Four
1544 Words
ETHAN
The box sat on my dining table like an elephant in the room. Lavish was an understatement. The glossy black wrapping paper shimmered under the light, and the golden bow tied around it looked like it cost more than my monthly rent. Inside was a watch—no, a masterpiece.
It wasn’t just any watch. The diamonds embedded in its bezel gleamed like tiny stars, and the craftsmanship screamed exclusivity. I didn’t need to know the brand to guess its worth—it was the kind of item only the wealthiest could afford.
“I'm sorry but I can't accept this” I said to the surprise of Celia who stared at me with wide eyes.
“You've already rejected my gifts twice. You have to take this…please” Celia cooed with a doe eyes and I shrugged.
“Like I said earlier,I did this because it's the right thing. Collecting this would make my help feel monetary. For that reason, I'd be rejecting this’’
Celia's jaw dropped, her lips parting as though she wanted to protest but couldn’t find the words. Her assistant, standing silently by the doorway, shifted uncomfortably, clearly unused to seeing his employer so flustered.
“This…” she started, her voice tinged with frustration, “this isn’t about money, Ethan. It’s about gratitude.”
“And I appreciate the sentiment,” I said, my tone firm yet measured. “But my answer is still no. I’m not the kind of man who takes something like this for doing what anyone decent would’ve done.”
For a moment, the room was filled with an awkward silence. Celia stared at me, her perfectly sculpted brows furrowed, as if she were trying to figure out if I was stubborn or stupid.
Finally, she sighed and turned to her assistant. “Fine. Take it back.”
The assistant hesitated, his eyes darting between the two of us, before giving a small nod. He picked up the box, his movements careful, almost reverent, and disappeared out the door.
“Happy now?” Celia asked, folding her arms across her chest.
“Very,” I replied.
Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, a mixture of curiosity and exasperation flickering in her eyes, before she turned on her heel and left without another word.
I thought that was the end of it.
It wasn’t.
****
The next morning, I was startled awake by the shrill ring of my phone. Groaning, I reached over and grabbed it off the nightstand. It was an unknown number,I hesitated for a while before finally picking
“Ethan Hale,” I mumbled, my voice groggy.
“I apologize for disturbing your sleep Mr. Hale but this is William Laurent.”
My eyes shot open as I sat straight on the bed. If I hadn' been in contact with her daughter yesterday,I would have dismiss the call as a prank some creeps are pulling because no way I'm hell William Laurent will call me.
“Mr Hale?” His voice snapped me back and I hurriedly mustered a response.
“Yes yes,Mr Laurent”
“I received a video last night from my granddaughter’s assistant. You refused a gift worth millions. That’s rare in today’s world.” His tone was calm, but there was a sharpness behind it that made me tread carefully.
I see where this is going.
“I didn’t help her for a reward, sir. It was just the right thing to do,” I replied.
There was a pause, followed by a low chuckle. “Honesty. Another rarity. I’ll get straight to the point, Ethan. I like you. You remind me of myself when I was younger—stubborn, proud, but with principles. That’s why I want you to bring your identification to q city hall this morning.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I would really love you to come, Mr. Hale. Be there at 10 a.m sharp. I’m a busy man, so don’t be late.”
Before I could respond, the line went dead.
For a moment, I stared at the blank screen, shaking my head. There was no way I was going. Absolutely not.
Yet, an hour later, I found myself standing outside city hall.
I told myself it was morbid curiosity that got me here. Maybe it was. But as I stared at the imposing stone facade, every instinct screamed at me to turn around and leave. Still, a stubborn part of me pushed forward. What could possibly be so urgent that a man like Mr. Laurent would demand my presence?
Then I heard it—the sharp click of heels against the polished floor. I turned instinctively toward the sound, and there she was.
Celia Laurent.
She stood by the registration desk, her posture as poised as ever. Her white dress was simple yet elegant, the kind of understated sophistication only someone with her kind of wealth could pull off. She looked up as I approached, her expression unreadable.
“You came,” she said, her voice steady, though I caught a flicker of something—relief, maybe—in her eyes.
“Your grandfather didn’t leave me much of a choice,” I replied, my tone sharper than I intended.
Her lips quirked into a faint smile. “He tends to have that effect on people.”
“What’s this about, Celia?”
She glanced around, as if ensuring no one was within earshot, before meeting my gaze. “It’s simple, Ethan. My grandfather admires you, and I… need a husband.”
I blinked, certain I’d misheard her. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she said calmly. “This isn’t about love or romance or any of that. It’s about fulfilling a promise to my grandfather. And you’re the perfect candidate.”
I stared at her, trying to process her words. “You’re serious.”
“Completely.”
“This is insane.”
“Maybe,” she admitted, a faint hint of amusement in her voice. “But you’re here, which means some part of you is considering it.”
I hesitated, her words hitting closer to the truth than I cared to admit. It made no sense really.. getting married to the heir of the most successful company in New York. I didn't even know her apart from the little conversation we had last night. But I needed a wife. And if this is a chance
“Alright. Let’s do this.” I exhaled, running a hand through my hair
Celia stared at me as though I had grown horns.
“You're accepting, really??”
“Yes, isn't that what you want?” I asked,taken aback by her question.
She gulped down and mustered a smile that didn't reach her face. “Yeah sure. Let's get this over with”
We stood before the registrar, my mind tumbling with different thoughts. Getting married to Celia Laurent isn't something I had anticipated but we'll,here I am
“Ethan,” she said, her voice quieter than before. “You can still back out. No one will blame you.”
I met her gaze. “I’ve made my decision.”
She nodded, though the flicker of doubt in her eyes remained.
The process was shockingly quick. One moment, we were signing papers; the next, we were officially husband and wife. Celia handed me a small silver key as we walked out of the building.
“This is for the house,” she said. “It’s yours now, too. Move in if you want—or don’t. It doesn’t matter to me.”
I stiffened. There was no way I'd move in with her,it was supposed to be the reverse but the intense look on her face propelled me into accepting. “Thanks”
She nodded, as if she had expected no less. “Ethan, let’s be clear about something. This marriage is a formality, nothing more. I did this for my grandfather, not for us. We'd act the role of loving couples on the outside,but inside, we're free to do whatever we want. So don’t take it too seriously.”
Her words were blunt and a surprising wave of relief washed through me. Contract marriage? Suits me well.
“You’re free to see other women if you want and I can see other men without any interference from both parties” She added.
“Right, that's okay by me.” I mumbled
She nodded,not bothering to reply before she turned on her heels.
“Wait,” I called after her.
She paused, looking back at me with a raised brow.
“Three things. I have three requests” I said. “First, we exchange contact information. My mom’s going to have questions, and I need a way to reach you.”
“Fine,” she said, pulling out her phone.
“Second,” I continued, “I’ll give you three thousand dollars a month for shared expenses.”
She smirked and let out a slight chuckle. “I don’t need your money, but if it makes you feel better, I won’t refuse.”
“And third,” I said, my tone serious, “what are your expectations about… our physical relationship? s*x I mean”
- Writer
