The Heiress' Husband

This was an insult.

A Lancaster woman did not need to be set up like some common debutante. She was not a struggling socialite in need of a marriage to elevate her status. She was Raelynn Lancaster for fucks sake, and she was more than capable of choosing her own damn partners.

And yet, here she was, standing in front of a dimly lit restaurant, staring at the golden lettering on the doors as if she could will them into disappearing.

She let out a slow breath, smoothing a hand over the silk of her gown, the deep emerald fabric draping over her frame in the perfect blend of class, grace, and allure. The last-minute notice of this ridiculous setup was no excuse for her to appear anything less than impeccable. Her hair was swept back into a sleek, elegant knot, her makeup was artfully applied, a soft glow to her skin, eyes lined with just enough dark kohl to be dangerously alluring. She was wearing a deep emerald gown, satin draping over her frame in the perfect blend of class, grace and allure. Her hair was swept back, makeup meticulously applied, every detail was intentional. She had expectations to uphold.

Raelynn Lancaster was used to expectations.

She had been born into them, raised by them, and shaped beneath their weight. The Lancaster name didn't just open doors, it created them. Wealth, legacy, and power ran through her blood like an unshakable birthright. But expectations? Those were the true inheritance. One Jake never knew of.

He only knew of Raelynn Carter. That was what the whole world knew. Carter was her father's name. Her mother had been the one with the Lancaster name.

Her mother, Eleanor Lancaster, had been a socialite with the kind of effortless elegance that women spent lifetimes trying to imitate. She was the embodiment of perfection.always immaculately dressed, always knowing the right words, always surrounded by the right people. The media had worshipped her. The people loved her.

Her father, Justin Lancaster, was a quiet and calculating man. A businessman who didn't believe in second chances or unnecessary kindness. He built empires, crushed competitors, and taught his daughter that in their world, sentimentality was not an asset.

Raelynn had learned early that love in the Lancaster family was conditional. Approval was earned, not given. And failure? Failure was simply not an option to them.

She had spent her life making sure she never gave her grandfather a reason to be disappointed.

Until now.

Leaving Jake's agency was one thing, but this blind date? Ridiculous. Not to her grandfather though. He had made his stance clear. She was twenty-four, unmarried, and uninterested in securing a "proper" match. She instead chose to entangle herself with a good for nothing model agency owner. That, to him, was unacceptable. The Lancasters didn't drift through life aimlessly. They built alliances, and marriage was simply another means to that end.

Raelynn had no intention of playing along.

Her fingers tightened around the small clutch in her hand. She should turn around. Walk back to her car, drive home, pour herself a glass of wine, and send her grandfather a carefully worded but undeniably firm message about manipulation and why you shouldn't do it to family.

She had half a mind to turn around and go back home. But she hesitated.

Not because she wanted to be here, but because walking away would be a victory for him, her grandfather, Jake, the stranger she hadn't even met. And Raelynn Lancaster did not lose.

She was late and it was everything but by accident.

If she was going to be forced into this charade, she would do it on her terms.

She took her time stepping inside, heels clicking softly against the polished marble floors. The restaurant was as luxurious as expected, soft golden lighting, deep mahogany furnishings, the subtle hum of string music blending into quiet conversations.

The maître d' walked up to her, "Do you have a reservation ma'am?"

"A party of two under the reservation Slade?" Nessa had told her the reservation would be under the name, Slade.

"Of course, ma'am" the maître d' said, moving. Trying to lead her. "Right this way ma'am. Your party is already here."

Raelynn barely acknowledged him, already forming the speech in her head. She would be polite. Just enough to avoid an argument with her grandfather, but firm. Whoever this man was, he would leave knowing she wasn't interested.

She followed the maître d' past elegantly dressed patrons, past tables adorned with flickering candles and expensive wine glasses.

Then he stopped.

"Here we are, ma'am."

Raelynn turned her gaze to the man sitting at the table.

And everything stopped.

The restaurant noise faded. The carefully practiced speech in her head disappeared.

The one person she never even imagined was seated before her. His posture was relaxed, but there was nothing casual about the way he sat—back straight, fingers tapping absently against the stem of his wine glass. The dim lighting cast sharp shadows against the strong lines of his face, highlighting the sculpted angles of his jaw, the sharp intensity of his gaze.

He looked entirely at ease. As if this was expected. As if he had been waiting for her.

"You're late." His voice rolled over her senses. The words were smooth, velvety. Deceptively soft. But there was something else beneath them. Amusement. Challenge.

Her stomach curled in irritation. She tilted her chin, eyes sharp.

"If I had known it was you, I wouldn't have come at all," she said smoothly, sliding into the seat across from him.

His lips curved, just barely. "Now, that would have been a shame."

Raelynn's fingers curled around the stem of the wine glass in front of her. The rich aroma of an aged red filled her senses.

"How long have you known?" she asked.

"Long enough." He leaned back in his seat, studying her. "I assumed you'd read the file."

Her grip on the glass tightened.

The file.

The one Nessa had handed her. The one she had refused to open, because she hadn't wanted to play into her grandfather's games.

His knowing smirk deepened, as if he had read the exact thought that just crossed her mind.

"I see you didn't," he murmured.

Raelynn inhaled sharply, forcing a slow, measured breath. "You should fire whoever handles your assumptions."

"Noted."

Her grandfather did this and didn't tell her. Oh wait, there was the file he sent to her.

Nessa knew and didn't warn her. Again, she mentally noted that Nessa had handed over said file to her.

Her date?

He didn't even seem surprised. it seemed as though the blind date wasn't blind after all.

And she?

She really should have read the fucking file!