Lila’s standing just behind them, arms folded so tight it’s a wonder she hasn’t cut off circulation. Her glare is pure murder.
Good. I’d be disappointed if she wasn’t still pissed.
I consider my options.
Rising to the fight would be easy. Giving them attitude, matching their energy. But that’s what Lila expects. She wants me to be the arrogant, insufferable bastard she’s built up in her head.
So, naturally, I decide to do the one thing guaranteed to really piss her off.
I turn on the charm.
A slow, easy smile. Relaxed shoulders. The picture of calm, effortless amusement. Like I haven’t just walked into the lion’s den.
Like I belong here.
Sophie tilts her head, unimpressed. “You must be BenAshcroft. The man who just spent ten thousand pounds on an evening with our Lila.”
I raise my glass slightly. “Worth every penny.”
Lila gives me a saccharine smile, all teeth. “It’s non-refundable.”
Then, before Sophie can sharpen that unimpressed look into a full-blown verbal evisceration, I glance around the ballroom and let my expression soften, just enough.
“You’ve done something incredible here,” I say, my voice smooth but sincere. “The turnout, the fundraising, the cause itself. You should be proud.”
That catches her off guard. Just for a second.
Marcus, standing beside her, watches me carefully, his expression unreadable. Sophie tilts her head, lips pressing together, considering me like she’s trying to decide if I’m actually being genuine or just laying the groundwork for whatever game she thinks I’m playing.
The truth?
I mean it.
I might be here for Lila, but I can respect what they’ve done. The fundraiser isn’t just another glitzy event for rich people to pat themselves on the back—it actually matters. The energy in the room, the way the whole community is truly invested in raising money, the way Sophie’s father is being treated like a person and not just the face of the cause… it’s impressive.
Sophie studies me for a beat longer, her sharp gaze assessing. Then, just as I think she might push back again, she exhales, a small, genuine smile breaking through. “Thank you,” she says, her voice softer this time. “It’s a very generous donation, we appreciate it.”
“So, Ben,” Olivia says, arms crossed, gaze assessing. “You’rea businessman. Surely, ten grand is pocket change to you.”
I shrug, taking another slow sip of whiskey. “Depends on what I’m buying.”
Willow narrows her eyes. “And what exactly do you think you’re buying?”
I meet her stare evenly. “An evening of baking and floral arrangements, obviously.”
Willow doesn’t blink. “Is that’s all you’re expecting?”
Her tone is casual, but there’s an edge beneath it. A quiet warning wrapped in politeness. A test.
I keep my expression easy, letting the moment stretch just long enough to make them wonder. “Unless Lila’s planning to throw in a bonus round of business strategy consulting, then yes. That’s all I’m expecting.”
Sophie hums. “Because if you think you’re getting anything else, I assure you—”
Olivia finishes for her, “—you’re not.”
I exhale through my nose, amused. “Duly noted.”
Lila retorts. “These are going to be the most expensive rock cakes you’ve ever made.”
