Love at First Night: The Billionaire's First Love-Chapter 64: Business Dinner

>Mallory

"And... I didn’t inform you earlier because you left in a hurry," he added casually, his tone light, almost absent-minded, as though what he was about to say was nothing more than a minor detail he had forgotten to mention. He adjusted the napkin on his lap, his posture relaxed, shoulders loose, completely at ease in his seat.

"But we should make our marriage public soon." 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

"Huh?"

I lifted my head so fast my neck twinged, a sharp sting running down the side as my jaw dropped without me realizing it. For a moment, I could only stare at him, my thoughts lagging, my ears ringing slightly as I tried to process his words. The room felt too quiet, like even the air was waiting for my reaction.

For a second, I genuinely wondered if I had misheard him.

"Let’s announce our marriage," he repeated, this time more clearly, his eyes lifting to meet mine. His gaze was steady, unbothered, as if he had already expected this conversation to go his way.

After that, he calmly picked up his fork again, the metal making a faint sound against the plate. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

No. What is this man thinking? Our marriage? Public?

The sound of my palm hitting the table cut through the air, sharp and loud, making the dishes tremble slightly.

"Absolutely not." I snapped.

He stilled, his fork hovering in midair as if time itself had paused. Slowly, his brows drew together, not in anger, but in mild confusion, as though my reaction hadn’t even crossed his mind as a possibility. His eyes shifted back to my face, studying me more carefully now.

"Why not?" he asked.

Because it would ruin a lot of things for me, but I already knew he wouldn’t understand that.

The moment my name gets attached to this man, the internet would tear me apart piece by piece, digging into every part of my life until there was nothing left untouched. I don’t want that to happen.

I’ll never want to relate myself to that cursed family ever again.

I inhaled sharply, forcing myself to sit straighter and keep my voice steady. "It wasn’t stated in the contract," I said, deliberately setting my utensils down one by one, afraid that my shaking hands might give me away.

"And making it public will only complicate things when this marriage ends."

His jaw tightened at that, the relaxed look on his face disappearing. The faint crease between his brows deepened, his expression darkening as though I had said something he didn’t like hearing.

I hated having to say it like this, and I hated myself more that I needed to disagree with things he wanted. I wanted to repay him for everything he had done, one way or another, but this wasn’t what I had agreed to.

This can put my son in danger. He’ll be the target of that hate.

"When the contract ends?" he echoed, his voice lower now, clipped, like I struck a nerve that shouldn’t be touched. "You mean... divorce?"

The way he said it sent an odd chill down my spine, my fingers curling slightly against the edge of the table.

Is he seriously this dense? Did he not understand where I was coming from?

I nodded, setting my utensils lightly in the napkin.

"If the public finds out I was your wife," I continued, unable to keep the edge out of my voice, "I won’t be able to live normally afterward."

His gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. "So, you’re just worried about public opinion."

I let out a bitter laugh, the sound escaping before I could stop it. "Of course I am. You know how cruel people can be." I lifted my eyes to meet his. "The only reason they accepted Eleina was that she was beautiful, talented, and already adored."

I paused, my chest tightening. As much as I hate to admit it. They were a perfect match. Her personality is as rotten as it can be, but she was always known for being pretty, and she also came from a good family.

"I’m none of those things in their eyes."

Silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable. The faint hum of the lights above seemed louder than before.

That’s right, I’m the exact opposite.

I didn’t come from a good family. I didn’t have money. I had children outside of marriage. I can’t prove myself better than her the way I am now.

The truth sat heavily in my chest, pressing down until it hurt to breathe. I can’t afford to get myself attached to this pretend marriage.

I hated admitting it, but I don’t deserve someone like him.

A slight throb of pain bloomed in my chest, slow and dull. I didn’t understand why I felt disappointed with myself when I had already known all of this before marrying him. I had gone into this fully aware, yet the feeling still hurt.

I felt pathetic.

Then he spoke, his voice low, steady.

"You’re my wife," he said. "That alone should be enough."

The words hit harder than I expected, my fingers tightening unconsciously against my lap.

"And yet," he continued, his eyes locking onto mine, unblinking, "I don’t like the idea of you acting as if this marriage is something you can erase without consequence."

My fingers curled against the table, his words striking all the wrong places, places I tried not to think about.

Since when did he care about after?

I pushed my chair back and stood, the legs scraping softly against the floor as I reached down to lift Asher into my arms. His small weight grounded me, his arms wrapping around my shoulder without question. "You’re blurring lines that don’t need to exist."

He didn’t stop me. He didn’t care to argue either. He simply watched me with that same studying look he always had, his fingers tapping lightly against the table in a slow, thoughtful rhythm.

Then, as if he had made up his mind, he leaned back slightly, fingers steepled together, his gaze unreadable.

"You’re right," he said at last, clicking his tongue softly. "So let’s talk about something that does."

I frowned. "What now?"

"A partnership dinner," he replied. "Tomorrow night."

I arm tightened around my son’s body, tension creeping back into my shoulders.

"And?" I asked.

"And you’ll attend."

My body stiffened. I placed Asher gently on the floor, smoothing my hand over his hair and lowering my voice.

"Play in the living room. Mommy will come with you later." I smiled gently, pressing his cheeks.

My son nodded quickly, as if sensing the seriousness, his small feet carrying him away as he ran toward the living room. Once I was sure he had settled, I turned back to my husband.

"What if I don’t attend your business dinners?" I started.

"You will win this one."

My brows furrowed. "And if I said no?"

"It’s included in the contract since you wanted to be so specific about it," he replied. His tone had shifted completely now; all warmth he previously had was gone, replaced with the calm precision of dealing a business.

I felt like his words carried weight I couldn’t quite grasp.

"What part of the contract says that?" I asked.

"When it states you’re my wife," he said. "Might I remind you of the identity of the person you married?"

He paused briefly before adding, "This client specifically asked about you."

That wiped the expression off my face. "Why?"

"He’s family-oriented. Old money. Traditional." He watched me closely. "He doesn’t trust men who claim stability but hide their wives. That’s the man I’m dealing with."

I stared at him, my thoughts scrambling. "So what—you want me to pretend in front of him? Impress him?"

"I want to reassure him," he said evenly. "He’s bringing his wife. She said she was curious. He wanted her to meet someone around the same age."

My chest tightened again.

And if I don’t live up to their expectations?

"It’s not in the contract," I said automatically.

"This isn’t an announcement," he replied. "It’s just a dinner."

"That was your duty as my wife."

I shook my head slowly. "You don’t understand. I’m not like the women you usually bring to these things."

His gaze sharpened, something firm settling in his eyes. "That’s precisely the point."

Silence settled once more, thick and heavy between us.

"I won’t force you," he said after a moment.

"But if I go alone, they’ll cancel this million-dollar deal."

My breath caught, my grip tightening in my skirt.

"You don’t have to go if you want to."

I hated how calm he was; he knew my guilt couldn’t take this. Hated how carefully he framed it so I wouldn’t be able to accuse him outright, like I actually had a choice.

"And if I go," I asked slowly, "what exactly do you expect from me?"

I’m not exactly the type of person you parade somewhere.

His eyes flicked over me, curious rather than critical.

"Be yourself," he said. "My wife."

"My wife didn’t have to pretend as someone she’s not.