The Worst Contract, The Perfect Match

6. My Fiancée

Julian Mackenzie's POV

The giraffe doctor's overly defensive attitude struck me as comical. She was so different from all the women I'd ever met. Not even Lia had that innocent air about her that this woman possessed.

What she was asking was easy for me. I was even more than willing to lend a hand to make her degree and US residency official.

"Of course," I said, taking her hand to seal the deal.

Her smile shifted from sweet to wicked. It was quick, but I noticed.

"Then it's best if the contract is drawn up, and I request that a few conditions be added."

Her trying to negotiate with me was even funnier. I could see she had a strong personality, but even when she was angry, she looked like a little lion cub.

"Fine, you can add your conditions. We'll do that tomorrow in my office. For now, I'll take you to your hotel. You can even stay in this apartment until we get married,” I told her.

She looked around, not entirely convinced. I didn’t quite understand why she was so analytical, even as soon as she walked in, until she spoke:

“No, I won’t be staying here.”

Those were her first words. I didn’t understand why. After all, this apartment was luxurious. Wasn’t she used to luxury?

“Can I know the reason for your refusal?”

“Well, I’m not going to stay in a womanizer’s den. God only knows how many women have set foot in this place.”

I hadn’t expected that reaction, much less the way she said it. It was true that many women had been here, but I didn’t consider myself a womanizer. I had always been upfront about my affairs.

“Don’t you think this way of criticizing me is very aggressive?” I asked.

“It’s not criticism, it’s reality. I have a brother, and I know very well what men like him do in places like this. So I won’t be staying here.”

"It's true, I'm no saint, but I'm not a womanizer either. Fine, if the young lady doesn't want to stay here, we'll find somewhere else to stay."

"Okay, but I think it would be best if you dropped me off at my hotel. I'm tired; it's been a difficult day."

"Alright, Dr. Giraffe… I'll take you to your hotel."

"Zara… my name is Zara, not Dr. Giraffe. Is that clear?"

I smiled at her words. Zara… it was a name that suited her very well.

"Okay, Zara. My name is Julian."

She smiled and said without hesitation:

"A very nice name for a very cold man," she commented as she stood up and walked toward the door to leave.

"A very direct woman," I thought.

I took her to the address she gave me. When I saw the area, I raised my eyebrows.

“Are you really that short of money that you have to stay in a place like this?”

She looked back at me and said, “It’s all I can pay in cash. If I use my cards, my father will be able to track me down.”

She talked so much about her father that I was starting to wonder if he was a possessive, controlling lunatic.

I parked the car and got out to walk her there. As we entered the lobby, she turned back to me:

“You can go now, Julián. I can walk from here on my own.”

“Leave you here? Impossible. From today on, you’re officially my fiancée, and nothing you say will change my mind. You don’t want to stay in my apartment, I accept that, but I’ll put you up in a better hotel.”

I owned stock in a well-known hotel chain. I wasn’t just a successful lawyer; I also had a couple of other businesses.

“It’s not necessary,” she replied.

It wasn’t an option. I didn’t even ask.

“It’s for your safety. For your peace of mind, I'll reserve it in my name, okay?"

I was grateful she didn't make it any harder for me… she finally nodded. I took the key from her hand and practically dragged her to her room. She had a small suitcase.

I took it and we left.

I had a presidential suite—it was one of the perks for members—and I gave it to her.

"You'll be more comfortable here, Zara," I said as I left, once she'd settled in.

"Thank you, Julián," she replied politely.

We were standing face to face. She was an elegant woman, tall, yes, but even in the heels she was wearing, she didn't reach me. I was 6'3" and she was, at most, 5'9". Her head almost touched my chin.

"I'll come for you tomorrow. We'll go for breakfast and I'll take you to my office to finalize our agreement."

"Okay. Get some rest."

“Do you have a number I can call you on?” I asked.

“No, my cell phone is off, and I haven’t gotten a new line yet.”

“Okay. Just don’t move from here. We’ll take care of everything tomorrow.”

She nodded. I turned around and left.

I drove straight home. It was very late when I arrived. My father was still waiting for me in the living room.

“Son, it’s very late.”

“I know, Dad,” I said, loosening my tie and sighing. “I had a strange day today.”

“Strange? Why?”

“Because today, Dad, I found the woman who will be Alina’s mother.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“That I found her, Dad. I found the perfect woman to be Alina’s mother and my wife.”

"Julian, do you really know what you're talking about?"

"Yes, Dad. I'm getting married."

"Julian, marriage isn't a joke. Are you sure? What happened to all those times you told me you didn't believe in love? Son, I don't want you to get hurt like that woman did... Irina."

The mention of Alina's mother filled me with the same fury I'd felt since she told me she was going to have an abortion.

Irina Valkova. The woman I buried in my heart, the one who made me stop believing in love.

I swore I'd never love again. It was pointless. But in my family, love was important, so I wasn't about to tell them that this woman I was marrying was just a well-made arrangement.

"Dad, that's all in the past. Zara is lovely, and Alina feels comfortable with her."

"Alina? Has she met her?" he asked.

“Yes, Dad, and you will too. She’s not from this country; I met her in London. So, in order for her to live here, we’ll have a civil ceremony soon, and the church wedding will be in a year.”

I lied to him. This was the second lie of the day. Not typical of me. I might be a scoundrel, but never a liar. And today I crossed that line.

I lied to Zara when I told her Alina’s mother had died, and now to my father, who had always been my confidant, talking about Zara as if I truly loved her.

“That’s fine, son. From what you’re saying, she’s a very interesting woman.”

More than interesting, I repeated to myself.

She’ll be the key to my daughter’s happiness.

“Yes, Dad. Let’s get some rest.” I escorted him to his room and then sought refuge in my little girl’s.

She slept in absolute peace, oblivious to the wounds I carry in my soul and the trail of ashes I had to leave behind to have her with me today.

Because only the day I held her in my arms for the first time—small, fragile, mine—did I feel my heart begin to beat again after so long dormant.

Now, the path has closed behind me. There is no turning back. I will marry; I will sign a contract, seal a pact, and surrender my freedom for a single purpose: her happiness.