Unwanted guest
894 Words
ALISA'S POV
My heart sank to the floor at the sight before me.
Caden was standing there in a suit that looked more expensive than anything I had ever seen. He was alone, and thank goodness, Mabel was standing just next to him.
"Oh my God, Mabel!" I cried, charging forward to pull her into my embrace. She was shaking.
"Are you okay? Did he harm you?" I whispered.
"I’m fine, Lis. I’ve just never been so close to a gun… a gun that actually works," she said with a wry smile.
While we were talking, the dickhead was already making himself comfortable on Mabel’s couch.
"Let’s just sit," Mabel said, holding my hand.
I nodded. We locked the doors and closed the curtains.
"What are you doing here?" I asked him. His eyes were busy scanning me from head to toe. Mabel sat opposite him, just in case he wanted to be funny again.
"Did you really think you could actually run away from me?" he said, relaxing further into the cushions. His cool, deep voice filled the room.
I didn't respond.
"This isn't my apart—"
"Obviously not," he said, looking around. "The money in your account definitely can’t sustain this kind of place." He added a bit of mockery at the end.
I felt my blood boil. "Who are you and what do you want from me?"
"Could you help me with some water?" he asked Mabel.
She only shook her head and went into the kitchen.
"I like her," he said, looking at me. "She didn't slap me twice when I approached her."
He was talking about the night we met.
"I'll do it again if you don't start talking," I said, my patience running out.
He got up, his height very noticeable beside my rather small stature.
"You know what? You're right. Let's move straight to business," he said, putting his hands in his slacks. "I’m pretty sure you already know who I am. We’ve both been the top two trending news subjects—or rather, suspects."
He paced the floor. "Apparently, your boyfriend Tristan... his father is one of my father's greatest friends. But like they say, blood is thicker than water—or rather, friendship. The shot your stupid brother made was supposed to be for one of our rivals that night. He was supposed to be there, and he drives the same car as Tristan."
"What do you mean, my boyfriend?" I said, cutting him off.
"Well, some news reporters went to your workplace. A lady who claims to be your friend says you guys meet outside every night and you're always eager to go home early because he's always waiting outside ready to pick you up."
"That’s… that’s not true! Why would they say that?"
"It doesn't matter why. It’s about how we're going to change the narrative," he said. "I'm powerful, but definitely not as powerful as Arthur Geraldine. That's Tristan's father."
"What... Wait. So you mean people are actually looking for me… to kill me?"
"No. To question you. Then they'll kill you," he said, making me put my hands over my mouth unconsciously.
"Why do you care about my reputation?" I asked.
"I don't. I was supposed to kill you that night, but I didn't. You were a witness. And honestly, I think that would have been the best option for the both of us."
"How dare you say that!"
"I'm being realistic," he said, walking back and forth. "Now I'm tangled up with you. You've seen the images."
"No, I’m tangled up with you," I corrected him. "You should have just let me go. You kissed me! Your horny ass caused all this!" I fired back.
His eyes lit up, just the way I had seen them the other night. His gaze moved over my face, landing on my lips.
"Well, I guess you're welcome then," he said.
"What do you mean 'I’m welcome'? Are you crazy or something? Or is this just how all these rich, stuck-up men behave now?"
I took a breath. "Where is my brother?"
"He’s safe for now. If what I came here for isn't accomplished, then I'll have no choice but to hand him over to Arthur."
"Why would you do that? You were the one who sent him on your crazy mission! You would be the one I’ll hand over!" I said, clenching my fists.
"You talk a lot for a poor street girl." He stopped and dropped a file on Mabel’s center table.
"There's only one way we can settle this," he said.
"What is that?"
"A contract."
"A contract for what?" I asked.
"Due to our current situation, the only way to twist the narrative is for us to get married."
The word sounded funny. He was joking. He was crazy and truly a psychopath.
"You're crazy," I said, finally taking my seat.
"I'm not forcing you, I have my ways. You'll be the one running back," he said, his voice turning dark and cold. "My personal assistant's number is in there. Two days max to make a decision. Don't come to my doorstep when the forty-eight hours are up. I'll hand you over to them myself."
He turned and walked out with pure grace—like he hadn't just almost killed my best friend and asked to marry a stranger.
- Writer
