Arranged Marriage To The Infamous Billionaire Playboy

AIDEN

Soft music floats in the background, complementing the ambiance and décor of the restaurant I've chosen for this occasion. The menus are tantalizing, the tables set to perfection, and the setting evokes a flavorful blend of romance. The lighting dances across Katherine's olive skin, enhancing her radiance.

Katherine is a stunning woman. She looks queenly in her attire: a shimmering turquoise spaghetti dress that clings to her body like a second skin. She's the kind of woman men would go weak in the knees for. However, tonight's outcome is an irony to the venue I've picked.

I anticipate her reaction as the silence lingers after I drop the bombshell. Her expression falls slowly, her mouth thinning into a flat line, following my announcement. I watch her with alertness as she twirls her fork and knife expertly on either side of her plate. She assesses me with a grave look that makes me contemplate bolting.

Fear the silent ones, they say. For they are the most brutal. The silence stretches on, and the tension is starting to grate on my nerves. I wait out her reaction nonetheless, bracing myself for which act she will unleash – the silent killer or the crazy bawler.

Finally, Katie clears her throat, setting her cutlery down. "So...this is where it ends, huh?"

"Yeah," I reply, my eyes scanning her face to read behind the mask of neutrality. "I'm sorry we didn't work out."

I'm not sorry, though. I know our relationship is bound to hit the rocks. We both know I have no intention of making a long-term commitment.

Katie smacks her lips. "Alright." She grabs her shoulder bag and rises from her chair, balancing the bag's handle across one shoulder. "It was worth a try," she croaks, her words limning hurt and disappointment.

Her chair creaks behind her as she steps away from the table, her gaze fixed on me. I'm grateful she takes the breakup in easy stride. My last ex's reaction was no comfort. She caused quite a scene, and I regretted not breaking up with her over a text.

But my code of ethics is to jilt a woman face-to-face. I believe breaking up a relationship over a text is insouciant and cowardly. And I'm no coward.

"If you ever feel lonely, you know how to reach me," Katie says.

I tilt my chin in acknowledgment. "Sure. Goodbye, Katherine."

She arches her eyebrows. "See you around, Mendes," she says, addressing me by my last name, and walking away from our table.

I heave a sigh in relief after she's gone.

"This went well, at least," I murmur beneath a relieved sigh.

With the wealth of experience I've accumulated from past breakups, I'm convinced I've earned an honorary Ph.D. in Understanding Women – or at the very least, a professor emeritus title in Women's Psychology!

I wave the waiter over to take the bill. After receiving the receipt, I leave the restaurant, not bothering that most of our orders have been