The Contract Girlfriend

CHAPTER THREE

I didn't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this.

Miles looked like he'd stepped out of a Vogue spread-black suit, white shirt, subtle gold cufflinks. Regal. Untouchable. And there I was, standing barefoot in a borrowed robe, blinking away sleep and staring at a suitcase packed with a new outfit-tags still on.

"Good morning," he said with a soft smile, tightening his watch strap. "Get dressed. We have a flight to catch."

I didn't ask questions. I wanted to-but something about the way he moved, like a man with a thousand unspoken plans, made me just... follow.

After a quick shower and slipping into the beige dress he'd packed for me-tailored, simple, expensive-I met him by the door. He offered his hand. I took it.

The flight was smooth, private, and quiet. I stared out the window, pretending not to be completely terrified. When we landed, a sleek, dark car was already waiting for us. The driver bowed slightly before opening the door. Miles helped me in first, his hand warm around mine.

As the city blurred past the tinted windows, I noticed the shift-the buildings became grander, more secure. Armed guards patrolled gates, surveillance cameras dotted every corner, and then-

There it was.

A palace-not a mansion, not a villa. A palace. White stone, endless glass, manicured gardens that looked like they'd been carved from dreams. The car slowed. My heart didn't.

The car slowed to a stop, and I could feel my heart trying to claw its way out of my chest. The gates behind us had closed with a finality I wasn't ready for, and now... here we were.

Miles turned to me with that unreadable smile of his.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

I let out a shaky breath, managing a grin. "Born ready... Your Grace."

I meant it as a joke.

But his expression didn't change.

Before I could process that, a team of guards in sleek uniforms approached the car. The doors opened, and a group of maids in crisp, elegant dresses curtsied in unison.

"Your Grace. My Lady. Welcome home."

Home.

The word echoed too loudly in my head. I stepped out slowly, my heels clicking against the polished stone like they didn't belong there. Like I didn't belong there.

And then I saw it.

The palace. No, mansion. No... it was a mix of both. Towering, whitewashed walls with golden accents. High columns. Wide, arched windows. The kind of place that doesn't just say wealth-it whispers legacy.

I turned to Miles, my voice barely a breath.

"Miles... are you-?"

I didn't get to finish.

A formal voice announced, "The Duke and Duchess await you inside."

The maids began to usher us forward. Before I could untangle the mess in my brain, I was walking through polished marble halls with Miles beside me, his hand warm in mine, posture tall and regal.

We stepped into a room bathed in light-vaulted ceilings, chandeliers, velvet furniture. Everything gleamed.

And then... I saw them.

His parents.

The Duke and Duchess.

Standing side by side, composed and elegant. The Duchess had soft features and sharp eyes. The Duke, stern but with an air of quiet power.

Miles released my hand and took a respectful step forward.

"Father. Mother."

They both nodded.

"You must be Evelyn," the Duchess said, looking directly at me.

I took a deep breath and gave the most graceful curtsy I could muster without fainting. "Yes, Your Grace. It's an honor."

Her eyes flicked over me-not judgmental, just... observant. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.

"You're quite lovely," she said. "Miles speaks highly of you."

"I could say the same, Your Grace,"

"Your home is beautiful," I said to his mother, my voice even. "But not nearly as breathtaking as the woman who raised him."

There was a pause. Then-she chuckled. Not cold. Not fake. But not entirely trusting, either.

"You're charming," she said.

Just then, she turned to the maids and snapped, "Take them upstairs. Make sure they're comfortable."

Miles and I followed them up a wide staircase, hand in hand once again. I waited until we were out of earshot, then whispered, "How did I do?"

He looked at me-really looked. "You were perfect."

That made my heart stutter a little. I wasn't sure if it was the compliment, or the fact that it sounded real. Too real.

Just then there was a knock on the door

The knock was soft and early.

"Miss Evelyn?" came a gentle voice from the other side of the door. "The Duke and Duchess are awaiting you for breakfast."

I sat up slowly, fingers brushing sleep from my face. Another day of pretending. Another day wrapped in borrowed silk, walking through someone else's world.

I dressed simply-tasteful but understated-and followed the maid down the hallway. My heart beat a little faster with every step. Not quite nerves. Just... awareness. Awareness that this morning, I'd be sitting across from people who ruled with looks sharper than blades.

