90 DAYS OF BEING HIS WIFE

CHAPTER FIVE

The Lamborghini’s engine stopped, and I heard the door click open. Daimon opened the door for me. How gentlemanly. I rolled my eyes as I stepped out of the car, feeling the heavy gown’s weight. It wasn't cheap, of course; it had been bought by Daimon’s team, and it screamed money.

My feet landed on the ground, and I straightened up as Daimon closed the door gently. There, I faced a massive crowd watching us. There were cameras pointing at us from every angle as the shutter buttons clicked furiously. I almost covered my eyes.

“Gosh, Daimon, can you tell them to stop taking pictures?” I said to him, but he just shook his head and strode ahead of me, leaving me to face the sharks alone.

I rolled my eyes as I stepped toward the inside of the fence where all the people were sitting, talking, and drinking. There was a red carpet. Oh, I bet this would be wonderful. Of course, this was my first marriage ever. I would need to feel romantic, or fake it romantically, because I had signed a contract. It was a ninety-day billionaire wife contract, after all.

I stepped onto the red carpet. My shoes weren’t cheap anymore. They had been replaced with suitable, shiny blue crystal heels, just like the ones from the Cinderella movies. As I stepped, cameras shuttered and blinding lights hit my eyes. People stared at me like I was some kind of wonderful fairy tale princess.

I blinked the spots from my eyes and spotted Daimon already standing beside the priest. He walked fast. Or maybe time was just moving weirdly for me. None of that mattered because I was already walking toward the man I was going to marry right now. The gown was so tight that I could barely walk straight.

Now I stood in front of Daimon. The priest stared at him, then at me, and then down at his book. I could feel my own heartbeat. It was fast, and my throat went dry for a minute as Daimon leaned into my ear. The air changed instantly.

“Act rich. Act normal. Act like a good wife,” he whispered before leaning back.

I nodded. I felt my legs trembling as I spotted all of the eyes staring at me. They were like tigers that wouldn't let their prey get away. To the crowd, it looked romantic, but inside, I felt fifty percent romantic and fifty percent terrified.

I turned toward him and stared directly into his eyes, locking our gaze. The performance started now. I needed five thousand dollars for the surgery. I needed Dad to be alive. I needed this to work. Now, all I had to do was act. But facing him made my cheeks burn, and I was sure that he could see the flush on my skin. God, this was so embarrassing.

No, this is for Dad, I told myself. I can do this.

But my resolve was shaking just by facing a delicately handsome, hot man with eyes so commanding that I felt I could kiss him right now. My heart started beating faster than earlier.

Before the priest could speak a single word, someone interrupted us. Heels echoed against the floor as a woman stepped toward Daimon. It was Eleanor, Daimon’s mother. He had mentioned her name earlier in the car, telling me that I should be respectful and elegant in front of her and act like a real, sweet billionaire wife.

Eleanor was wearing an expensive dress from a brand like Gucci. It was a high-end fabric that was so very shiny, like a diamond but in a yellow color. It caught everyone’s attention because of its quality and unique style. I was fifty percent sure it was custom, and fifty percent very sure she hated me already.

She leaned into Daimon’s ear. Daimon’s face faltered for a second, his mask slipping before he returned it back to normal. He spoke loud enough that I could hear and the priest could too.

“No, Mom, I will marry this woman. Please do not make a scandal in this place,” he said firmly.

Eleanor scoffed and rolled her eyes. She swayed her beautiful short brown hair as she walked away from us. Once her presence was gone and she sat back in her chair, everything felt heavy for a moment. I was actually going to be married.

“What was that?” I asked Daimon.

He shook his head. “Do not talk. Now, priest, continue,” he commanded.

The priest nodded, and I saw him sweating like he was scared of Mr. Daimon. I didn’t give a s**t about that. All I needed was to get married to this man so I could have the five thousand dollars a week—or maybe even ten thousand grand. I needed the money for my father’s surgery, of course. That was what would make my world happy and full of joy.

After the priest spoke about the Bible and the stuff about getting married, he said the final words.

“Now, put the rings on each other,” he said.

His voice was deep and bold. We put the rings on each other’s fingers. His fingers were as cold as thin ice. I had expected them to be hot, just like him.

“Now, you may kiss the bride,” the priest finished.

My eyes widened as my world started to slow down. I had forgotten about that part. Every marriage had to have a kiss.

“Shall we?” Daimon asked, sending a shiver down my spine.

I saw him mold a grin, and he licked his peach-colored lips. He tugged his suit and placed both of his hands on my cheeks. This was really happening.