On my first night as Julian’s sugar baby, he set the rules.

"A hundred thousand a month. This is an arrangement, nothing more. Don't cross the line and expect anything else."

I nodded, pocketed the check, and never crossed the line.

Until year seven, when he suddenly dropped a bomb.

"I'm getting engaged. I set you up with a safe desk jockey as a parting gift. Go meet him at the penthouse club this weekend."

Wrapped in my silk sheets, my grandmother's voice echoed in my head.

Cecilia, my health has been declining. You've made enough money. It's time to find someone to spend your life with.

She was right. Since this arrangement was dead, I needed to secure a new future so she wouldn't worry.

So, I nodded immediately and leaned a little closer to Julian.

"Sure. What's his name? How old is he? Which Wall Street firm does he work for?"

~~~~~

Julian's hand froze on the button of his shirt.

He turned his head. The smugness drained from his face, replaced by a dark, rigid scowl.

"That's it?"

He gritted his teeth. "Is that all you have to say?"

I blinked, genuinely trying to figure out if I had missed some crucial etiquette in our contract termination. After taking his money for seven years, I knew how to part on good terms.

Realization dawned on me. I sat up straight and looked him dead in the eye.

"Thank you for your generosity over the last seven years. Don't worry, I won't get in the way of your business merger with Victoria."

Julian stared at me, his eyes burning.

"Fine. You're really something, Cecilia."

He let out a cold sneer, ripped open the shirt he had just buttoned, and shoved me back onto the mattress.

He pressed me down. His movements were rougher, more punishing than ever before. He pushed me to my absolute limit. I didn't even know when I finally passed out.

When I woke up the next morning, the space beside me was empty.

Julian had only left a text.

It was the address of a top-tier private club in Manhattan, followed by a string of messages.

"I'm taking Victoria to Europe for a two-week vacation to bond."

"If you don't like the blind date, don't force it. Wait until I get back."

"Who knows, maybe I'll raise your allowance by then."

I stared at the words raise your allowance and typed a single-word reply: "Okay."

I didn't care about his price tag. I was determined to properly vet this blind date.

After all, I was a pragmatic woman. I never wasted time when there was a job to do.

The next day was Saturday.

I slipped into a soft, elegant French-style dress, applied some light makeup, and arrived at the club right on time.

Pushing open the heavy doors, I scanned the room.

At the prime VIP table by the window sat a breathtakingly handsome man.

He was dressed in a bespoke suit, scrolling through a tablet. The sunlight caught the sharp angles of his profile, making it impossible to look away.

I double-checked the table number, took a deep breath, and walked straight over.

Pulling out the chair across from him, I sat down.

"Hi. I'm your blind date."

The man's finger paused on his screen.

He slowly raised his head. Dark, deep-set eyes locked onto mine for a long moment.

Just as I started to wonder if he wasn't interested, or if I had completely botched the table number, he let out a soft, low laugh.

"Hello. I'm Preston."