Chapter 348: Chapter 348: Something better

“To my brother,” Andrew answered.

Elisabeth didn’t pretend that was romantic. She simply nodded once, like she’d just confirmed the actual contract in a room full of decorative clauses.

“The consort,” she said.

“Yes.”

Her amber eyes flicked to his phone on the table, the screen dark, but Andrew hadn’t moved it away. A small tell. She didn’t comment on it again, but Andrew noted that she’d noticed.

A waiter hovered at the edge of the table with that polished, nervous patience staff in the capital mastered. Elisabeth lifted two fingers, not even looking at him.

“Still water,” she said. “And something dry. No fruit.”

Andrew didn’t interrupt. He ordered when the waiter’s attention shifted to him. “Old-fashioned and keep it simple.”

When the waiter left, Elisabeth leaned back in her chair, settling into a posture that said she was used to sitting across from men who lied for a living.

“So,” she said, practical. “Milo sent you, or you volunteered?”

Andrew’s mouth twitched once. “Both.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only honest one.” Andrew rolled the glass between his fingers, watching the condensation smear. “Milo wanted the Larosa alliance. I wanted… coverage.”

“For your brother,” she guessed.

“For my brother,” Andrew confirmed.

Elisabeth’s gaze stayed steady. “And what do you get out of it, Andrew Black? Beyond being a good man.”

He didn’t flinch at the title. He’d had enough time to get tired of it.

“I get the Black name on paper,” he said. “A seat where it matters. The ability to push back when someone decides Chris is easier to pressure than a king.” His jaw tightened. “Which they will. Especially now.”

Elisabeth nodded, like she agreed with the premise even if she didn’t like the game. “Now that he’s bonded to Saha.”

Andrew didn’t answer, which was an answer.

She let the silence sit for a moment, then asked the next thing like she was moving through a checklist.

“What were you before you became ’heir’?”

“A prosecutor,” Andrew said.

Elisabeth’s brows lifted a fraction. “Current?”

“Former,” he corrected, more bitter than he cared to admit. “On paper.”

“Because of conflict of interest,” she said immediately.

“Yes.”

She watched him for a beat. “You miss it.”

Andrew didn’t like how easily she read that, but he didn’t deny it. “I miss clarity and the streamlined process of my job. ” He gestured lightly at the saloon, the capital, and the entire performance of nobility. “Half the time there isn’t even a real law, just precedent and whose family has better dinner invitations.”

Elisabeth’s mouth curved. “Welcome to my daily work.”

“You’re legal counsel?”

“Defense,” she said, and there it was: the opposite of him, delivered without apology. “Criminal and civil. Contract disputes when it’s someone’s ’family honor’ on the line. Criminal when it’s someone’s son who ’wasn’t himself,’ and somehow the victim is the one getting questioned.”

Andrew’s gaze sharpened. “So you’re the reason half my cases used to take a year.”

Elisabeth’s smile turned real for the first time, brief and satisfied. “I was very good at my job.”

“I was too,” Andrew replied. “Which is why I hate people who weaponize the system.”

“And I hate people who treat the system like a hammer,” she said easily. “We’ll get along.”

The waiter returned with their drinks. Elisabeth waited until he stepped away before she continued, a small habit but a clear one. She didn’t like loose ears.

“So,” she said, fingers around her glass, “what’s the Larosa angle from your side?”

Andrew didn’t pretend ignorance. “The Blacks want a bridge into your family’s network. Larosa judges and Larosa money. Larosa charity boards that are basically political committees with better dress codes.”

Elisabeth lifted a brow. “And from my side?”

“Your family wants the Black name without marrying too close to your own bloodline,” Andrew said. “Third-grade cousins keeps it ’acceptable.’ An adopted heir keeps it clean.”

Elisabeth’s gaze didn’t flicker. “Blunt.”

“Accurate.”

She took a sip, then set the glass down carefully. “Good. I don’t want a man who pretends this is destiny.”

Andrew exhaled. “Then we’re aligned.”

Elisabeth tilted her head. “You said you did this for your brother. But you didn’t answer my earlier question.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed. “Which one?”

