Chapter 19 A Fancy Dinner
Clara Bennett didn't even get a chance to shoot down the idea before Mason Reed grabbed her arm and hauled her out the door.
She stayed quiet on the way, her mind racing as she calculated what her measly paycheck could cover.
She stole a glance at Mason. He'd always lived lean, scraping by—surely he didn't know the hot spots in Harrington, right?
With his budget tastes, a roadside diner would probably do the trick.
Some places even had bottomless bread baskets—plenty to fill him up.
Clara ducked her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
Since they'd tied the knot, she'd pinched every penny, cooking with whatever cheap veggies she could snag.
But she remembered something an old family friend once told her: young couples need a spark now and then, a little romance to keep the fire alive.
So... why not splurge just this once? Treat him to a night out?
Then she looked up—and froze. They were standing in front of The Regal Haven, the swankiest five-star hotel on Harrington's glitziest strip.
"This place'll do," Mason said, his tone as casual as if he'd picked a burger joint.
"What did you say?" Clara nearly yelped.
"I said, let's eat here," Mason replied, squinting at her with a sly grin. "Looks decent enough."
Clara's breath hitched, her hand instinctively clutching her purse tighter. This was the Regal Haven—the kind of place she'd never dared glance at while passing by. One meal here could wipe out her paycheck before the appetizers even hit the table.
Mason tugged her inside. The staff flanked the entrance, bowing crisply, while the manager glided over with a polished smile. "Welcome to The Regal Haven," he said.
"Mason!" Clara yanked his arm back, her voice a desperate hiss.
"What's up?" he asked, turning to her.
"We..."
We can't afford this.
Let's find somewhere cheaper.
People like us don't eat at places like this.
The words piled up in her throat, but she swallowed them down. She caught the glint of excitement in Mason's eyes and thought of how he'd handed over those priceless heirlooms without a second thought. He trusted her—saw her as his partner. How could she nickel-and-dime her own husband?
Gritting her teeth, she forced a smile. "Let's go in."
Mason blinked, caught off guard. "You sure?"
"Of course!" Clara chirped, leaning into him like a giddy newlywed. "If you like it, we'll eat here. It's just dinner—don't worry, your wife's got you covered!"
A flicker crossed Mason's eyes. He'd picked this place on purpose, knowing her paycheck was thin, expecting her to balk or drag him back to some discount grocery haul.
He'd meant to mess with her, maybe even push her to admit she wasn't Evelyn Bennett, just a stand-in.
But now, watching her grit her teeth and play along, he felt a pang of guilt. Maybe he'd gone too far.
"How about we—" he started, but Clara was already pulling him inside. They snagged a window table with a killer view of Harrington's twinkling skyline.
Clara scanned the menu and ordered two dishes—nothing extravagant, but it stretched her budget to the limit. She told the waiter to keep the portions small, just enough for Mason.
"Why aren't you eating?" Mason asked, his gaze locking onto hers.
She flashed a weak smile, dodging his eyes. "I'm not that hungry. No appetite."
"But you were just griping about me not cooking," he pointed out.
Clara went silent, a flicker of unease passing through her clear eyes.
Mason set his fork down, his deep stare cutting through her like a blade. After a long pause, he spoke, each word deliberate. "We've been married a while now. Isn't there something you want to tell me?"