Twisted Vow

Olivia Carter frowns as she glances up at the wall clock in the staff changing room. The time says 11:47 PM. She sighs, thinking of the long night of double shifts ahead of her; meaning aching feet and another night of moving far away from her dreams. Olivia has always known what she wants; her dreams have nothing to do with balancing trays at Le Maison, an upscale restaurant in Manhattan, catering to people who wouldn’t spare her a single second glance. She wants to be a pastry chef, to be in her own bakery, crafting delicate pastries for people's delightful indulgences; being surrounded by the rich aroma of flavors. She's been through with her catering school over two years ago. But there's no money to start her business. But here she is, where life has boxed her into; at Le Maison. She has no choice but to accept her fate. Of course, she needs to work to put a roof over her head and to feed herself. The landlord’s eviction notice burns in her pocket like a cruel reminder of what her life has become. Two weeks. That is all she has left to pay or face eviction. On top of all of that, her late father's debt is suffocating her, threatening to crush all her hope of making something meaningful out of her life. Olivia squeezes her eyes shut to stop the tears of self-regret gathering up in her eyes from falling. ‘Get a grip on yourself, girl,’ she tells herself and stands up. She is exhaling and forcing a smile as she steps into the grand ballroom to start her work. The restaurant is hosting a charity gala for the Open Arm Foundation; the charity arm of Sterling Enterprises tonight. She looks around as the wealthy elites waltz around the large room in designer gowns and tailored suits, sipping champagne worth more than her monthly rent. ‘These people have everything money can buy,’ she thinks to herself. And I am the girl who has nothing’. The contrast always makes her sad. But there is hardly nothing she can do about it. ********** Brandon Sterling, thirty-two, the ruthless CEO of Sterling Enterprises, is sitting in the middle of the ballroom. The company's senior executives and his uncle flank him. His other family members sit at the table next to him. Brandon looks around the room and momentarily becomes bored. He is never a fan of these events. People are never acting according to how they are supposed to conduct themselves at events like this. Like tonight, which is a charity gala event. In his opinion, it is supposed to be a night of generosity and empathy for the less privileged. Instead the room is filled with people who only care about appearances and glamor. “You know, son,” Ethan Sterling, his uncle, starts talking. “I'm so glad we finally have this gala. Ethan smiles, feeling pleased with himself. “You know, this is a legacy that you should be maintaining. Just like your father and grandfather before him.” Brandon adjusts the cuff of his black tuxedo, barely listening as his uncle is rattling on. Brandon knows all too well that everything in business dynasties is about performance and showing off. Sterling Enterprises is more than able to cater for its own charity projects without gathering people together for donations. But the procedures must be followed. And he hates to follow any pattern. He prefers to do his things the way he wants, not the way his father and grandfather did theirs. “Why don’t you mingle around?” Ethan is giving Brandon a knowing look now. He lowers his voice, “there are single noble ladies all around there.” He tilts his head at a corner of the room. “Okay, uncle,” he says reluctantly and stands up. Brandon has no intention of mingling around. He is going out to get some fresh air. He needs it desperately at this point. He is yet to wrap his mind around the fact that his future is hanging right now on one, ridiculous demand: marriage. He is not ready for it, but he must get married, or the board isn’t granting him full control of Sterling Enterprises. “Damn it,” he mutters under his breath, his jaw clenching. He doesn't need such inconveniences in his life. As he is trying to get out of the room, his gaze lands on a young, beautiful lady balancing a tray of wineglasses in her hands. She looks different from the others. It's so obvious she doesn't belong there. Everything about her is screaming that she doesn't want to be there, just like himself. He doesn't know why, but the fire in her eyes draws him in. It sets her apart from the polished, soulless faces around her. Then, in a twinkle of an eye, while he is still studying her, an overdressed socialite turns too quickly, colliding with the waitress. The tray in her hands wobbles and flies out her hands with all the champagne flutes on it. Gasps ripple through the guests nearby. Olivia Carter freezes in shock. “Oh, you clumsy little…!” The guest, some entitled trust fund heiress, shouts down at Olivia. “Do you even know how much this dress cost? You've ruined it now.” Olivia’s breath catches as she watches, in slow-motion horror, the deep red wine splatter across the woman’s pristine white expensive dress. “I…I’m so sorry,” Olivia stammers, apologizing. “You should be,” the woman snaps. “Do you even know how much this dress costs? You've ruined my dress now!” Brandon stands there, watching in disdain as the rich lady continues to berate an obviously traumatized Olivia. “All you poor people never know how to conduct yourselves.” The rich lady continues lashing at her. Something in Olivia snaps at that moment. She hates being called poor. She levels her eyes with the haunting woman and retorts, “maybe if you weren’t flailing around like a drunken peacock, your dress would still be intact.” The room falls silent. Brandon is smirking. ‘Interesting,’ he mutters under his breath. “Are you talking to me like that?” The woman shrieks in anger. Before Olivia could respond, a deep voice cuts through the tension. “That’s enough.” His voice is calm but carrying undeniable authority. The socialite looks into his eyes; recognition dawns on her. She stammers, then huffs and storms off. Olivia exhales sharply in relief. She turns to Brandon, “thank you so much,” she is said, barely meeting his gaze. “That was impressive,” he says, studying her. “Most people wouldn’t dare to speak up for themselves like that here.” “I have nothing to lose, anyway,” Olivia says flatly, then walks away. As Brandon watches her go, an idea forms in his mind. The corners of his mouth twitch slightly with a slow smile. Olivia’s shift finally ends at 2 AM. She groans as she walks towards the changing room. Though exhausted, her mind won't stop thinking about the man who saved her; Brandon Sterling. The way the man looked at her still unsettles her. But the moment she steps outside, she sees him leaning against a sleek black car, her stomach clenches. “You,” she blurts out. “Why are you still here? Everyone is already gone.” “I am not everyone;” Brandon straightens up. “I have a proposition for you, though.” “No, thanks,” her brow furrows. “I don’t need a job, if that’s what you’re offering.” His lips quirks. “Not a job. A contract.” Brandon fiddles with the button of his Italian suit. Olivia folds her arms. “What kind of contract?” “Marriage. One year. You become my wife, and in return, you receive one million dollars. And you won't have to deal with the like of s**t you encountered tonight anymore.” Olivia blinks. “Excuse me?” “You need money. I need a wife.” His tone becomes casual, as if this were a mere business deal. “It’s mutually beneficial.” Her pulse pounds in her veins. Marriage? To a stranger? This must be some kind of joke. She thinks to herself. “That’s insane,” she says, shaking her head. “Why would you even…?” “My company’s board won’t grant me full control until I marry,” he cut her short before she finished her words. “You need financial security. I need a wife on paper. We can help each other.” She let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, right. You say simple…?” “That’s exactly what it’s going to be. Simple.” His voice takes a professional tone. “No emotions. No complications. Just one year, and you walk away with more money than you’d make in a lifetime.” Olivia’s heart tumbles at the thought of what one million dollars can do for her. But the logical part of her screams No! “Why…? Why me?” She asked. He gives her a confident smile, “I like the fire I saw in you. You are not someone anyone can trample on easily.” He says. Olivia wants to walk away. But then, the eviction notice flashes in her mind. The debts. The crushing weight of survival all dances around her mind. Still, everything about this man unnerves her. But then her mind already imagines what his money could do for her. “I can’t,” she whispers. And slings her backpack on her shoulder. Before she moves, Brandon leans closer. His breath warm against her ear, "You don't have a choice, Miss Carter. And neither do I." She swallows hard. His voice tone is a dangerous whisper, warning her of unspoken complications.