Page 8 of Arranged with Twins

Sienna

T he black dress Mother sent over this morning hangs in my closet like an accusation.

It’s conservative, safe, and utterly drab.

The accompanying note was written in her precise handwriting: “Perfect for tonight’s dinner.

Understated elegance is always appropriate.

” Translation: Wear what I picked or face the music.

Funeral music, perhaps.

I stare at the dress while sipping my afternoon coffee, weighing rebellion against peace.

The smart choice would be to comply, smile prettily, and let Leo present whatever ring he’s selected without making waves.

The choice that feels authentic would be to wear something I actually like, that reflects who I am rather than who Mother thinks I should be.

This isn’t a goddamn funeral, after all. I’m not that angry to be marrying Leo.

The doorbell rings, saving me from my internal debate. Nadia arrives with her arms full of garment bags and her signature enthusiasm.

“Emergency styling session,” she says, breezing past me into the bedroom. “I saw your text about your dinner tonight, and I refuse to let you wear whatever conservative nightmare Katherine picked out.”

I smile. “How did you know she picked something out?”

Nadia shoots me a look that suggests the question answers itself. “Because she’s Katherine Cooper, and controlling your wardrobe is like breathing to her. Show me what she sent.”

I gesture toward the closet, and she examines the black dress with the expression someone might wear while inspecting roadkill.

“Absolutely not. This is a dress for a funeral, not a romantic dinner with your devastatingly handsome fiancé.” She starts unzipping her garment bags like she’s on a mission. “I brought options.”

I let out a long sigh of relief.

The first option is a deep navy sheath dress that’s beautiful but still feels too much like something of which Mother would approve. The second is a burgundy wrap dress that’s lovely but somehow doesn’t feel right either. When Nadia pulls out the third option, I know immediately it’s perfect.

“This is a black velvet blouse with a red silk skirt I designed for a client who didn’t have the money when it came time to pick it up, so her loss is your gain,” she says, holding up the pieces.

“The outfit is bold, sophisticated, and guaranteed to make Katherine have palpitations. Plus… you might just get the oh-so-composed Leo to lose his cool and start tripping over his words.”

That makes me laugh as I examine the pieces.

The blouse is cut beautifully, with a subtle sheen that catches the light without being flashy.

The skirt is the color of good wine in flowing silk that moves like water when I touch it.

Together, they create something striking and confident.

“I love it,” I say, already reaching for the outfit. “Mother will hate it.”

“Good. You’re not dressing for Katherine tonight. You’re dressing for yourself, and maybe a little bit for Leo.” Nadia grins. “From what I could see in the photos, he appreciates when you wear things that actually suit your personality.”

The reminder of Leo’s defense of my yellow dress at brunch makes me feel warm as I recount the moment for my friend. He didn’t have to support my choice, especially when it would have been easier to stay neutral, but he did it anyway.

I’m not sure I’m ready for that conversation about whether this could become something real, so I focus on getting dressed instead.

The velvet blouse fits perfectly, skimming my curves without being too fitted.

The silk skirt swirls around my legs when I move, making me feel elegant and confident in ways Mother’s conservative choices never do.

“Perfect,” Nadia declares, stepping back to assess the full look. “You look like yourself, which is exactly what you should look like.” She goes to my closet and emerges with a seldom-worn pair of black ankle boots in velvet similar to the blouse. “And these.”

I eye them doubtfully. “The heel is a little high…”

She waves a hand. “Not a problem. You’re going to kill it in these.”

As long as they don’t kill me. I take the boots and sit down to slip them on.

They fit well and add four inches to my height.

I wobble a minute when I stand, since I’m not used the height of the heel or the slender stiletto design, but once Nadia steadies me, I walk until they feel comfortable.

“Killing it,” I say with a thumbs-up and an almost manic laugh.

Nadia grins. “You are.” She snaps a picture with her phone just as mine buzzes. “I need a pic of this for my portfolio.”

I walk over to it without killing myself to see a text from Leo: “Car will be there in ten minutes. Looking forward to tonight.”

