Xander’s Writing Princess

Chapter5

XANDER POV

"Good morning sir," my assistant John greeted me, opening the car door.

"Morning John, so what do you have for me today?" I asked, scrolling through my emails without looking up.

"Well this morning you have a meeting with the board members and the Chinese clients, and in the afternoon, you have lunch with Mrs. Steel concerning the new menu you launched for her restaurant."

"Uhh!" I groaned at the thought of that woman. "This is why I don't f**k my married clients, now she's obsessed," I mumbled to myself.

"Sir?"

"Wasn't speaking to you John, but on that note, you'll be handling the lunch with Mrs. Steel for me, you know what to do, come up with whatever excuse you can."

"Yes sir."

We got to the office and I headed straight to prepare for the meeting.

An hour later, I was in the conference room with the board members and our Chinese clients, Mr. Chen and his team.

"Gentlemen, thank you for coming," I said, taking my seat at the head of the table. "I trust you've all reviewed the proposal for our new menu launch."

Mr. Chen nodded, his expression neutral. "We have, Mr. Smith, and we find it quite interesting, this fusion of Chinese and American cuisine, tell us more about your vision."

"It's simple really," I leaned forward. "We're not just mixing two cuisines, we're creating a culinary bridge between two cultures, each dish represents a connection, a unity between East and West."

"And you believe this will be successful?" one of the board members asked.

"I know it will be, we've already done market research, the numbers are promising, people want authenticity but they also want familiarity, this gives them both."

Mr. Chen's colleague spoke up. "We appreciate the concept Mr. Smith, but we have concerns about authenticity, Chinese cuisine is not just about taste, it's about tradition, about meaning."

"I understand that completely," I said. "That's why we've consulted with authentic Chinese chefs, every dish has been carefully crafted to honor the traditional methods while incorporating American elements that make it accessible."

"For example?" Mr. Chen asked.

"Take our signature dish, the Harmony Bowl, it features traditional Mapo Tofu prepared exactly as it would be in Sichuan, but we serve it with house-made cornbread on the side, the spice from the tofu, the sweetness from the cornbread, it's balance, it's unity."

"Interesting," Mr. Chen said, exchanging glances with his team.

"And our Dragon's Gate Burger," I continued, gaining momentum. "Char Siu pork, prepared using a recipe that's been passed down for generations, served on a brioche bun with pickled vegetables, it's respect for tradition meeting modern innovation."

One of my board members added, "The test runs have been extremely successful, customer feedback has been overwhelmingly positive."

Mr. Chen sat back in his chair. "Mr. Smith, you speak well about unity and connection, about bringing families together through food."

"That's the entire concept."

"In Chinese culture, food is sacred," he said slowly. "Especially the dishes that bring families together, the meals shared between husbands and wives, parents and children, these are not just recipes, they are bonds."

"I completely understand that sir, and I respect it deeply."

"Do you?" Mr. Chen asked, his eyes sharp. "Because you see Mr. Smith, we have one condition before we can move forward with this contract."

I glanced at my board members, they looked just as confused as I felt. "What condition?"

"You must be married."

Silence dropped over the room like a bomb.

"Excuse me?" I said, sure I'd heard him wrong.

"You heard correctly," Mr. Chen said calmly. "These dishes represent unity between families, especially between couples, the only way we can trust you with something as precious as that is if you yourself understand that bond, if you are married."

"You've got to be kidding me," I said, trying to keep my voice level. "There's no way that's your actual condition."

"It is our condition."

"I've been in this business for five years," I said, my voice rising. "I have delivered nothing but perfection and not once have I ever heard such utter nonsense, marriage or not does affect the taste of my food, I can assure you that."

"It's not about taste Mr. Smith," Mr. Chen said. "It's about understanding, about authenticity, how can you sell unity when you don't practice it yourself?"

"That's ridiculous," I turned to my board members. "Are you guys hearing this?"

"Mr. Smith, perhaps we should consider," one of them started.

"Consider what? Getting married just to close a deal? That's insane."

"Mr. Chen, surely we can find another way," John tried to negotiate.

"There is no other way," Mr. Chen stood up. "We will give you two months Mr. Smith, if you are not married by then, we will find someone else, good day gentlemen."

