The CEO's Contract Wife

Chapter 4

I stared at myself in the full-length mirror of the hotel suite.

I was wearing a cream-colored sheath dress—something elegant, understated, and completely devoid of joy. It was a dress I would wear to a shareholder meeting or a ribbon-cutting ceremony. It wasn’t a dress for a bride.

Tita Corazon had lent me her pearl drop earrings. They felt heavy against my lobes, cold and borrowed.

didn't look like a woman about to start her life. I looked like a woman about to close a merger.

Numbness washed over me. This was wrong. In every daydream I’d had since I was sixteen, becoming a "Mrs. Sarmiento" meant marrying Gio. It meant laughing at the altar, a garden wedding in Tagaytay, and a life with my best friend.

It definitely didn't mean a civil ceremony in a private function room with his older brother.

I was marrying Nathan. Nathan, who was ten years older than me. Nathan, who terrified half the Makati Business Club. Nathan, who was currently waiting for me outside like a stoic statue.

I smoothed the fabric over my hips, my hands trembling.

A knock on the door made me jump.

The door creaked open, and Gio slipped inside. He looked tired. He was wearing a suit, but his tie was slightly crooked, like he’d been pulling at it.

He froze when he saw me. His eyes swept over the dress, the heels, the pearls.

"Wow," he breathed out. "Issa. You look..."

"Like a sacrificial lamb?" I offered a weak smile, turning away from the mirror.

"I was going to say beautiful," he said quietly.

My chest ached. Hearing that from him today of all days was cruel. Once I walked out that door, the dynamic would shift forever. I wouldn't be his best friend anymore; I would be his sister-in-law. A barrier was coming down between us, one made of legal papers and awkward family dinners.

"I can't believe you're doing this," Gio said, taking a step closer. "Marrying Kuya."

"I don't have a choice, G. You know that."

"But why him?" Gio’s voice cracked. "If your dad wanted to keep the families together... if he wanted you to marry a Sarmiento... why not me?"

I looked at him. He was close enough now that I could smell his cologne—the same one I’d bought him for Christmas.

"It wasn't just about the name," I whispered. "The will was specific. It had to be Nathan. And besides... you have Andrea."

Gio winced at her name. He reached out, his hand hovering before gently cupping my cheek. His thumb brushed against my skin, sending a jolt of electricity through me.

"Andrea isn't you," he murmured. "She never will be."

My breath hitched. He had never said anything like that before. Why now? Why did he wait until I was minutes away from marrying his brother to finally see me?

Gio leaned in. The air in the room grew heavy, charged with years of silence and "what ifs." His eyes dropped to my lips. My heart hammered against my ribs. I closed my eyes, tilting my head up, waiting for the kiss that would ruin everything and save me at the same time. I felt his warm breath on my face.

Knock, knock.

The door swung open briskly.

We sprang apart like guilty teenagers.

Tita Corazon bustled in, checking her watch. If she saw the intimacy, she didn't show it, though her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked from Gio to me.

"All set?" she asked briskly. "The Judge is waiting. We can't keep the Mayor's friend waiting all day."

Gio cleared his throat, stepping back. He looked flushed. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

Tita Corazon walked over to me, fussing with a stray lock of my hair. "You look lovely, hija. Let's get this done."

I walked out of the room, my arm linked through Gio’s. His grip was tight, almost painful. We walked down the carpeted hallway of the Shangri-La toward the private function room. It felt like a funeral march.

I kept waiting for him to stop me. I imagined him pulling me back, telling me not to do it, telling me that we would figure out another way to save the company.

But he didn't. He couldn't. He knew the stakes just as well as I did.

We reached the double doors where Nathan was waiting. Gio hesitated for a fraction of a second, his jaw clenched, before he placed my hand into his brother's. He didn't say a word. He just turned and walked quickly toward the back of the room, unable to watch.

I looked up at Nathan.

He was impeccable, of course. His charcoal suit was tailored to perfection, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders. His face was unreadable, a mask of cool indifference. But as his hand closed over mine, I saw a flicker of something in his dark eyes. Amusement?

He leaned down, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. A shiver—completely involuntary—ran down my spine.

"So," he whispered, his voice a low rumble. "I guess that crush wasn't so one-sided after all."

I ripped my hand away from his, staring at him in horror. He saw. He saw us in the suite.

I glared at him, channeling all my frustration, grief, and embarrassment into the look. "Let's just get this over with."

He smirked, looking annoyingly handsome, and offered his arm again. "After you, Mrs. Sarmiento."

The ceremony was a blur.

The room was empty except for Attorney Valdez, Tita Corazon, and the Judge. If it were up to Nathan and me, we would have just signed the papers at City Hall and gone back to work. But Tita Corazon insisted on a "proper" ceremony, claiming it was bad luck not to say vows before God or at least a government official.

It felt insulting. We had just buried my father, and now we were playing house.

I looked at Nathan as the Judge droned on about commitment and partnership. Standing next to him, I was struck by the difference between him and Gio. Gio was a boy; he had a boy’s charm and a boy’s hesitation. Nathan was a man. He took up space. He was solid, intimidating, and frustratingly attractive.

I hated that I noticed it.

"I do," Nathan said. His voice didn't waver. It was a business decision, spoken with the clarity of a contract negotiation.

"I do," I replied, my voice quieter.

We signed the marriage license. My hand shook so badly that my signature looked like a seismograph reading during an earthquake.

I wasn't just signing a document; I was signing away my freedom for the next two years.

The Judge smiled, oblivious to the tension. "Congratulations."

I let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding for a week.

It was done. I was officially Isabelle Sarmiento. And I had never felt more alone in my life.