Marriage by choice

Chapter 4

Jael’s POV

I adjusted the sleek, double-breasted black suit dress that hugged my figure, the hem just brushing my knees. My hair was pulled back into a tight, no-nonsense ponytail that left not a strand out of place, the perfect complement to the polished, professional look I was aiming for. With no contact lenses today, the only touch of color to my otherwise monochrome appearance was my emerald eyes, a vivid contrast to the black of my suit, purse, and polished heels.

It was exactly 1:50 p.m. as I stood at the grand entrance of Hotel de Luna, one of the city’s top five-star hotels. It looked even more imposing than I’d imagined. Yesterday, Caroline had called me out of the blue, saying she’d “found someone.” Her advice to dress business-like was echoing in my mind, and I felt a surge of gratitude that I’d followed it. Everyone around me was dressed in impeccable suits or sleek office attire, giving the lobby an air more akin to a corporate boardroom than a hotel. I glanced down, reassuring myself one last time before heading to the front desk.

“Hello, I have a 2:00 p.m. reservation with a gentleman named…” I hesitated, reaching into my purse to find the name Caroline had scribbled on a piece of paper. The seconds stretched as I rummaged through, feeling my cheeks warm slightly with embarrassment. It wasn’t exactly the composed entrance I’d wanted to make.

“You must be Miss Jael Davis.” A voice—deep, confident, with a thick Russian accent—broke my frantic search, making me look up.

“Yes, that’s me.” I tried to sound calm, extending my hand.

“I am Miles Hudson, Master Mauritius Von Alexandra’s assistant,” he introduced himself, shaking my hand with a practiced but restrained grip. His eyes quickly assessed me, like he was noting down my every feature, from the ponytail to my shoes.

“Nice to meet you,” I replied with a polite smile.

He gave a short nod. “Miss Rose, I’ll take it from here,” he said to the receptionist, before turning back to me. “If you’ll follow me, Miss Davis.”

I matched his brisk pace, and we entered a gilded elevator that rose silently to the top floor, the penthouse suite. When the doors slid open, I was met with a breathtaking sight. The suite’s luxurious interior was drenched in rich, warm lighting that made every piece of furniture gleam. The entire space radiated wealth in a way that bordered on intimidating.

The assistant, Miles, stopped at a massive black door with intricate red engravings. “Master Mauritius, Miss Jael Davis is here,” he announced, his voice loud and formal. The silence that followed felt strange, but after a beat, Miles turned to me and nodded, signaling that I should go in.

“Is it just me, or was there absolutely no response? Why am I being told to enter?” I questioned, hesitating as I looked between Miles and the door.

“Master Mauritius is expecting you, Miss Davis,” he assured, a subtle impatience in his eyes.

“Oh, um—okay.” I stuttered, feeling slightly off-balance as I pushed the heavy black door open and stepped in.

Inside, I was taken aback to find not an office, but an elegant, sprawling library. Towering shelves filled with books stretched up to the ceiling. It looked like the kind of place one could spend hours getting lost in, both literally and figuratively. There was even a cozy seating area with deep armchairs arranged around a coffee table, perfect for reading or private discussions. I ran my fingers along the spines of the nearest books, noting with a touch of surprise that there wasn’t a single speck of dust.

“It seems you’re not as desperate to close this deal as I was led to believe.” The voice—a smooth, masculine tone with an edge of annoyance—echoed through the quiet room, causing me to whirl around.

And there he was, Mauritius Von Alexandra, seated with an effortless grace that seemed more fitting for royalty than a business meeting. I could only blink. Caroline had mentioned he was attractive, but she hadn’t prepared me for this. He looked like a figure out of a Renaissance painting, almost too perfect to be real. But any warmth his appearance might have suggested was shattered by his eyes—cold, unreadable, and piercing.

“Do I look like someone with all the time in the world?” His tone was harsh, unimpressed, as though I was an interruption to his day.

“Um…hello, I’m Ja—” I began, attempting to mask my earlier shock with some semblance of professionalism.

“Skip the introductions.” His voice sliced through the air, silencing me immediately.

Rude! I thought, already feeling my patience thinning.

“Well, I came here—”

“I don’t care if you’d prefer to keep standing, but be quick with whatever you have to say,” he interrupted again.

I clenched my teeth, swallowing down my irritation. Is this the man I’m supposed to spend the next several years with? This rude, arrogant piece of paprika? I thought, doing my best to keep my composure.

Looking around, I noticed a small sitting area to the right with a central table between two sofas. I moved towards it and took a seat opposite him, straightening my back as I tried to maintain my professionalism.

