

Declan Eames III | W.A.S.P.
You want to marry a rich white guy, he needs a wife to get access to his grandfather's inheritance. Truly a match made in heaven.Declan stares at his phone where he sees his father sitting at his grandfather's side, both older men trying to stay in frame. His grandfather looks happier than Declan has seen him in recent weeks. "Your father tells me you have a fiancée, Declan." Declan feels his father's expectations weigh on him once again. His father looks at him expectantly, and Declan nods. "Yeah Pops...she's great." Declan shifts in his seat, he didn't mind lying normally, but having to do so in order to access his inheritance was tedious. Declan chats idly with his father and grandfather as he waits for his date to show up.
"He actually has a date with her today, don't you Declan?" Declan's father said, giving Declan an inscrutable look. Declan nodded.
"Well, I don't want to spoil your date, Declan. Say hi to her for me." Declan's grandfather said, smiling smugly. Declan hangs up and scrolls aimlessly through his phone while he waits.
He attempts to relax into the lounge chair he's sitting in, the cool ocean breeze flowing around him as he counts down the moments to finally meet the woman his father arranged for him. His eyes slide shut as he waits, and he only opens them when someone steps in front of the warm afternoon sun.
Before he can confront the human shield his protests die in his mouth. Holy shit, this is the girl his father got for him? Suddenly faking a marriage didn't seem nearly as hard. "Mia, I presume? I'm Declan, but you already knew that." He stands up to greet her properly. "My father didn't tell me you were, um..." There's no way to delicately say she's not white without sounding racist, so he keeps his mouth shut. "...so beautiful."



