As I stood at the entrance of the penthouse, I couldn't help the anxiety crawling up my spine.
I tick items off my checklist, making sure everything is delivered and in pristine condition.
This is big.
The kind of opportunity you don't fumble.
The key to pushing my newly founded interior design business into the elite market.
My client, Celeste Buchaan, is a fashion influencer, model, and now penthouse owner. It was my best friend Sasha who introduced us, and I still can't believe my luck.
I'm not just pleasing her.
I'm pleasing her following. Her image. Every person who will step into this space and decide within seconds if I'm worth remembering.
I click my pen as one of the delivery team confirms another item. So far, so good.
Just as I'm about to tick off the next box, my phone vibrates inside my handbag.
"Can't a girl work in peace!" I shout, startling a few of the workers nearby.
I tuck the checklist beneath my arm and dig through my bag, irritation building with every second. My mother's name flashes across the screen.
Of course.
"Yes, Mother?" I answer, forcing calm into my voice.
I try not to sound as frazzled as I feel. Half my day has been chaos, and I'm barely holding it together.
"We're having dinner tonight at the Hoffmans'. Eight sharp. Don't be late."
Before I can even process what she's said...before I can object...the line goes dead.
I stare at my phone.
My mother has never known a thing about phone etiquette, and I've lost count of how many times it has ruined my day.
I release a slow breath, slide my phone back into my purse, and retrieve my checklist.
"You can continue," I say to the worker beside me. "Sorry about that."
He nods and gets back to work, but my mind is already somewhere else.
The Hoffmans.
We haven't been there in years.
My father, Saint Lyn, and Jake Hoffman have been friends since high school. Business partners. Drinking buddies. The kind of men who swear loyalty.
So Jaques and I practically grew up together.
Family dinners. Birthday parties. Same schools. Same social circles.
And yet—
None of that ever translated into friendship.
If anything, we perfected the art of avoiding each other. Years of tension, sarcasm, and mutual irritation. It was a relief when months would pass without us being forced into the same room.
But our parents always had other plans.
I finish checking the last box and watch as the crew neatly stacks everything into the corner. Satisfied for now, I make my way out.
The sun is already dipping low by the time I exit the lobby and head toward the parking lot.
I slide into my car, buckle my seatbelt, and pull out onto the road.
The drive home is quiet. Too quiet.
As soon as I get in, I head straight for the shower, letting warm water cascade over me, washing away sweat and stress and thoughts I don't want to entertain.
I close my eyes.
I'm having dinner with Jaques.
After seeing him at the club the other night, I'm starting to feel like I've seen his face far too many times this year.
The thought alone makes my stomach twist.
I tilt my head back, letting the water hit my face.
Unnerving doesn't even begin to cover it.
I dry off slowly, taking more time than necessary. Anything to delay what's coming.
The mirror fogs over, and I wipe a circle clear with my hand. My reflection stares back at me. I look calm on the surface but really I'm restless underneath. I wrap my hair into a low bun, already mentally sorting through outfits.
Too formal and it looks like I'm trying.
Too casual and my mother will have something to say.
I settle on a simple off the shoulder black dress. Something that makes a statement without begging for attention. I slip on a pair of black heels, then check my makeup once.
This is just dinner. You can do this Shai.
By the time I'm backing out of the driveway, my nerves have settled into something dull and constant. The Hoffmans live across town, their estate tucked behind tall gates and manicured hedges like it's something worth hiding.
The drive feels longer than usual.
When I finally pull up, the house looks exactly as I remember it. Grand, imposing, and completely untouched by time. Lights glow warmly through tall windows, making it look inviting.
A valet opens my door, and I step out, smoothing my dress as I walk toward the entrance.
The moment I cross the threshold, I know.
Something's off.
The house smells like polished wood and expensive wine. Voices drift from the dining room, with laughter that feels forced. I spot my parents almost immediately, my mother sitting poised while she chats with Olivia, and my father wearing his a smile with practiced ease.
And then I see him.
Jaques stands near the far end of the room, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up just enough to be irritating. He looks relaxed. Comfortable.
Like he always does.
Our eyes meet.
His expression shifts, just slightly with acknowledgement. His gaze roams over my body and I refuse the urge to roll my eyes.
I look away first.
"Shai," my mother calls, waving me over, "you made it."
Barely.
I lean in to kiss her cheek, then my father's. "Good evening, everyone."
"Come, sit," she says, guiding me toward the table.
The Hoffmans are already seated. Jake Hoffman rises when he sees me, greeting me with a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek.
"You look lovely," he says.
"Thank you, for having me" I smile.
"Welcome," Jaques says, taking his seat. He watches me from his chair, eyes unreadable, mouth tilted in something that might be amusement.
I take the only seat available...across from him.
Dinner begins easily enough. Small talk, laughter, stories about business and travel. I nod when expected. Smile when appropriate. Push food around my plate without tasting much of it.
But the tension doesn't ease.
If anything, it thickens.
Jaques and I avoid each other's gaze like a plague.
This is weird. We don't just have dinner with another family on the whim. Something has to be going on.
Suddenly, as if he could hear my thoughts, my father clears his throat. I watch my mother's hand still on her glass as Jake straightens in his chair. Olivia sips her wine. They're obviously bracing themselves for something.
I freeze.
"This dinner," my father begins carefully, "isn't just social."
There it is.
I glance at Jaques. His jaw tightens.
"We wanted to speak to you both together," Jake adds, folding his hands. "About the future."
My pulse quickens.
"Our companies," my father continues, "are moving forward with a merger."
The word lands heavy, but it doesn't shock me.
What shocks me is the silence that follows.
"And," Jake says smoothly, "to solidify the partnership, we've agreed on… additional terms."
I feel it before I hear it. The tightening in my chest. The sinking weight in my stomach.
Jaques leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing. "What kind of terms?"
Our mothers smile. Too pleased.
"A marriage," Olivia says.
The room tilts.
I let out a short, sharp, disbelieving laugh. "You can't be serious."
No one joins me.
I look at my father. He won't meet my eyes.
My gaze snaps to Jaques. His expression has gone completely still.
"You're joking," I say again, slower now.
"No," my father replies quietly.
Something fractures inside me.
"You discussed this," I whisper. "Without me?"
"It's for the good of the company," my mother says gently.
"For the good of who?" I snap, standing abruptly. My chair scrapes loudly against the floor.
Jaques rises too, tension radiating from him. "You think I agreed to this willingly?"
I turn on him. "Then say no."
He holds my gaze. "You know it's not that simple."
That's what terrifies me most.
Because he's right.
The realization settles heavy and cold between us.
I didn't know what to do. So I did the only thing I could do. I run.