The Tycoon's Revenge Bride

Faye’s POV

I ran.

Thunder cracked behind me like the world was clapping at my misery. My heels were in one hand, my phone in the other, and my parents’ voices still echoed in my ears—

“Just give him a chance, Faye. It’s only dinner!”

They had ambushed me. Set me up with a stranger mid-meal like I was a business merger they needed to close. I didn’t even finish my wine.

Drenched, hair clinging to my face, I ducked into the first open door I saw. A sleek bar on the other end of the street that glowed with golden light. Jazz curled around the air like perfume. I slipped past the host, too pissed and too soaked to care.

The warmth inside hit me like a slap. Or maybe that was the man sitting at the end of the bar, watching me like I’d just crash-landed from Mars.

He was tall, dark suit casual against his broad frame, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. One hand nursed a whiskey. The other tapped a rhythm against his thigh like time was something he owned.

He was… beautiful. That was the only word. Strong jawline, messy dark hair, and a quiet intensity that made everything else around him seem dim. I cleared my throat as I looked ahead.

“You running from a crime scene or just late for your wedding?” he asked, voice dry and maddeningly British.

I blinked rain out of my lashes. “What gave me away? The bare feet or the murder in my eyes?”

His lips curled. “Bit of both.”

I should’ve walked past him. Should’ve found a corner, a towel, maybe a drink. Instead, I dropped onto the stool beside him like fate had pulled the chair out for me.

“Bad night?” he asked.

“Understatement.” I flagged the bartender. “Vodka. No judgment.”

“Of course not.” He gave a soft laugh—low, dangerous, expensive. “So, why the run?”

Biting my lips, I wondered if I should actually spill out what was bothering me or keep it tucked inside. Just then, the bartender put my drink in front of me. I immediately reached for it and downed half of the glass before letting out a loud sigh.

"My parents ambushed me over dinner, said someone was waiting for me upstairs. No name. Just 'he's very important, be on your best behavior.' Like I was being auctioned off." I finally spoke up in a dry tone.

"And so?"

“And so?” I raised a brow right back at him as I wondered if he couldn’t guess my next move. “You must be kidding me.” I mumbled to myself before giving him a deadpan look. “Naturally, I ran.” I said in a flat tone.

He chuckled with a smile playing on his lips and then, tilted his head as though he was studying me like a puzzle he’d already solved.

I blinked at him and the expressions on his face. For some reason, I was finding this man attractive under the lights of the bar. Blinking, I shook my head and looked away from him. Maybe the alcohol in the vodka was already kicking in.

“Yet here you are.” He chuckled once again.

I looked back at him and furrowed my brows at him as I wondered what he meant. However, before I could let out a word, he raised a hand up.

“You know, I was actually waiting for someone,” he said.

I glanced at him, already suspicious. “Lucky girl she must be.” I mumbled. “I wouldn’t happen to be ruining any date of your right now, would I?”

“Oh, no, not at all.” He shook his head immediately. “You’re Faye Martin, right?”

My hands froze on my drink as I held his gaze. “Who…are you?”

His voice didn’t waver. “I was supposed to meet you tonight. Blind date. Top floor restaurant at the hotel on the other end of the street.”

I slowly took in the full picture again as I wondered how this stranger knew my name. He seemed to have so much confidence and that quiet, calculated calming aura was something I had read about someone somewhere. As soon as it clicked in my head, my eyes widened.

No. No freaking way.

“Surely, you can’t be…”

“Neil Lancaster?” He raised a brow at me while letting a smirk appear on his lips. “In the flesh.”

Holy shit.

I’d heard the name before. My ex-husband used to work for him and idolized him. Neil Lancaster, the lawyer with the sharpest brain and the coldest heart in the city. Tycoon. Hotshot. Rumored to be part of some underground biker gang and a man who didn’t do dates. Definitely not blind ones.

Surely, he wouldn’t remember or even know my ex who used to work for him, would he?

I swallowed. “Why are you here and not up there?”

“I don’t like surprises. I like information.” He sipped his drink. “So I came early. Saw your parents arrive, saw the look on your face, and decided it would be more fun down here.”

“How were you able to see all that from here?” I frowned as I noticed he wasn’t drenched like I was so he had to be here the entire time.

“Well, I have my ways.” He said and sipped out of his whiskey.

My pulse skipped. “You watched me storm out?”

“I have to admit that I hadn’t been expecting you to move all the way down here instead of up there.”

My laugh was short and bitter. “So what now? You deliver your rejection over drinks instead of steak?” I narrowed my eyes. “Did my parents seriously think this would go well?”

He shrugged. “Your parents don’t know me. My relative does. This was… mutual coercion, I believe.” He turned, his body angled toward me now. “Actually, I’m not here to date you, Faye.”

“Charming.”

“I’m here to offer you a deal.”

Of course he was.

“I’m listening,” I said, though I wasn’t sure why.

He leaned in. Not close enough to touch. Just close enough to shift the air between us.

“You need protection,” he said softly. “And I need a wife.”

I stared. “Protection? Really?” I stared at him with an unimpressed look.

“From your parents.” He tilted his head at me. “Because, let’s be real honest. If this doesn’t go well today, your parents, your mother especially, didn’t look like the type that would give up on setting you on more blind dates.”

My eyelashes fluttered slightly as I knew deep down that he was right. My mother was that persistent.

“Let’s skip the foreplay,” Neil said. “We’re doing this. Right here. Right now.”

He pulls a sleek envelope from his blazer. “Everything’s in here. The terms. The timeline. And the reason why I chose you.”