Two days later, Evelyn sat in a ridiculously uncomfortable chair in the Duke of Blackwood's private study, feeling like a gladiator about to enter the Colosseum.
She had requested this meeting herself, a move that had sent her father into a sputtering fit and Mia into a state of near-fainting. A lady did not simply summon her fiancé, the Duke of Blackwood, for a chat.
But Evelyn wasn't a lady. She was a CEO on a mission. Operation "Breakup" was a go.
The study was exactly as she'd pictured it: imposing, immaculate, and utterly devoid of warmth. Dark mahogany shelves were filled with leather-bound books arranged by color, not title. A massive desk, polished to a mirror shine, was completely empty save for a single inkwell and a stack of perfectly aligned papers. It was the office of a man who considered clutter a personal failing.
Duke Julian Blackwood sat opposite her, his hands steepled under his chin. He hadn't said a word since she'd been shown in, his silver eyes simply watching her, waiting. He was giving her the floor.
Big mistake, buddy. I came prepared with a PowerPoint presentation in my head.
"Your Grace," Evelyn began, her voice crisp and professional. She had practiced this. No emotion, just facts. "Thank you for agreeing to this meeting. I've come to discuss the terms of our engagement. Specifically, its dissolution."
The Duke's expression did not change. Not a flicker. It was like negotiating with a handsome marble statue.
"I believe," she continued, leaning forward slightly, "that canceling our arrangement would be a mutually beneficial business decision."
A single, dark eyebrow arched. "A business decision?"
"Precisely." Evelyn felt a surge of confidence. She was in her element now. "Let's analyze the assets and liabilities. Our families' alliance is the primary asset. However, the liabilities are significant. We have a fundamental incompatibility of interests."
"You are referring to your… vegetable theory?" The corner of his mouth twitched, the barest hint of a smirk.
"It's a solid metaphor," Evelyn said, refusing to be rattled. "You value duty, tradition, and—I'm guessing—very bland, sensible meals. I, on the other hand, value personal freedom, afternoon naps, and things with a high sugar content. This is not a sustainable merger, Your Grace. The long-term projections are abysmal. Think of the shareholder—our parents'—disappointment."
She sat back, placing her hands on the armrests of her chair. "Therefore, the most logical and efficient course of action is to terminate the contract before any further resources are wasted. We can release a joint statement about irreconcilable differences. It will be clean, professional, and everyone can move on."
She finished her pitch and waited. She had been clear, logical, and had not once mentioned her personal desire to avoid a bleak, loveless marriage that ended in public disgrace. It was a flawless argument.
The Duke was silent for a long moment, his silver gaze analytical. She could practically see the gears turning in his brilliant, calculating mind. He wasn't offended. He wasn't angry. He looked like a master chess player who was genuinely impressed by an opponent's opening move.
"An interesting proposal, Lady Evangeline," he finally said, his voice a low purr. "Well-reasoned. However, your premise is flawed."
"Flawed?"
"You speak of mergers and contracts," he said, unsteepleing his fingers and leaning forward, resting his forearms on the gleaming desk. The movement was predatory, shrinking the distance between them. "But you've misidentified what you truly want. This isn't about our 'incompatibility.' It's about your desire for financial independence."
Evelyn's professional mask slipped. "I—"
"You don't want to break our engagement because you dislike me," he continued, his eyes pinning her in place. "You've only just met me. You want to break it because it tethers you to your father's control. You want the freedom to pursue your… desserts."
He saw right through her. This man didn't just play chess; he had built the board and written the rules.
"So," he said, a dangerous glint in his eye, "your request is denied."
Evelyn's stomach dropped. "Denied? But—"
"However," he cut in smoothly, "I am a reasonable man. I appreciate ambition. It's a far more interesting quality in a woman than demure obedience." He paused, letting the backhanded compliment hang in the air. "So let's make this more interesting. A wager."
"A wager?" Evelyn repeated, her mind racing to keep up.
"You so enjoyed my 'gift' of ingredients," he said. "You believe you can create something of value with them. So prove it. Use those supplies. Turn them into profit. If you can earn one thousand gold coins, on your own, within one month…"
He leaned back, the picture of magnanimous power. "…then I will give your request to dissolve our engagement my most serious consideration."
One thousand gold coins. It was an astronomical sum. Enough to buy a small manor house. Enough for a lifetime supply of snacks.
It was also a trap. He wasn't promising to end the engagement, only to consider it. But it was a path. A clear, quantifiable quest objective. He had taken her vague desire for freedom and turned it into a game, with him as the gamemaster.
And Evelyn never backed down from a challenge.
A slow, determined fire ignited in her chest. He thought he was playing with her. He had no idea what a determined foodie with a modern business plan could accomplish.
She stood up, extending a hand across the desk. A completely improper gesture.
"You have a deal, Your Grace," she said, her voice ringing with newfound purpose.
The Duke looked at her offered hand for a beat, then a genuine, heart-stoppingly attractive smile touched his lips. He stood and took her hand, his grip firm and warm. The handshake was brief, but it felt as binding as any signed contract.
"I look forward to seeing what you can do, Lady Evangeline," he said.
As she walked out of the study, her back straight and her mind already churning with recipes and marketing strategies, Evelyn didn't feel like she had been manipulated. She felt like she had just been handed the key to her own future.
The Duke, meanwhile, remained standing, watching the empty doorway where she had disappeared. The faint, amused smile lingered on his face. This was far more entertaining than he had ever imagined. The game was on.