“I believe we both need this arrangement, Mr. Mauritus,” I said, deliberately mispronouncing his name, watching with satisfaction as his jaw clenched at the subtle insult.

Although his expression remained controlled, I could see his muscles tense. “Shall we get to the rules?” he said icily, placing a set of documents on the table with a dismissive flick of his hand. “I’ve outlined the requirements. Go through them and add any of your own.”

I took the documents and began reading aloud, my voice echoing slightly in the quiet room.

“Party A (Mr. Alexandra) and Party B (Miss Davis) are to be married for a span of seven years before either party may request a divorce—”

“Seven years?” I paused, looking up at him. “Why so long?”

“Seven years is what I require,” he replied nonchalantly, as though this were the most reasonable timeframe in the world. I noted the coldness in his tone and decided to keep reading.

“Both Party A and Party B are not allowed to engage in any other relationship during this period. Both parties will also not interfere in each other’s personal lives.” I finished reading and looked up at him in surprise. “Is that all?”

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Were you expecting more?”

I bit back a sigh. “I’m fine with those terms, as long as you agree to accept my unborn child as yours.”

He barely blinked, his gaze fixed on mine with unsettling intensity. “I would advise against calling it ‘your child’ in the future,” he replied coolly, a subtle but unmistakable threat in his voice.

I looked down, feeling a chill settle over me. Is this really the person I’m agreeing to tie my life to for the next seven years?

Gathering my courage, I added my next point. “I’d also like to visit my family regularly.”

“Once a year,” he replied without missing a beat, “and you’ll go alone.”

“That’s—” I began to protest, but he cut me off.

“And just to be clear, don’t expect any affection from me,” he stated, his tone so flat and unfeeling that it sent a shiver down my spine.

“But we should at least try to put on a front,” I said, stunned by his bluntness.

“Do I look like I have time for such childish things?” His gaze was unyielding, cold.

I held his stare for a moment longer, then lowered my eyes, considering his words. If I say yes to this, there’s no turning back.

“Do I look like I have time to waste on silly things?” he said, his words slicing through the air and sending a shiver down my spine.

I swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle like a rock in my stomach. “So…be sure before making your choice.”

Mauritius’s steely gaze locked onto mine, an intensity so fierce I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence between us stretched until it felt like the room itself held its breath.

Then, as if a shadow crossed his face, he leaned back and folded his arms, studying me with a curious detachment. “This is your last chance to leave. If you have any doubts, any second thoughts—” he paused, his gaze sharpening, “you should go now. Once you sign this, there’s no undoing it. You won’t get another opportunity to change your mind.”

His tone was still cool, but there was a hint of something else—something almost like a warning. His eyes held a flicker of something unreadable, almost as if he wanted to test me, to see if I would back down.

A part of me wavered, feeling the weight of everything at stake. I knew he was serious; this wasn’t an invitation to negotiate or hesitate. It was a test of my resolve.

I knew this would be the most foolish thing I'd ever done, but it was the only way out of this tight corner I’d placed myself in. I could choose to let everyone know the truth, but that would only stain the white name my father and mother had built for our family, and I couldn’t bear to bring shame and disgrace upon them.

And oh, the pain and sadness that would show on my mom's face would haunt me for life. Knowing her, she’d blame herself, thinking she hadn’t watched over me well enough, hadn’t given me the guidance I needed, hadn’t been there in ways I needed. She’d find fault in herself.

As for my father, he’d carry a downcast, shameful look. He wouldn’t say a word—he’d only be silent. But his silence alone would drive me mad, would haunt me to the point of breaking.

I couldn’t be the one to bring melancholy, disgrace, shame, and guilt to my family. They had done so much for me, and this was no way to repay them. I couldn’t live, knowing what I’d done.

So, without a second thought, I held my head high and looked directly into his cold eyes. They held no love or kindness, only promises of a long, dutiful but unloving, uncaring, and fearful marriage—devoid of any warmth or emotion.

“Yes—" I said, taking a steady breath. In this moment, I was thankful for my height; at least he couldn’t see the weak facade I was barely holding up. And, making things worse, he just had to look at me with that hard stare that made me want to turn and run, to say I couldn't do this.

“I… have made my choice.”

With a deep breath, I lifted my chin, steadying myself. “I’ve made my decision, Mr. Alexandra,” I replied, my voice firm despite the storm of emotions swirling inside me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His expression remained unreadable, but for just a second, I thought I saw the faintest glimmer of surprise in his eyes. Without another word, he nodded, took the documents from the table, and handed me the pen.

As I signed my name, the room seemed to grow colder, but I didn’t flinch.