They left, just like that, and I sat there fuming.

"This is bullshit," I said to the empty room.

The board members tried to reason with me but I wasn't hearing it, I stormed out of the conference room and back to my office.

An hour later, John knocked on my door.

"What?" I snapped.

"Sir, I have the final word from Mr. Chen's team."

"Let me guess, marry or lose the deal?"

"Yes sir, they're giving you two months before they move on to another restaurant group."

"Fine, let them," I said, turning to look out my window. "I don't care, they can give it to someone else."

"Sir, you need to calm down."

"Calm down? They're trying to control my personal life John."

"I understand that sir but this contract is worth trillions of dollars, we can't afford to lose it, it's the biggest contract of all time, we will never see an opportunity like this again."

I closed my eyes, hating that he was right.

"So what do you suggest?" I asked quietly.

"Well," John hesitated. "You could pay a woman to be your wife for the duration of the contract, which is two years, a business arrangement, nothing more."

"Pay someone to marry me?"

"It's not uncommon sir, people do it all the time for green cards, for insurance, this would just be for business."

I turned that over in my mind, hating how much sense it made.

"Leave," I said. "I need to think about it."

"Yes sir."

********

The office was so quiet after John left that I could hear my own breathing.

I stood by the window, staring down at the city below me, all these people moving around with no idea my whole world just got flipped upside down by one word.

Marriage.

My phone buzzed on the desk and I almost ignored it, until I saw the name on the screen.

Mom.

I exhaled and picked up, "Hey ma."

"Alexander James Smith, do you know how long it's been since I've seen your face?" Her voice came through, warm and sharp at the same time, only my mother could pull that off, "I'm starting to think you moved to another country and didn't tell me."

"Mom I've been busy, you know how it is."

"Busy," she repeated, as the word offended her personally, "too busy for your own mother? The woman who pushed you out into this world?"

"Here we go," I muttered, but I was already smiling a little.

"Don't hear we go me, Alexander, come home for dinner tonight, I'm not asking."

"Ma…”

"I missed my baby, is that so hard to understand? I haven't seen you in weeks, weeks Xander, do you know what that does to a mother's heart?"

"You're being dramatic."

"I'm being honest, there's a difference," she said, then softer, "just come home baby, I made brown rice and jerk chicken."

"You made brown rice knowing I'd say yes, that's manipulation."

"That's love," she corrected, "and also your father misses his chess partner, he said to tell you that."

I heard my dad's voice in the background almost immediately, "Tell him I have no one to defeat anymore, your brothers are too good, they keep making me lose every single time and it's embarrassing in my own house."

"Dad I can hear you, you don't have to relay messages through mom."

"Oh, he can hear me? Good," he got louder, clearly closer to the phone now, "come home son, these your brothers have no respect, they keep beating their old man at chess and smiling about it, smiling Xander, like it's funny."

"It kind of is funny."

"Whose side are you on?"

"I'll be honest with you dad," I said, leaning back against my desk, "the only reason you ever beat me is that I let you win, nobody else would do that for you."

Dead silence for two seconds.

Then my dad burst out laughing, "You let me win? This boy thinks he's funny, did you hear what your son just said to me?"

My mom was already laughing in the background, "I heard him, I heard him."

"This is disrespect, this is what I raised, a disrespectful boy who thinks he can…."

"Who's your favorite son though dad?"

Another pause.

"...you," he said, more like whispered, "you're my favorite, but don't tell your brothers."

"I won't," I grinned, "tell mom I'm on my way."

"Grace! He's coming! Make more brown rice!"

I ended the call still smiling, and for just one second the weight of the whole day felt lighter, not gone, just shifted enough so I could breathe again.

I packed my things, shrugged on my jacket, and headed out.

By the time I got downstairs, the car was already there, engine running, my driver standing by the door, and I hadn't even called him.

John, I thought, of course.

I got in and sank into the seat, and as the city started moving past the windows, my brain refused to shut up.

Two months. Trillions of dollars. A whole wife.

I pressed my head back against the seat and stared at the roof, because no matter how many times I turned it over, it kept landing in the same place.

"Am I really about to do this… ?”