“What you get,” she said. “Not what you tell yourself. What you actually get?”

Andrew paused, because it wasn’t a flattering answer, and he didn’t waste time polishing it.

“I get to keep my brother alive,” he said quietly. “Politically. Socially. Physically, if it comes to that.”

Elisabeth studied him for a moment, then nodded once, like she’d decided he wasn’t exaggerating.

“And the king?” She asked, like she was asking about the weather.

Andrew’s face tightened. “He arrives tomorrow.”

Elisabeth’s gaze went to his phone again. “What a turn of events,” she said. “Should I keep my schedule free?”

Andrew let out a breath through his nose, not quite a laugh. “If you have the luxury of keeping schedules free in this city, you’re richer than your file says.”

Her mouth twitched. “So that’s a yes.”

“It would be best,” Andrew admitted, and the honesty cost him something. He didn’t dress it up. He didn’t try to sound commanding. “If you can be seen with me. Tomorrow, and in the days after. Public enough that people understand what Milo is building and stop imagining they can isolate Chris and speak around him.”

Elisabeth didn’t flinch. She just watched him, amber eyes clear, and for the first time the conversation stopped feeling like an interrogation and started feeling like two professionals comparing threat assessments.

“And if I can’t?” she asked.

Andrew’s fingers tightened around his glass, then loosened. “Then you can’t. I’m not going to pretend this marriage gives me ownership over your time. Larosa is not the kind of family you move like furniture.” His gaze held hers. “And you’re not the kind of woman I want to try.”

“Good,” Elisabeth said quietly. Then, after a beat, she added, “And for the record, I wasn’t asking because I’m afraid of being seen.”

Andrew lifted a brow. “No?”

“I was asking because if your king is the kind of dominant alpha you think he is,” she said, “then being seen is the point. The question is whether it helps or provokes.”

Andrew’s mouth curved faintly. “Both.”

Elisabeth’s smile sharpened. “Finally. An honest man in this world.”

They sat for a moment in tacit understanding, less tense now, more practical, the rhythm settling as the initial measuring passed. Around them, the saloon kept doing what it did: laughter rising from the bar, a heated argument near the terrace about tariffs and shipping lanes, and the faint clink of glass that made Andrew’s mind go briefly, annoyingly, to tomorrow.

Their talk was easy, and both of them danced around formality until Elisabeth asked Andrew to use her nickname.

“Beth,” Andrew said, testing the name again and watching it land.

Her eyes flicked to his mouth for half a heartbeat, then back up. “Better.”

Andrew exhaled, and the tension in his shoulders eased by a degree.

Beth glanced toward the entrance, then down at her watch with the efficient impatience of a woman who didn’t pretend time wasn’t money.

“I should go,” she said.

Andrew sat up slightly, automatically. “Already?”

“I have an early meeting,” she replied, tone casual. “And a cousin who will start a rumor if I’m out past midnight.”

Andrew’s mouth twitched. “Larosa family values.”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Larosa family surveillance.”

They stood. Andrew offered to walk her out, but Beth waved it off with the calm authority of someone who didn’t need escorting to be safe.

“I know this city,” she said simply. “And I’d rather you stay where you can see the door.”

Andrew paused, then nodded. “Old habits.”

“Old instincts,” she corrected.

She leaned in just enough that it could still be read as polite. “Tomorrow,” she said quietly. “I’ll be available. If it helps.”

“Thank you,” he said.

Beth’s expression softened for a fraction, then she reached into her clutch.

The movement was smooth and discreet.

She pulled out a slim cream envelope and held it out to him.

Andrew stared at it.

Then he looked up at her, brow lifting. “Are you bribing me to run away?”

Beth’s chuckle was low and real, the sound of a woman who enjoyed the world even when it tried to corner her. “No,” she said lightly.

Andrew took the envelope, feeling the weight of it without knowing what the weight meant yet.

Beth’s amber eyes held his, oddly gentle for an alpha who hadn’t once pretended to be soft.

“But it’s something better.”

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