Chapter 17: The Night We Chose Each Other
886 Words
The club was still loud at 2:47 AM.
Bass shaking the floor. Neon lights cutting across sweat and perfume and bad decisions. Club Vex smelled like vodka, money, and secrets.
I was behind the bar wiping the same glass for the third time because my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Three hours. That’s how long I’d been watching him.
Aiden Hale.
CEO of Hale Industries. 29. Worth 4.2 billion. And the only man in the entire club who wasn’t drunk, dancing, or trying to buy someone.
He was sitting in the VIP booth alone. Black suit. No tie. Two fingers of whiskey that he hadn’t touched. Watching everyone like they were a problem he had to solve.
My manager, Tara, leaned over the bar. “Zuri. Table 8. Now.”
“I’m on bar.”
“Not anymore. Hale asked for you specifically.”
My stomach dropped. “Me?”
“Don’t mess this up. He tips in hundreds.”
I set the glass down. My uniform was too short. My makeup was melting. And I had $43 in my bank account and rent due in 4 days.
So I walked over.
“Mr. Hale?”
He looked up. And for a second the entire club went quiet. Not really. But in my head it did.
Dark hair. Dark eyes. Jaw that could cut glass. He looked tired. The kind of tired that money can’t fix.
“You’re the bartender,” he said. Voice low. Like he was used to people listening.
“Yes sir.”
“Sit.”
I blinked. “Sir?”
“Sit. I’m not going to bite.” A pause. “Unless you want me to.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “I’m working.”
“You’re off in 10 minutes. Sit for 9.”
It wasn’t a question.
So I sat. Across from a billionaire at 2:48 AM in a club that smelled like trouble.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“The truth.”
“About?”
“Why you keep looking at me like I’m going to ruin your life.”
I almost laughed. “Because you could. With one phone call.”
He studied me. “What’s your name?”
“Zuri.”
“Zuri,” he repeated. Like he was testing it. “I need a wife, Zuri.”
Okay. Not what I expected.
“Excuse me?”
“A wife. For six months. Public. Legal. In exchange for 2 million dollars and any debt you have cleared.”
The music kept playing but I couldn’t hear it.
“Is this a joke?”
“No. My board wants me married. My ex wants my company. My grandmother is dying and her last wish is to see me settled.” He leaned forward. “You look like you need the money. I need the ring. Mutually beneficial.”
I should’ve said no. I should’ve laughed and walked away.
But I thought about my mom’s hospital bills. About the eviction notice on my door. About being 24 and so tired.
“How do I know you won’t...”
“Hurt you?” He finished. “You don’t. But I don’t hurt people, Zuri. I make deals.”
“And after six months?”
“We divorce. Clean. No strings.”
I stared at my hands. At the chipped nail polish. At the desperation I was trying to hide.
“One condition,” I said.
“What?”
“It has to be real. While we’re married. No cheating. No using me for PR only. If we’re doing this, we do it right.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Respect, maybe.
“Deal.”
He pulled out a contract from his jacket. Of course he had a contract. At a club. At 3 AM.
“Read it. Lawyer will call you tomorrow. Wedding is Saturday.”
“Saturday?! That’s in 3 days!”
“My grandmother doesn’t have 3 weeks.”
I signed. Because I was stupid. Because I was desperate. Because he looked at me like I was a person and not a problem.
---
Saturday came too fast.
White dress. Not mine. His stylist picked it. $12,000. It felt like wearing someone else’s life.
The courthouse was empty except for his lawyer, my mom who cried the whole time, and a judge who looked bored.
“Do you, Aiden Hale, take Zuri Collins to be your wife?”
“I do.”
“Do you, Zuri Collins, take Aiden Hale to be your husband?”
My voice shook. “I do.”
Ring on my finger. 3 carats. Cold.
Then it was over.
In the car after, he didn’t touch me. He just looked out the window.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For ruining my life?”
“For saving mine.”
That was the first night.
---
The mansion was bigger than my entire apartment building.
Marble floors. Glass walls. A kitchen I was afraid to use.
“You have your own wing,” he said, walking me to a hallway. “Staff has been told you’re my wife. Not a guest.”
“And what are you to me?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He stopped. “I’m trying to figure that out too.”
His room was
- Writer
