Marriage by choice

Chapter 5

Jael's POV

Caroline was thrilled to hear that I’d finally come to an agreement with Mauritius. Of course, I didn’t mention that it was more of a contract than an actual marriage. I didn’t want her feeling sorry for me. Seven years should be enough time for me to pull myself together, and after that, it’ll look like a simple divorce. Nothing that awful…

In typical Mauritius style, he didn’t waste any time planning when we’d meet each other’s families. Just a week had passed, and today I was already meeting the Mauritius family. Why I needed so much “prepping” was beyond me, but he insisted, and I couldn’t stand his cold stare. So, I brushed up on everything I could learn about the mysterious Mauritius.

The honk outside signaled my driver’s arrival. I glanced in the mirror, trying to smooth out invisible wrinkles in the dress Mauritius had sent for me. I’d told him I could dress myself just fine, but naturally, he ignored that. Soon after, a black dress arrived—a vision of luxury, with a matching purse, emerald earrings, and a necklace to bring out the green in my eyes. The only thing it came with? A short note that simply read: Wear it.

Somehow, even that short sentence felt like a command. How could he expect me to wear such a gown? It clung to me like a second skin, hugging my chest with a deep V that meant no bra could be worn underneath. To top it off, it had a thigh-high slit that made me nervous just looking at it. How was I supposed to move without giving everyone an unplanned view?

Mauritius and his incorrigible attitude!

First, he didn’t even consult me before deciding this marriage would be a contract, but I was too desperate to object. Then, he spent all week prepping me on how to meet his family, completely ignoring the fact that he’d have to meet mine. It was clear he had no intention of being considerate or polite. Just commands—no room for my thoughts or opinions.

Caroline came by at 6 pm to help me dress and do my makeup, practically swooning over the dress. I could tell, again, that her taste and mine were in two separate galaxies.

The glaring lights from the limo outside nearly blinded me as I walked out to the car. The luxury of it all was overwhelming; I could hardly believe this was my life. A man with biceps the size of small boulders stepped out to open the door, making me feel small for a moment. Keeping my head held high, I slipped into the car, where Mauritius sat waiting. Dressed in a sharp black tux, his hair arranged to perfection, he was practically a Greek god. And as I took him in, he barely even looked up.

“Don’t waste my time gawking,” he sneered, not bothering to hide his irritation.

Yup. He hates me.

Ordinarily, I would have kept quiet, but he was really getting under my skin tonight. “Do you hate me, Mr. Mauritius?” I asked as calmly as I could, though anger simmered just below the surface.

“Call it whatever you want and adapt,” he replied curtly, as if he were discussing the weather.

Such an uncooked yam.

---

When we arrived, I had to catch my breath at the sight of the mansion. Massive pillars and intricate designs covered every inch; it screamed wealth and power. I wanted to gape, but Mauritius’s earlier remark still stung, so I composed myself as we approached the entryway, flanked by men in black suits. Even at 8 pm, one of them wore dark shades—was it a bodyguard trend?

Mauritius leaned in close as we walked, his breath hot against my ear. I shivered as his cologne filled my senses. “Don’t talk to my dad,” he ordered quietly, voice low and full of warning.

Wait—what? I thought I was here to get his family’s approval! Dads were certainly part of the “family,” and an important part at that.

Ignoring his rudeness, I followed him inside, where lavish chandeliers and priceless art greeted us at every turn. My heart raced as I took it all in, knowing I’d probably never afford a fraction of it, even if I sold an organ.

Then I heard it—a thick Russian-accented voice called out, “Mostriciattolo mio!” Standing before me was a dignified man, his gray hair arranged perfectly, and an air of authority surrounding him. His age didn’t diminish his presence; in fact, he looked like he could outmaneuver men half his age. I assumed this was Mauritius’s father, and for some reason, his cautionary words made me want to defy him.

With a stubborn streak of rebellion, I stepped forward with a smile and stretched my arms out in greeting. “Daddy!” I exclaimed warmly, pulling him into a hug as if we were old friends. I could practically feel Mauritius’s glare burning holes into my back.

Ignoring his reaction, I added enthusiastically, “We finally meet! I’ve heard so much about you—”

“Jael!” Mauritius’s voice snapped, and I smirked inwardly at his annoyance.

“Von, do we have to do this now?” I asked, turning to him with feigned irritation.

The man beside me raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Von?”

“Oh, yes,” I replied with an innocent smile. “Mauritius was too much of a mouthful, so we agreed on ‘Von,’ didn’t we, babe?”

Mauritius’s jaw tightened, his eyes sharp and cold as ice. I could tell I was pushing him, but something inside me enjoyed it. This was his family, after all, and if he thought he could boss me around without consequence, he had another thing coming.

As his glare intensified, he stepped closer. For a moment, his voice softened, and he leaned in just enough that I could hear the danger in his words. “This is your last chance to walk away from this arrangement, Jael,” he whispered, his eyes boring into mine with a promise of consequences if I stayed.

I took a deep breath, meeting his gaze without flinching. “And here I thought you needed this arrangement just as much as I do, Von,” I replied, my voice steady.

Mauritius’s expression remained unreadable, a flicker of something dark passing over his face before he looked away. The tension between us was thick, but I knew one thing for sure—there was no way I’d back down now.