Twilight Romance: Flash Marriage to Mature Tycoon – Episode 04
Jocelyn sank into the leather seat, still holding the thermal bag’s empty strap as though it could anchor her to reality. The driver confirmed that Violet had personally arranged the meeting and insisted that Jocelyn need only arrive with an open mind. Outside the tinted window, the neighborhood slid away. Less than an hour ago she had been discarded as an embarrassment; now three luxury cars were escorting her toward a man she had never met.
Across the city, Ray Astor regarded his daughter over the rim of his coffee cup. Violet stood before his desk with her arms folded, refusing to leave until he honored his promise. Ray reminded her that agreeing to a meeting was not agreeing to marriage. Violet replied that he could negotiate definitions after he met Jocelyn.
“You are asking me to date your former nanny,” Ray said. Violet corrected him with a pointed look: Jocelyn had never been merely a nanny, just as Ray was not merely a bank account. Her bluntness drew a reluctant smile from him. Few adults dared challenge Ray Astor, but his daughter treated his power as an irrelevant personality flaw.
Violet pressed her advantage. She reminded him that he was wealthy enough to buy anything except time, companionship, and the truth about why people stayed. Jocelyn cared for others when there was nothing to gain. “Just meet her once,” Violet pleaded. “If you still want to be lonely afterward, I’ll stop.”
The wording struck closer than Ray liked. His divorce had taught him that affection could hide ambition, and years of being pursued for his fortune had hardened suspicion into instinct. He had no intention of letting Violet’s longing expose them both to another opportunist. Still, refusing now would break the promise that had finally dried her tears.
“One dinner,” he agreed. Violet threw her arms around him, triumphant enough to make him wonder how long she had been planning this. When she rushed out to finalize arrangements, Ray called his assistant back into the room. If he was going to meet Jocelyn, he would do it without the Astor name influencing her answer.
He removed his tailored suit, heirloom watch, and every visible sign of wealth. In their place came work boots, faded jeans, and a plain shirt borrowed from a construction supervisor on one of his sites. His assistant stared in disbelief as Ray rejected the chauffeured car and chose an ordinary vehicle. Tonight, Ray would earn twenty-five dollars an hour and live in a modest home; if Jocelyn’s warmth vanished, the experiment would end before Violet could be hurt.
Jocelyn arrived at an elegant restaurant feeling painfully underdressed. She asked the driver twice whether the address was correct before allowing herself to be led into a private room. A tall, silver-haired man rose when she entered, and the reserved kindness in his smile eased some of her embarrassment. He pulled out her chair without showmanship, as if courtesy came naturally to him.
“You must be Ray,” she said. He nodded and thanked her for coming on such short notice. Jocelyn laughed nervously, explaining that Violet had always threatened to find her a companion one day. Ray noticed the affection that transformed her face whenever she said his daughter’s name, and his suspicion loosened by a fraction.
She thanked him for sending the cars. The comment immediately sharpened his attention, because wealth often announced itself first through transportation. “They weren’t mine,” he said, watching her closely. “Violet arranged them through her family.”
Jocelyn accepted the correction without disappointment. She admitted that the convoy had frightened her and that one ordinary car would have been more than enough. Her answer sounded sincere, but Ray had learned never to judge character from a single graceful response. He leaned back and began the test he had prepared.
“I should be honest about my circumstances,” he said. “I work construction and make about twenty-five dollars an hour.” He expected surprise, perhaps a polite excuse to leave. Instead, Jocelyn’s shoulders relaxed, as though his modest income made the evening less intimidating.
“That is honest work,” she replied. She told him she had spent years cleaning rooms, cooking meals, and caring for children in other people’s homes. Labor had never embarrassed her; cruelty did. The quiet distinction made Ray think of all the wealthy people he knew who possessed status without dignity.
He continued, mentioning that his house was small and his savings unremarkable. Jocelyn smiled and said she had never needed a mansion. A safe place, a warm meal, and someone who meant what he said were luxuries enough. Her gaze held no calculation, only the weariness of a woman who had recently learned how rare those simple things could be.
Ray noticed the faint redness around her eyes. He asked whether she had come directly from somewhere else, and Jocelyn hesitated before saying she had planned to leave the city. She did not describe Stacy’s insults or Harry’s silence. Even wounded, she protected the people who had failed her, and that restraint told Ray more than any accusation could have.
For the first time that evening, he felt ashamed of the disguise. Jocelyn had arrived stripped of security and still offered him respect, while he sat across from her constructing lies to measure her worth. Yet experience warned him not to reveal himself too quickly. Trust, once betrayed, was not easily rebuilt.
The server presented menus bound in leather. Jocelyn handled hers carefully, and Ray saw her eyes widen at the prices before she smoothed her expression. He told her to order whatever she wanted, curious whether the promise would finally tempt her. She studied the page for a long moment while he studied her.
Jocelyn closed the menu. “May I ask you something first?” she said. Ray inclined his head, prepared for a question about his prospects or property. She asked instead whether construction work was dangerous and whether he had eaten a proper meal that day.
The concern caught him unprepared. No one on a first date had ever looked past Ray Astor’s fortune to wonder if he was tired or hungry. He answered honestly that he had skipped lunch. Jocelyn’s face brightened with a decision, and Ray realized his test had begun turning back on him.
She leaned forward, ready to make an unexpected proposal of her own. Ray had come expecting to expose greed, but the woman across from him seemed intent on offering something instead. As her hand rested on the closed menu, he wondered whether Violet had understood them both better than either adult was willing to admit.