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1303 Words
Hazel stood outside the men’s restroom with her arms folded and her foot tapping impatiently on the glossy black floor. The bass from the music vibrated through the club walls, but she barely heard it over the frantic beat of her own heart. The humiliation from earlier still stung, but her desperation burned hotter. That man was not going to escape her twice. Not tonight. Not when her entire life depended on one reckless decision.
When she saw the door swing open, she lunged at the figure stepping out, grabbing the collar of his jacket without hesitation. She didn’t even check whether it was the same man or not. She pinned the stranger to the wall, standing on tiptoe, feeling her heart hammering against her ribs.
“Do you want to marry me now?” she demanded, her voice loud enough to make a couple walking past glance in her direction.
The man she held froze, stunned. His hands flew up in surrender, his eyes wide, clearly not the one she had been chasing. Hazel blinked once, realizing she had the wrong person, then quickly released him with a mumbled apology. Before he could respond, she stepped back, scanning the area again.
Then she saw him.
The man who had run from her earlier was leaning against the wall a few feet away, arms crossed, watching her with the same unreadable expression as before. The dim bar lights cast shadows against his sharp features. His eyes were cold and observant, like he was trying to decipher her insanity from a safe distance.
Hazel marched toward him and slammed her hand against the wall beside his head, trapping him easily despite their height difference. She stood on her tiptoes again, pressing her palm against his chest for balance as she stared straight into his eyes.
“Do you want to marry me now?” she repeated, her voice childish but her tone sharp with authority. Her words were almost a challenge, as if daring him to run again.
The man’s eyelids lifted slowly. His gaze swept across her dark eyeliner, the bold red lipstick, the smudged shadow beneath her eyes from crying earlier. Her attempt at gothic makeup had made her look wild and rebellious rather than older. Her cheeks were flushed from stress and adrenaline. She looked like trouble wrapped in glitter.
The man scoffed softly. “You again.”
“Obviously,” Hazel replied. “I have been standing here waiting for you like a stalker.”
“You look like one,” he said.
Hazel ignored the comment because she had more important things to deal with. She planted both hands on her hips. “I asked you a question. Answer it.”
His brows rose slightly in amusement. “Get off, kid.”
Hazel froze. Her eyes widened. The insult hit harder than the slap her father gave her. She felt her pride spark like dry wood thrown into fire. She stepped forward until she was practically pressing her forehead against his chest.
“Kid?” she echoed.
He gave a bored shrug. “That is what you look like with all that smudged makeup.”
Hazel felt her eyebrow twitch. She clicked her tongue lightly, a habit she had when annoyed. It sounded exactly like a small beast being provoked and ready to bite.
Very well, old man, she thought indignantly. You have successfully caught the attention of this young master.
She didn’t care if he was a bodyguard, a security guy, a fighter, or even a male escort. She needed a contract husband and she was getting one tonight. She took a breath, lifting her chin with stubborn courage.
“It is just a contractual marriage,” Hazel insisted, her voice low but firm. “Three months, tops.”
The man said nothing. He simply stared at her as if waiting for her to finish.
Hazel leaned forward slightly. The scent from his jacket drifted up to her nose. Clean, cold, faintly minty. Not alcoholic like most of the men in here. He held himself differently too. Dangerous, but controlled. A man used to being obeyed, not chased.
She took another step closer, forcing him to adjust his posture against the wall. He didn’t physically move her away, which gave her a small spark of encouragement. Hazel placed her hand lightly on his wrist, pretending it was accidental, though her heart was racing too much for subtlety.
“You are not being forced to do anything,” Hazel said softly. “I will pay you. Good money. Enough for whatever you might need.”
His jaw shifted slightly. “I don’t need money.”
Hazel paused. That was unexpected. Most people she had seen tonight were drowning in debts and bad decisions. But this man looked… different. Like he didn’t belong here, yet somehow owned the space with his presence.
“Everyone needs money,” Hazel replied quietly. “Even I do.”
The man gave no response.
Hazel continued, words spilling from her chest like water from a cracked pitcher. “My father wants to marry me off tomorrow. To a man old enough to be my grandfather. A man who touches me whenever he gets the chance. I cannot stay there. I cannot let them decide my life. I need this marriage. Not forever. Just three months. Then we go our separate ways. You keep the money and walk away. No strings.”
She could feel her emotions trembling inside her chest, but she forced herself to stay steady.
“I do not want to run away and hide,” Hazel whispered. “I want something legal. Something they cannot force me out of. Something that protects me. And you are the only person I have asked.”
The man looked down at her, eyes narrowing slightly, as if her words caught him off guard. Hazel wondered if she looked as pitiful as she sounded. She hoped not. She did not want pity. She wanted cooperation.
Hazel suddenly realized something. The man had run earlier, but he had not left the club. He was still here. Watching her. Waiting, maybe. Or maybe not. But he hadn’t walked out the door.
If he truly wanted nothing to do with her, he would have been long gone.
Hazel lifted her chin, regaining her confidence. “So what do you say? You want to marry me now?”
The man finally moved. His hand rose slowly, pushing a strand of her hair away from her face as if examining her more clearly. Hazel froze at the unexpected touch. His fingers brushed her cheek lightly before he dropped his hand.
“You should not ask random men to marry you,” he murmured.
“You should not run away from women who need your help,” she snapped.
“I had no obligation to help you,” he answered.
“And yet you are still standing here,” Hazel shot back.
He exhaled quietly, almost like a hidden laugh was trying to escape. His eyes softened by a fraction. Just a fraction. But Hazel caught it.
That tiny shift lit a flame inside her.
Hazel stepped even closer, almost chest to chest with him now, her voice dropping lower. “You are not scared of me. You just think I am a child playing dress up. But I am not. I am serious. And I am desperate. And you are my best option. I am not letting you walk away from me again.”
A muscle in his jaw tensed as if her determination was both irritating and oddly impressive.
Hazel slid her hand down, brushing against his wrist again.
“I won’t treat you unfairly,” she whispered, her voice soft but steady. “Won’t you consider it?”
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