Page 30 of Lucas

Cora might be a Valeur, might be the sister of the man I’m being forced to marry, but right now, she feels like a friend. And that’s something I desperately need, even if I can’t fully trust her.

So, I smile, and I laugh, and I share stories about my foul-mouthed parrot as we make our way to lunch, determined to hold onto this feeling for as long as I can. Right now, in this moment, I’m just Ava. Not a Gant, not a bride-to-be, just a girl laughing with a friend.

And that’s enough. For now, it’s enough.

We arrive at the small, unassuming restaurant, the delicious scent of home-cooked food wafting out to greet us.

“What is this place?” I look around, taking in the humble surroundings. “I have to admit, this isn’t what I expected.”

“Don’t judge by appearances. They have the most delicious food in the area here. The owner cooks everything himself. When the pot is empty, there’s no more. Let’s hope there are still meatballs left.” She winks.

She orders the meatballs in sauce, cheering when the server tells her there are some left, and I order the same thing. I have to taste it to understand the fuss.

“So what’s this about a warehouse you want to show me?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me as we wait for our food.

“All the special items are in my private warehouse. If you want to be involved in the overall design, I’ll take you there so you can see for yourself. You don’t have to, of course. Most couples prefer I choose alone. That’s what they pay me for.” She shrugs, taking a sip of her water.

I nod. I had researched her company before we met. Her designs are impressive, no doubt, and she’s well-known. Lucas wasn’t lying when he said she was one of the best in the business.

The server arrives and places large bowls of meatballs and bread in front of us. I snort when I remember what I did with the bread yesterday.

“What’s so funny?” Cora glances up at me, a questioning look on her face.

“I was thinking about my meal with your brother the other day and how unlike this meal it was.” I taste the meatball and moan in delight. “God, what do they put in this? How is it so delicious?”

“Right?” Cora grins. “I’ve been trying to figure out the secret ingredient for years, but I can’t. What do you think about my brother’s estate? Did you like it?”

I pause mid-chew, swallowing hard. “I haven’t been there.” I take another bite of the divine meatball. “But I can imagine. He’s very extravagant, so I assume the estate is like that too.” Meaning, not tomy taste.

“Yes, it’s huge.” Cora sighs. “I thought you were moving in with him.”

“After the wedding. But I haven’t seen it yet,” I confirm, my appetite suddenly diminishing at the thought.

“How could you move into a place you haven’t even seen?” Cora wrinkles her nose until a small crease appears between her eyebrows.

“It’s not like I have choices, remember? It’s all in the contract.” The smile vanishes from my face. I sold my life for two years. It sounds so...final. So inescapable.

Cora reaches across the table and places her hand on mine, her expression sympathetic. “I’m sorry. My brother can be a real jerk.”

I pull my hand back, not ready for the comfort, the pity. I’m not sure I can trust her after one day. It’s entirely possible she’s going straight from here to tell her brother every word I’ve said. Not that it matters, the contract is already signed. Everything is already settled. There’s no way back.

“It’s okay,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “I signed the contract of my free will.” Even if that will was heavily influenced by my father’s desperation.

“Well, just so you know, I was angry when I heard about his plan. I mean, don’t get me wrong, a big part of the anger was because you’re a Gant, and I didn’t understand what he had to do with the Gant family, but also because I don’t think a contract marriage is a good idea. It’s primitive.” She shakes her head in disgust. “It’s like we’ve gone back to the Middle Ages or something.”

“And what do you think of me now?” I ask, my voice harder than I intended. “I’m still a Gant.”

She shrugs. “I like you. I haven’t decided yet if I can trustyou, we don’t know each other well enough, but I’ve enjoyed today,” she says, her gaze direct.

“Me too.” Her words echo my own thoughts from earlier. We’re more similar than I expected.

“So, what do your parents think about the wedding?” Cora asks, changing the subject.

I stiffen, my hand tightening around my fork. “My mother passed away when she gave birth to me,” I say, my voice steady despite the old ache in my chest.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” Cora’s face falls, sympathy shining in her eyes.

“It’s okay. I never knew her. There’s nothing to be sorry about. And Father, well, you could say he forced me to go along with this.” I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant like it doesn’t cut me to the bone.