“What made you leave work so early?” he asked.
I watched his lips closely, tracking each word. “I w-was fired.”
His brow lifted, not in concern—just mild curiosity.
He reached for the bottle and poured himself another shot. “Why?”
“My... my boss... he asked me out a month ago,” I said, voice tight. “I... I said no. Told him... I have a fiancé. That... that we’re getting married soon. I thought... I thought he... he accepted it.”
Harris knocked back the shot in one swallow, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“He... he didn’t,” I continued, my voice trembling. “Today... today he... he ridiculed me. Said I was deaf and... and dumb.Told me I should be grateful... grateful that someone like him even... even wanted me. And then... then he fired me.”
Silence stretched between us. He studied me—not with sympathy, but calculation—then shrugged.
“And you didn’t plead?”
The word hit harder than the firing.
“Pl-Plead?” My voice cracked despite my effort to keep it steady. “He... he wouldn’t have... he wouldn’t have taken back the firing... unless I said yes... to his... his ridiculous proposal. Unless... unless I let him have... what he wanted.”
Harris leaned back, eyes drifting to the ceiling. “You realize there’s no love in this, right?”
I stiffened.
“This marriage,” he went on casually. “It’s paperwork. A deal two dead old men made behind our backs. I’m not about to lose sleep—or my freedom—over it.”
I stared at him, the distance between us suddenly vast.
“I didn’t come here for love,” I said quietly. “I c-came because I didn’t want to be alone.”
He laughed softly, humorless. “Then you came to the wrong place.”
The words settled like a weight in my chest.
My chest tightened, a coil of tension squeezing my lungs. “Are you... saying I don’t... I don’t have to... be faithful to the arrangement?” I forced each word out, slow, deliberate, like stepping across broken glass. My throat tightened, and my next words barely escaped. “And... you? Have... have you been... with other women?”
He laughed once—short, harsh, humorless.
It wasn’t amusement. It was the kind of laugh that left no room for argument. “Women? Please,” he said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, the half-empty bottle dangling carelessly from his fingers. “I’ve got women on speed dial. I call whenI want. They come. We have fun. They leave. No strings. No drama. Nothing to be ashamed of. You understand?”
I swallowed, dry and bitter. The casual cruelty in his tone made the blood drain from my face.
“You’re doing this for the inheritance,” he continued, gaze locked on me like I was some puzzle he was amused to watch struggle. “I’m doing it for the same reason. Once the papers are signed, once the accounts transfer, we divorce. Clean break. You walk away rich. I walk away richer. That’s the deal. That’s the only deal.”
I stared at him. The man I was supposed to marry in less than twenty-four hours. The man I had tried—foolishly, desperately—to imagine as someone who could change, someone who might one day care, just a fraction. Someone who might, after the vows, see me as a person instead of a clause in a contract.
“Right,” I said quietly, the word trembling on my lips despite my effort to keep steady.
He didn’t notice. Or maybe he did and simply didn’t care. He poured another drink into the glass, a lazy tilt of the wrist, and offered it toward me.
I shook my head.
He shrugged again, slow, easy, like he had all the time in the world. “You should’ve gone back to your boss... said yes. Let him have his fun. One night—for a job you’re desperate for. It’s just sex. Just... penetration. Doesn’t mean anything. Does it? Or would you rather starve before finding another job... if you even could, given... your... condition?”
The words sank into me like shards of ice, each one piercing deeper than the last.
My chest felt hollow, my ribs crushed under the weight of his cruelty.
