Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 60: A Table For Three

When the car pulled up in front of the restaurant, Adrien looked over at me, eyes unreadable.

"You ready?" he asked.

I nodded, even though my pulse was suddenly in my throat.

He got out first.

Then opened my door like it was second nature—not forced chivalry, but quiet instinct. He..held out his hand

Like a gentleman. Like we were about to walk into a royal gala or something.

I stared at it for a second too long before placing my hand in his.

His grip was firm, warm, grounding. I got out, heels hitting the pavement softly, and just like that... we were walking hand in hand.

we entered the restaurant.

As a couple.

Fake couple but still.

The inside was stunning. Marble floors, chandeliers that looked like they belonged in a castle, fresh orchids in silver vases.

And not a single customer in sight.

No quiet conversations nor clinking silverware. Just gold-rimmed place settings, candlelight, and luxury draped across an empty dining space that looked like it belonged in a movie scene.

I leaned in slightly. "Why is it empty?"

He smirked without looking at me. "My mother rented the whole place."

I blinked. "She rented out an entire restaurant? For lunch?"

He gave me a look that clearly said, This is normal. "Just smile, Isabella."

Oh

The host approached with a practiced smile and a bow of his head. "Right this way, Mr. Walton."

We followed him through a softly lit corridor, the scent of truffle oil and something roasted weaving around us. Adrien’s hand brushed mine again as we walked—more instinct than intention I think—but when I slid my fingers into his, he didn’t pull away.

He held on to me firmly like it meant nothing.

The dining room we entered was cozy, somehow both intimate and extravagantly elegant. Gold accents, white linen and fresh orchids blooming at the center of a single table.

Just one.

And at that table sat her.

Adrien’s Mother.

She was stunning—elegant without trying, her dark hair swept into a sleek low bun, soft pearl earrings glinting the light and a coral-colored dress that made her glow. Her posture was perfect, her movements graceful and her smile—real and warm. The kind that reached her eyes and made you feel like you were already welcome.

Wow.

That was the only word in my head for a second.

Because that wasn’t what I expected at all.

I’d been preparing for cold eyes and fake greetings. Judgy stares or maybe a silent war across the table.

But she looked up, and when she saw Adrien, her whole face lit up. "My baby," she said, standing up as we approached. Her voice was light and rich, the kind that made people lean in. "You’re late."

Adrien rolled his eyes fondly. "We’re two minutes early, actually."

Adrien gave my hand a light squeeze before finally letting go.

Only then did he leaned in just enough for a quick hug, the kind that said I love you but I’m still emotionally unavailable. She kissed his cheek anyway.

I lingered behind, not sure where to stand or what to do with my now-empty hand.

Then she turned to me.

And in that moment, I forgot every carefully rehearsed answer I had.

Because her eyes landed on me like sunlight.

"You must be Isabella," she said, stepping closer to me. "You are even more beautiful than I remembered. I wasn’t really paying attention to you last time at the family gathering—I was focused on him." She threw a pointed look at Adrien. "Three years. That’s how long he ghosted me."

Adrien sighed and gave her a dry side-eye. "Not this again."

She waved him off, then turned to me fully. "I’m so glad you’re here," she said brightly. "Come, sit next to me."

"Oh—thank you, Mrs. Walton," I said politely, trying not to sound awkward.

She frowned instantly. "Mrs. Walton? No no no. That’s far too formal. Please, call me Elise."

I offered a small, grateful smile. "Elise, then."

It felt weird, but she smiled so brightly I couldn’t argue.

Without a word, Adrien reclaimed my hand and guided me to the table, only letting go once we were seated—me beside his mother, him across from us like he needed a safe distance.

A waiter approached with water and menus, but Elise waved him off with a playful flick of her fingers. "We’ll have the chef’s pairing. No menus. I don’t want to see a single price on this table."

I blinked.

This woman was nothing like I imagined. Well Adrien did give me heads up.

We had barely settled in when Elise’s eyes lit with that curious gleam again.

"So..." she said, her gaze bouncing between us, "how long have you two been together?"