The message is polite and impersonal, which is exactly what I should expect from a business arrangement. Yet something about the phrase “looking forward to tonight” feels warmer than necessary.

“He’s almost here,” I tell Nadia, checking my reflection one final time.

“You look incredible. Just remember you deserve to be treated well, engagement ring or no engagement ring, and business merger or whatever.” Nadia hugs me quickly. “Call me tomorrow with every single detail.”

Leo is waiting by his car when I emerge from the building, and his expression changes when he sees my outfit. His appreciative smile suggests Nadia was right about choosing something that reflects my personality.

“You look beautiful,” he says, offering me his arm. “That color is stunning on you.”

I blush. “Thank you. I hope it’s appropriate for wherever we’re going.”

“It’s perfect,” he assures me as he helps me into the car. “We have reservations at Le Bernardin. I thought you might enjoy their tasting menu.”

The choice surprises me. Le Bernardin is one of the most prestigious restaurants in the city.

It’s somewhere I’ve been for special occasions but never on what’s supposed to be a romantic evening.

The fact that Leo chose something sophisticated rather than obviously romantic suggests he’s putting real thought into this dinner.

The restaurant is everything I remember, being elegant, intimate, and clearly expensive. We’re seated at a table that provides privacy while still being visible to other diners, which is the perfect balance for a romantic dinner that needs to look genuine while serving practical purposes.

The conversation flows more easily than I expected.

Leo asks thoughtful questions about my time in London and my interests beyond what appears in society page profiles, and I find myself talking about things I rarely discuss with anyone except Nadia.

When I mention how much I admire Nadia’s work and my own interest in fashion, possibly combining it with ethical sourcing from women-owned businesses, he doesn’t dismiss it as a frivolous hobby.

“What’s stopping you from pursuing it?” he asks, appearing genuinely curious.

“Family expectations, financial dependence, and having no real business experience beyond academic theory.” I list the obstacles that have always seemed insurmountable. “Now this engagement, which changes my available options again.”

He frowns. “Marriage doesn’t have to mean the end of your ambitions. The right partnership could actually make them more achievable. You’re not trapped.”

The suggestion that he might support my professional goals rather than expecting me to abandon them gives me a bit more optimism in how I view our arrangement. Most men my parents have introduced me to assumed I’d be content with charity work and social obligations.

Oh, yeah, and having their babies. It’s not something Leo and I have talked about, but I’m also glad he hasn’t brought it up. For some reason, my other suitors were eager to turn me into an incubator on day one.

Our conversation is interrupted when Leo signals the server and asks for champagne. “I believe we have something to celebrate.”

The server returns with a bottle of Dom Pérignon and two glasses, setting the stage for what I realize is about to be a very public proposal. We probably should have done this before the party, but perhaps the ring wasn’t ready before.

Leo reaches into his jacket pocket and withdraws a small velvet box, and there’s a flutter of excitement even though this isn’t real.

“Sienna,” he says, his voice carrying across the quiet restaurant, “You’ve made me happier than I ever thought possible.”

The words are clearly for the benefit of other diners, but when he opens the box, my reaction is entirely genuine.

The ring is absolutely stunning. It’s a large circular diamond surrounded by smaller orange diamonds that catch the candlelight like flames.

It’s daring, unique, and completely different from what I expected.

“It’s gorgeous,” I say almost in a whisper, unable to hide my amazement. “Leo, it’s perfect. I couldn’t have chosen a better one if I’d done it myself.”

“I’m glad you like it. I have to confess, I originally chose something much more conservative, but then I realized you deserved something as unique as you are.” He smiles as he says that, which makes it sound like praise rather than criticism that I’m not the traditional woman he expected.

The admission that he changed his choice specifically makes my chest constrict. He went out of his way to select something he thought I’d actually like rather than simply choosing the most expensive option. He had no reason to do it, but he did.

I shake my head in wonder. “You went back and picked out a different ring?”

He shrugs, looking faintly embarrassed. “I wanted to give you something that would make you smile every time you looked at it.” He takes my hand and slides the ring onto my finger. “You deserve to have beautiful things that actually suit you.”