“And sometimes, we have to do what wehatein order to get what we want.” She stared right at me. “I might not know a lot. But I know this much: Both our families pitched us together for their own gain.”
At this point, I was starting to like her thinking.
She continued, “One look at you, and I already can tell that you hate this as much as I do. Now, without a proper plan on how we’re going to spend the rest of our lives trapped together, we might kill each other before the year runs out.”
I raised my brows. “And by ‘kill each other,’ I’m sure you meanyouwould end up six feet under.”
She let out a quiet scoff. “You underestimate me. And that’s your biggest problem.”
My lips curled into a mischievous grin, knowing this was a worthy opponent. Not a wife. I couldn’t help but be intrigued by her and her pattern of thinking. Like I said, she was different—a survivor and a warrior.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” I said, withdrawing a neatly folded paper from my inner jacket.
“What’s this?” she asked after I slid it over to her.
“A contract outlining your role,” I answered, handing her a pen. “One year. No intimacy.”
The relief on her face was clear as crystal.
“You mentioned earlier on the street that you’re a lawyer. Good,” I continued. “You’ll work as my assistant. That way you won’t be a useless burden on me.”
She glared at me, her brows knitting together. “You really need to work on your communication skills, especially when you speak to me.”
Her words sounded more like a threat than a weightless statement. A part of me was fascinated by her bravery and the flicker of defiance in those brown doe eyes of hers.
I watched her sign the paperwork, and after she was done, she slid it back across the table. When I reached for it, my hand brushed against hers in a fleeting second. That instant, a strange spark jolted through my body, igniting a mysterious flame within me.
“One year,” she said, holding my gaze. “One year, and we’re done.”
A small, self-satisfied grin tugged at one corner of my mouth. “Works for me.”
“Good,” she said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m starving.”
I leaned back in my chair, intrigued by her free spirit and originality. She grabbed the polished silverware and then turned her attention to the plate.
She took one bite of her roasted chicken and closed her eyes, as if savoring the taste in her mouth. “Hmm. This is delicious.” A quiet sigh slipped through her lips as she chewed slowly.
I found myself almost smiling from just watching her be herself. Everything about her was authentic; she was true to herself, her feelings, and didn’t fake anything. I admired that about her. I liked how she didn’t hide who she was—how she wasn’t afraid of being judged.
At that moment, I knew one thing for sure: This was going to be a strange year for both of us. And she was going to test my patience in ways no one else had.
Chapter 5 – Emika
Eight Days Later
Everything happened so fast, and it felt like just yesterday that I had gone to my supposed grandfather for help. I still couldn’t believe how quickly my life had changed in less than a few days.
Today was my wedding day, but my mother wasn’t around, nor were my friends. Celine would’ve been here to support me, but she was out of town taking care of something important.
She’d tried to convince me not to go along with the wedding. But after hearing the full story, she understood why it was necessary. And although she still hated the idea, there was nothing either of us could do about it.
I was going to be married to that arrogant man with a condescending attitude and the pride of a fuckin’ peacock. Even though we’d both agreed to only stay married for a year before going our separate ways, I still couldn’t help the pain twisting in my chest.
“Smack your lips,” the makeup artist murmured, her soft voice pulling me from my reverie.
I blinked, then complied, the scent of the red lipstick drifting into my nostrils.
She adjusted the ring light directly on my face, pulling her head back as if checking out her work. “Perfect.” Her lips curved into a smile.
