Crash (A Billionaire Contract Romance)

The Porposal

After signing the contract Mason picks up the ring box, bending down onto one knee, he pulls open the lid to reveal a thin silver band, twisted like a braid, beautiful solid white gold weaving with a line of small diamonds, leading up to a delicate round setting holding a larger diamond in the center. Smaller diamonds circle around, each a tiny petal, as a whole it looks like a beautiful blooming flower. It’s small, delicate, and perfect.

“Aria Crawford, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He asks, his voice travels straight down my spine. Doesn’t help he’s wearing that trademark smug smirk. Half of me wants to laugh in his face and watch as the cocky smirk turns into a frown. The other half of me is the problem I realize I didn’t think enough about before agreeing to this ridiculous deal. I want this moment to be real, maybe I was being generous when I sad half, maybe a sliver, but it’s there, a thorn in my foot, begging me to pay attention and do something about it.

Ignoring the ridiculous, I say “Really,” with a throaty chuckle, “Get up! I already said yes!” His little display is just overkill really.

“Some part of this arrangement has to be done the way it should be. No way am I missing this opportunity.” Wanting to get this over with I give him my hand as he reaches for me, sliding his ring on my left ring finger, his calloused fingers rub the bottom of my palm. Once again, I find myself wondering why a man like him has worker hands. I have a feeling there’s a lot under his fancy suits and Alpha attitude that I wouldn’t expect.

We both take a second to look at his gorgeous ring on my finger, how well it fits, how perfect it feels, how right.

Why? Why have I felt an almost instant attraction to him? What is it about him that pulls me in so thoroughly? Makes me want to forget all my past mistakes, jump into his arms, and live happily ever after like every princess ever written by Disney.

Something I stopped believing in years ago.

He doesn’t let go as he rises to his feet, pulling something out of his pocket, he’s quick to clip it around my wrist. I’m not surprised when I see it’s the charm bracelet. Of course, it is, the man can’t help but win, now he has.

No, I’m not surprised but it does piss me right off. It’s beautiful, thoughtful even, and I want it, but I told him no. I gave it back to him, told him I couldn’t/wouldn’t accept it, and that he needs to accept that.

“Just because we have this little agreement does not mean you can keep buying me gifts, Mason!”

“You’re my fiancé, of course, it does!”

“Let’s get one thing clear Maverick, You will respect my decisions. If I say no I mean no, if I tell you I don’t want something, don’t buy it. If I want to walk away from all of this, because I’m pretty sure I’m insane for agreeing to it in the first place, then you will let me walk away. You might think that life revolves around you, but it doesn’t, my life definitely doesn’t.”

“You’re telling me gifts are a deal-breaker?”

“I’m telling you that If I tell you no, make a point of returning it, and you still force it on me, that’s a deal-breaker,” I say waving the bracelet in his face.

“Come on, let me finish showing you the house.” He just drops the conversation walking out of the room waiting for me to follow “I’m going to put our engagement announcement in the papers tomorrow. Tuesday night is one of the board members' birthdays, we have dinner at his house at 6:30. I’ll have Ray take you to get some outfits for any events we attend together.”

“I’ve dressed myself for twenty-four years I don’t need your help now.”

“You have designer gowns and accessories? No one is going to believe you’re mine if you are wearing anything but.”

“You want me as your fiancé, then you’ll get me. You want someone that has designer dresses then you can go ask Lauren to marry you.” I wore what someone else deemed acceptable for way too long. I will wear what I want, even if it means showing up in a dress no one at the party will know the name of. If that embarrasses him then he can find someone else.

“You’re infuriating! Wear what you want!” He stomps down the hallway, begrudgingly showing me the rest of the house.

It’s insane, he has everything anyone could ever want in their own home, even more so. Walking behind him I feel like I’m touring a resort. He has an in-ground, indoors, heated pool, a massive hot tub, with a built-in shower and bathroom off to the side. On the second floor, he has 7 bedrooms, a theater room, and a massive personal gym. A game room, complete with a pool table, air hockey, ping pong table, and a few arcade games.

His grandparents had it made for him and Jaxon when they were kids, he told me how there were many days no one could find the brothers, only to look in here, usually with one pinned down while the other shows them exactly who’s better than whom.

My favorite room, other than the kitchen, is probably the library. At first, I thought it was another study, an old antique desk positioned similarly to the study downstairs, built-in bookcases line the walls, a charming built-in window seat, perfect for lounging and reading a book next to a beautiful view of his endless property, pillows and a folded blanket decorate the space. I could see myself sitting there reading a book, sipping on a cup of tea, enjoying an apple scone with blackberry compote, or two. I’m going to take advantage of this room for sure.