The double doors of the dining room were already open. Miles stood beside his chair, back straight, hands folded behind him like a portrait come to life.

The Duke offered a polite nod. The Duchess... barely looked at me. Her eyes swept over me once, cold and calculated, like I was a wine label she wasn't sure deserved to be uncorked.

"You're late," Miles murmured under his breath as I approached the table.

I offered a quick smile. "Maybe I like to make an entrance."

He didn't smile back. "Don't forget what this is."

"Hard to," I whispered, "when you keep reminding me."

The chairs scraped gently against marble as we sat. No greetings. No warmth.

Just tension in porcelain and polished silverware.

The Duchess didn't waste time. "So... how did you two meet? You never quite clarified, Miles."

He glanced at me but said nothing.

I folded my hands in my lap and met her gaze. "We met abroad. It wasn't... conventional. But it stuck."

The Duke lifted his brows with mild interest. "Abroad?"

"Yes. I was raised outside the country. My father passed some years ago. After that, I stayed with close family friends until I could take care of myself."

There was a pause. A small one.

The Duke inclined his head. "I'm sorry to hear that. He must've been important to you."

I nodded, keeping my voice even. "He was everything. The kind of man who never broke a promise. Who taught me that class had more to do with how you treat people than what's in your bank account."

It went quiet for a beat too long.

The Duchess set her cup down-precisely, deliberately. "And your mother?"

"She left when I was very young."

Nothing. No nod. No 'I'm sorry.'

Just the briefest flicker of distaste in her expression, like I'd said something... inappropriate.

Silence settled.

The Duchess set her teacup down. No reply. No sympathy. Just the slightest curl at the corner of her mouth.

And that was enough.

I stood slowly, careful not to let the chair screech too loud. "Excuse me. I need a moment."

Miles started to rise, but I was already turning away.

She didn't make it far before she heard steps behind her. Miles.

"You can't storm out every time you get uncomfortable," he said quietly, not unkindly, but firm.

"I didn't storm out," she muttered. "I left before I said something impolite."

"You knew this wouldn't be easy," he said, voice low.

"I didn't expect it to feel like that," Evie whispered. "Like I didn't belong. Like I was being... measured."

"You were," Miles said simply. "But that doesn't change the deal."

She turned to him. "You could've said something."

"I'm not here to play defense, Evie. We agreed on a role. You're playing it."

That stung.

He stared at her, eyes steady. "This isn't about your feelings, Evie. It's about the deal. Stick to the script."

Her jaw clenched. "Right. The script."

A beat passed. Then, unexpectedly, he added, "You did fine."

Evie blinked, looking up at him. "Is that... a compliment?"

"It's a fact. Don't get used to it."

They began to head back to the dinning when the door creaked behind us.

Two voices, light and familiar, spilled into the corridor.

"Speak of the devil," Miles muttered under his breath.

Kaiden entered first-tall, charming, effortlessly confident. Arabella followed, wrapped in casual elegance, all pearls and veiled contempt.

Kaiden's gaze flicked straight to me, a grin spreading across his face.

"So this is the infamous mystery girl," he said. "We thought Miles invented you. But look at that-you're real. And prettier than he described."

I blinked. "Thank you... I think?"

"I mean it in the best possible way," he said with a wink. "You've got mystery in your eyes."

Before I could reply, I turned slightly toward Arabella.

"You must be Arabella," I said, smiling softly. "Beautiful name."

She looked me over once, then gave a faint, disinterested hum. "Hmm."

Cold. But not surprising.

Kaiden leaned over, stage-whispering, "Don't take it personally. Bella's allergic to lady's that look prettier than her before coffee."

Arabella gives a stern look at Kaiden "Charming"she grunts

Miles cleared his throat. "Kaiden flirts with anything that breathes."

I shot Kaiden a playful glance. "Duly noted."

Kaiden beamed. "Ah, she's got fire. I like her already."

Arabella's stare burned into the side of my face, unreadable.

But I didn't shrink.

Because no matter how many porcelain daggers they threw...

I'd survived far worse without silk, servants, or silver spoons.

Turns out the day wasn't over. A garden party at noon meant more pretending, more smiles... more lies.