seduced Matteo! No one in Matteo’s circle would take her kindly, least of all the Waltons and Friesents.
Her run-in with Caleb earlier today had left a sour taste in her mouth. Alia would have preferred to never see him again, but she knew deep down, that was impossible. Still, she had to ask. "Caleb and Kelsie would be there, wouldn’t they?"
Matteo nodded, a small scowl on his face. "Emline invited them as her honored guests."
"And you want to accompany you to this event, where I will effectively be upstaging Emline at her own engagent party with them in attendance?" Alia asked faintly. "This is insanity!"
This was as good as declaring war against Emline Hawthorne!
"Why not just host a different party before theirs to get the news out?" Alia continued, panicked. "Surely it can’t be wise to make an enemy out of the Hawthornes? This is tantamount to spitting in their face!"
If another woman showed up during her engagent party claiming to be the bride in question, Alia would have exploded in anger. She did not want to know what retaliation an heiress could deliver against her when scorned. Matteo might co out unscathed, but Alia would be thrown into the trenches!
However, Matteo had an expression of calm. He gestured to the invitation card.
"Everything will be fine."
Alia warily reached out for the invitation card. The silver-colored envelope slled faintly like vanilla, and when she opened it, out pulled a matching card with cursive writing.
Her eyes widened as she glazed over the words.
"As you can see," Matteo said, "no nas are ntioned. It doesn’t say who is engaged to who, only that there is a union between the Montgorys and the Hawthornes."
Alia’s gaze lifted from the card before squinting in Matteo’s direction.
"You’re not expecting to pretend to be a Hawthorne heiress are you?" Alia squawked. "Identity theft is a cri!"
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