Chapter 4

When I got home, I told Grandfather I'd accept the arranged marriage he had suggested before.

But he didn't look as pleased as I expected.

"My girl," he said carefully, "tell me the truth. Why the sudden change of heart?"

My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice even.

"I used to think I was still young. But a classmate just had a baby. I'm twenty-five. If I get engaged now, we can date for two years—and I'll still be young enough to give you a great-grandchild before my best years are gone."

I knew exactly what he wanted to hear. My answer raised no suspicion.

The next day, I met the man who controlled the Wesson Group—Caspian Wesson.

They called him The Cold Man in Northgate City. Cold likes ice. Unapproachable. Never linked to a single woman.

The moment I saw him, I froze.

In my last life, after Lucian locked me in that club, someone had burst through the flames the night I set the place on fire.

The man leading the rescue was Caspian.

He'd run through the burning building without hesitation, dragging out everyone who'd been trapped like me.

When he reached out his hand, I'd pushed it away.

"I'm tired," I'd said. "I don't want to keep going."

He let me go.

But the look in his eyes wasn't cold at all. It was full of sorrow.

A man that good—getting close to him was the easiest thing in the world.

For the next two weeks, whenever I didn't have class, he came to pick me up.

Dinners. Movies. Shopping. Walking through the city.

Every plan he made hit me in exactly the right spot. So perfectly matched to my taste it was almost suspicious.

I started to wonder if he was secretly a player.

How else would he know so many ways to win a woman over?

Until I caught a glimpse of his browser history.

Best places for a first date.

Romantic movies for couples.

What do women in their twenties like.

I burst out laughing.

His face went red. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

A long moment passed before he spoke, resigned.

"Stop laughing. I just… I don't know how to act around you."

I still couldn't stop.

"You can ask me next time."

"Can I?"

"Of course. What if the internet recommends something I don't even like? Aren't you worried I'd be upset?"

The resignation on his face faded into something serious.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart."

No one had ever called me sweetheart before.

Not in this life. Not in the last.

One month was enough.

I knew he was the man I wanted to marry.

It wasn't a grand, sweeping love.

But he answered every message I sent.

He made me feel like I mattered.

I asked him once—he was so busy.

Why did he always reply to me instantly?

"Nothing in my life comes before you. Nothing."

I admitted I was confused.

Why did he care about me?

Where did his feelings even come from?

"Sweetheart. Give it time. Don't shut me out. Let's give each other a chance."

I said yes.

The next day, I formally brought Caspian home.