The following week arrived faster than Nadia expected. Reinhardt Capital's representative had already landed in London and requested a private dinner with both her and Tom. The message was clear: they wanted not just numbers, but proof of stability.
Nadia rehearsed answers in her head as she dressed in a navy dress, understated but professional. In the mirror she looked calm, but inside she calculated every possible question they might throw. She could handle investors. What unsettled her was Tom—how naturally he slipped into the role of attentive husband, how easily he closed the gaps she left in conversation.
When she stepped into the living room, Tom was waiting in a tailored suit. His tie was dark green, a deliberate nod to Verdant Power's branding. He offered his arm.
"Shall we?" he asked.
Nadia hesitated, then placed her hand lightly on his sleeve. "Remember, this is business."
"Always," Tom said smoothly. But his eyes lingered on hers longer than necessary.
---
The dinner was held at a discreet private club in Mayfair. Marcus Vogel, Reinhardt's representative, was a sharp-eyed man in his fifties with a clipped accent and a cautious smile. He shook both their hands and gestured for them to sit.
"We've reviewed Verdant's financials," Vogel began, "and Kingsley Hotels' records as well. Impressive work on both sides. But Reinhardt invests not only in companies. We invest in people." His gaze shifted between them. "Your marriage surprised us. We prefer stability, yes, but we also value authenticity."
Nadia straightened. "Our marriage is built on shared goals and mutual respect. We are aligned, both personally and professionally."
Vogel sipped his wine, unimpressed. "Words are easy. What I want to see is how you live them."
Tom leaned forward, his tone warm but firm. "Then watch us. Nadia has built Verdant with vision and grit. She's the most relentless leader I've ever seen. I've admired her long before we were married. And I'm not ashamed to say so."
Nadia shot him a quick look. Admired? He hadn't needed to say that. But Vogel's eyes softened slightly.
"You sound proud, Mr. Kingsley," Vogel said.
"I am," Tom replied without hesitation. "We push each other. That's what makes this work."
Vogel turned to Nadia. "And you, Mrs. Kingsley? Do you feel the same?"
The word Mrs. caught in her throat. She forced herself to meet Vogel's eyes. "Tom is… reliable. He brings stability where I bring innovation. Together, we're stronger."
Tom's hand brushed hers under the table. A small gesture, perfectly timed, invisible to Vogel but impossible for her to ignore.
---
After dessert, Vogel excused himself. "We will continue our review, but tonight has been enlightening. Thank you both." He shook their hands again before leaving.
The moment he was gone, Nadia pulled her hand away. "What was that?" she hissed.
"What was what?" Tom asked lightly.
"That… performance. Admiration, pride, touching my hand—none of that was in the plan."
"It worked," he countered calmly. "Vogel believed us. Isn't that the point?"
Nadia paced the empty dining room, arms crossed. "Stick to the contract, Tom. No improvisation."
Tom stood, watching her carefully. "You're terrified of anyone thinking this could be real."
She froze. "Because it's not."
He stepped closer, voice low. "Maybe it could be."
Her pulse spiked. She forced herself to look away, grabbing her coat. "Good night."
She walked out before he could say more.
---
Back at the penthouse, Nadia locked herself in her study. She stared at the numbers on her screen, but none of them registered. Tom's words echoed instead. Maybe it could be.
She hated how part of her hadn't dismissed it instantly.
Across the hall, Tom leaned against his doorway, watching the faint glow under her door. He hadn't planned to say it tonight, but the truth was impossible to hide forever.
Patience, he reminded himself. Patience would win her.