His Contracted Wife

Chapter 6: An offer She meant not to accept

Gianna nearly choked on the food still lodged in her mouth because of what he had just said.

The paper slipped from her fingers as her eyes widened, slowly lifting to meet his unreadable expression. For a moment, her mind refused to process his words—so casually spoken, as if he had merely asked her to hand him a glass of water.

“W-What?” she asked, her voice barely steady.

Anthony Sinclair didn’t flinch. “You heard me, Ms. Castillo,” he said coldly. “Marry me.”

There was no trace of emotion on his face. No hesitation. No sign that he understood—or cared—how absurd and outrageous his proposal sounded. He stood there, offering marriage as though it were a simple business deal, something easily signed and forgotten.

Gianna fell silent. She studied his expression, half-expecting him to break into a cruel smile or reveal that this was some twisted joke. But Anthony Sinclair was not a man who joked. He barely smiled. Humor was a foreign concept to him.

Slowly, she slid the marriage contract back into the brown envelope, her hands trembling.

“Sir,” she said carefully, “this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to make you laugh,” Anthony replied immediately. “Marry me. I’ll raise your salary. Just sign the marriage contract.”

Her brows furrowed deeply. “For what?” she demanded. “Why do you need me to marry you, Mr. Sinclair?”

“Just sign the damn contract,” he snapped, impatience seeping into his voice.

“I won’t. Why would I—”

“Because I said so,” he cut in sharply. “I’m ordering you, Ms. Castillo.”

Gianna’s chest tightened, but instead of fear, something else surged through her—anger. “My job is to manage your schedule,” she said firmly, surprising even herself, “not to be your wife.”

For the first time since she started working for him, the fear she always felt around Anthony Sinclair disappeared.

“There are plenty of women who want you, sir,” she continued. “I’m sure they’d accept your offer without hesitation.”

She closed her lunchbox, appetite completely gone.

“I’m your boss,” Anthony said coldly. “You have no right to refuse me.”

Gianna looked up at him, meeting his glare head-on. “Yes, you are my boss, Mr. Sinclair,” she replied calmly. “But your proposal has nothing to do with my job.”

She stood up, her legs shaky but determined. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”

Without waiting for his response, she turned and walked away.

The moment she reached the comfort room and locked the door behind her, her knees gave out.

She grabbed the sink for support, her reflection pale and shaken. Her hands trembled violently, her legs weak beneath her.

Fear finally crashed into her. She had talked back to Anthony Sinclair. She had rejected him.

Her heart pounded painfully in her chest as a thousand thoughts raced through her mind.

Maybe he would fire her. Maybe this was the end of her job. But who in their right mind would accept such an offer?

Other women—yes. She could easily imagine them screaming in delight, bragging about it to their friends. If Anthony Sinclair offered them a marriage contract, they’d grab it without a second thought.

But her?

No way.

Why would she marry a man who gave her headaches every single day? A man who had made her life miserable from the moment she became his assistant? A man who treated her like nothing more than a tool?

She splashed water on her face, trying to calm herself. No. She would rather lose her job than lose herself.

***

The nightclub was loud and chaotic.

Heavy music thundered through the space, vibrating against the walls. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke, mixed with sweat and perfume. In every corner, bodies pressed together, couples making out without shame.

Anthony Sinclair sat at a VIP table with three of his closest friends.

Several hours had passed since he arrived. He had consumed more alcohol than usual, yet none of it affected him. His tolerance was as high as his walls.

He held his glass loosely, eyes distant, thoughts drowning in frustration—until one of his friends decided to break the silence.

“So,” Caleb said, leaning back in his chair, eyes fixed on Anthony. “What brings you here?”

The two women sitting beside Ethan and Jericho were dismissed with a single glance. They stood and left obediently, like trained lambs.

Ethan and Jericho straightened in their seats, their attention now fully on Anthony.

“You wouldn’t be here if something wasn’t wrong,” Caleb added, pouring more alcohol into his glass.

Jericho smirked. “Let me guess. Your mother?”

Anthony’s eyes flickered.

Jericho and Ethan burst into laughter, having clearly hit the mark.

Anthony said nothing. He downed his drink in one go and poured himself another.

“What did your mother do this time?” Caleb asked. “You look like you’re about to kill someone.”

“Do we even need to ask?” Ethan scoffed. “She’s probably forcing him to marry Samantha again. Didn’t she pull the same stunt last year?”

Anthony remained silent, his aura dark and heavy.

“You can’t get rid of your mother?” Caleb asked carefully.

Anthony turned to him slowly. He placed his glass down, took a cigarette from the table, lit it, and inhaled deeply.

He exhaled smoke before meeting Caleb’s gaze. “Should I kill her?”

Ethan and Jericho exchanged shocked looks.

“Dude,” Ethan said quickly, “she’s still your mother.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Anthony replied coldly. “I can’t kill her. And I can’t shut her up.”

The anger in his voice was unmistakable.

“What about your father?” Jericho asked. “Does he know what she’s doing?”

“No,” Anthony said. “He’s in the U.S. I won’t add to his stress. I’ll handle her myself.”

Caleb handed him another drink. “Speaking of your dad,” Caleb added, “how is he?”

“He’s fine,” Anthony replied. “His leg is recovering. The doctor said he’ll be able to walk again soon.”

Silence settled between the four men.

Then Anthony’s phone vibrated. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen.

A familiar name appeared.

His grip tightened around the glass as his mind flashed back to the incident at the office. His assistant had dared to refuse him. Had dared to talk back.

For the first time in a long while, Anthony Sinclair realized something unsettling. Gianna Castillo wasn’t like the others. And that—more than anything—infuriated him.