It’s as if it’s meant to be when Mason shows me the room I’ll be staying in, right next door to the library. My room is massive, with my own personal bathroom, a walk-in closet, big windows, French doors that lead to my own personal balcony, with chairs and a table already set up. A massive, bed in the center of the back wall, so many throw pillows they take up half the mattress. Two matching nightstands on either side, a matching dresser across the room opposite the bed, the TV mounted to the wall above the dresser. There’s even a cute little vanity off to the side. All of it is nicer than any room I’ve ever stayed in.

I’m kinda excited to sleep on that mattress, I bet it’s comfier than a cloud.

When the tour is done Mason has Ray drive me home, so he can stay back and get some work done. With no work to go back to, I decide to go check out the space that will be my very own bakery, just thinking about it has my pulse and mind racing.

With the money I got from grandma I have about $95,000 in the bank. She didn’t have a large life insurance policy, and her house was old, loved but old in a rundown part of Kiesertown, a small section of Buffalo. Year after year it seems to deteriorate a little more than the last. Crime is up and the property value down. Her house sold for $75,000.

Boston’s real estate is insane, the average purchase price per square foot $600, an average in-store bakery, with a welcoming dining area, a full kitchen, and an office, I’m looking at 1,420 Square feet that’s $852,000 just to purchase a building, or rent one for close to $7,000 a month. There was no way I would be able to afford that with the money from Grandma, and a loan with a huge interest rate. I wasn’t willing to take the risk, but now?

Now I have so many possibilities running through my head, including thinking Mason might just be insane to just give away $800,000 and have to stay celibate for a year, all to get his company and a seat on the senate.

That surprised me, him wanting to be a senator. He’ll be just but unforgiving whichever the situation calls for. I just didn’t think his aspirations would need to go beyond almost owning an almost Trillion dollar company.

I hope that he stays true to his word when he wins and makes America a better place to live for everyone, not just the top 1%. I have no doubt that he will win, his personality won’t allow him to lose, and his company and the connections won’t hurt either. The only thing he’ll need help with is gaining his constitutional trust. Nothing a good campaign manager won’t be able to help him with.

When Ray pulls up to the building my breath escapes me, my feet are moving before I can tell them to. It’s perfect. Big glass windows that will let amazing light in, I can set up a couple of couches and some comfy but chic chairs. Customers can sit right in front of the window, the early morning light shining on the book they just pulled out.

I open the doors with the keys Mason gave me, the charms on my bracelet clinking together as my hands shake. I might have talked all that s**t, but I don’t want to give it back up a second time, it really is beautiful. Behind this door is my future, my dreams, my happiness. I only hesitate for a second before I push the glass door open, instantly overwhelmed with all the possibilities.

I can put at least five tables in here, four seats each. Maybe fit a couple of two-seater tables too. I want a comfortable and intimate setting. I want anyone to be able to walk in feeling welcome and inspired.

It used to be some sort of restaurant, there’s a small counter in the back. I’ll have to knock it down, replace it with an L-shaped display case with a tiny section for a register. The bathrooms and an office are down a hallway on the right. A large kitchen, with a walk-in cooler and freezer in the back. The appliances are missing from the kitchen but the hookups are already installed.

I can call around tomorrow to see what deals I can get.

I lift myself onto the counter in the middle of the room, sitting here looking around, taking it in, imaging it on opening day, a line of people out the door, the warm baked sugar, and chocolate permeating the air. Smiles and laughter filled the space, a group of college students sitting next to the window studying for their physics test.

Two girls bouncing up to the counter impatient to have their double chocolate muffins in hand, their mom shuffling her feet behind them already worn out from the day. She’ll order an extra-large coffee, tell herself she doesn’t need that piece of apple crumb pie, but at the last second order it. When she bites into the warm piece of Heaven, she’ll be bouncing alongside her girls.

This will be an escape from the real world, a place filled with happiness and joy. I want kids to grow up with Shirley’s. Bring their own kids here one day. Make it a tradition for families, and salvation for those that need it.

I sit there a long time, not moving much, just taking it all in. At one point I start to cry, not sure that this is real, maybe I’ll wake up and I’ll be back in Buffalo. Maybe Brian hit me hard enough to put me to sleep and this is all a dream.

Certainly I can’t be this lucky.