I stiffened slightly but Adrien didn’t even flinch.

He reached for his water. "Don’t start."

Elise’s eyes danced. "What? I just want to know. You didn’t mention a girlfriend. And at the family dinner—you didn’t say anything."

I cleared my throat. "That’s because... I wasn’t his girlfriend then."

"Oh?" Elise turned to Adrien. "When did that change?"

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he leaned back slightly and said, "You’re going to exhaust her with your questions, Mum."

"I just didn’t expect it that’s all. You showing up here like this. Adrien doesn’t exactly do relationships, I thought he was joking."

"Thank you," Adrien said dryly. "Really appreciate the testimonial."

She grinned. "I’m just saying, I’m impressed."

"Don’t be," he replied, sipping his water.

Elise rolled her eyes, grinning. "Don’t mind him Isabella. He’s been a grumpy old man since birth. He used to write complaint letters to his kindergarten teacher because the crayons weren’t ’organized properly"

I blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

"Dead serious," she said proudly.

"I’m right here, you know," Adrien muttered.

We both laughed and for a moment, the tension I was feeling melted into something warm.

By the time dessert arrived—something with lemon custard, edible gold, and a name I couldn’t pronounce—I’d almost forgotten this was supposed to be a fake lunch.

Almost.

Elise was nothing like I expected. She talked with her hands, laughed like she meant it and told enough embarrassing stories about Adrien to make me choke on sparkling water twice.

Apparently, in addition to the crayons scandal, there was a year he insisted on wearing a tie to preschool "because dressing like the CEO you want to be starts young."

He didn’t deny it. Just sipped his espresso like he regretted every life choice that led him here.

There was a short pause, just long enough for her to take a sip of wine before she leaned in slightly and asked, "And tell me... is my son treating you well?"

I blinked, surprised by the sudden shift. She chuckled at my reaction.

"I only ask because... well, I know my son," she said with a teasing tilt of her head. "He can be a little irritable sometimes. Cold. He takes after his father."

Her laughter was light like sunshine pouring through a window.

Adrien groaned beside me muttering something under his breath.

I bit back a smile. "He’s been... manageable."

"Manageable?" Adrien echoed, turning towardd me.

I tilted my head innocently. "You heard me."

Elise laughed again, absolutely delighted. "I like you already," she said with genuine warmth. "You keep him on his toes."

The plates were nearly cleared and the waiter had just refilled our glasses when Elise leaned in slightly, her tone casual—but I could see the glint in her eye.

"So, Isabella," she said, drawing out my name like she was testing it, "would you like to come out with me sometime?"

"Oh—um..."

"Just girl stuff," she went on, waving a hand. "A spa day, some shopping, maybe lunch. Nothing formal. I’d love to get to know you without Mr. Broody Pants hovering."

I nearly choked on my drink again.

Adrien sat straighter. "Mum she—"

"I’m asking Isabella," Elise said sweetly, not even glancing at him. "Not you."

His jaw tightened. "She has work."

Elise finally looked at him, all innocence. "Don’t you control her schedule?"

He glared at her.

I on the other hand, tried to breathe through the weird thrill of the moment. This wasn’t in the script. There was no bullet point under "fake girlfriend duties" that said: Accept spontaneous spa day with the CEO’s emotionally perceptive gorgeous mother.

But still—

"I’m totally fine with it," I said quickly, then caught myself. "Ma’am—uh, Elise."

Her entire face lit up.

"Perfect! I’ll have my driver pick you up sometime this week. We’ll find a good time."

Adrien leaned back in his seat, expression unreadable, fingers tapping once against the tablecloth.

"I can text your assistant," Elise added casually.

"I am his assistant," I said with a smile.

She laughed, like she’d already forgotten. "Right! I forgot. Silly me"

The waiter returned to ask if we’d like more coffee or tea and Adrien said nothing. Just sat there, unreadable like someone had moved a piece on a chessboard he hadn’t seen coming.

And I...

Well, I had no idea what I’d just agreed to.

But something told me this was only the beginning.

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