Chapter 2 The Domineering Benefactor
1117 Words
"Huh?" Valerie blinked. "The outfit cost $39.90 and the shoes were $29—that's definitely under a hundred..."
"Besides," the man continued, his voice icy despite features carved by the gods, "that look on your face just now was pure admiration. What, too proud to admit it?"
Valerie stiffened. Were his eyes forged from truth-seeing crystal? But admitting she'd been ogling him was out of the question. She squared her shoulders, jutting her chin like a sword. "I—I wasn't!"
"Your drool's still on your collar. Sure you weren't?"
"Th-that's from hunger! You're the one who starved me!"
"Hmph—" His lips curled as he watched her puff up like a prickly little hedgehog. "Enough wasting time. We leave in one minute."
"For where?"
"City hall. Or—the courthouse."
"..."
Bloody hell!
Tears pricked Valerie's eyes. This man was a human lie detector—her usual quick wit was useless here. Jail time she could handle, but her mother's care wasn't a bargaining chip.
Mark, ever the consummate assistant, clicked the timer before calmly sliding surveillance photos and legal documents across the table at his boss's nod.
Valerie scanned them. They'd prepared a prosecutor's dream case. One trip, and she'd be convicted.
The timer's sharp beep sliced through the tension.
Adjusting his wheelchair with a frown, the man ordered, "Mark, let's—"
"Wait!" No time for second thoughts. Marriage it was—she could always divorce him later. Steeling herself with a shuddering breath, she forced out the words: "Fine! I'll do it."
The man paused briefly, yet remained silent as he effortlessly maneuvered his high-tech wheelchair toward the exit.
A hint of amusement flickered across Mark's ever-polite face as he bent to untie the ropes. "This way, Madam," he gestured smoothly.
Madam?
Talk about poetic justice. What goes around comes around.
Valerie fumed but bit back her anger—when in Rome, do as the Romans do. She followed Mark to the car where the man already waited, then slammed into the seat beside him with deliberate roughness. His flawless face remained impassive, not even flinching at the impact.
Damn him and his stupidly perfect face. For a hopeless sucker for pretty faces like Valerie, even righteous anger melted under that gaze.
Mark drove with practiced precision, and the civil affairs office came into view after fifteen smooth minutes.
"Out."
Valerie shot the man a glare. "I don't have my household register."
He barely glanced up. "Mark retrieved it for you."
"I—" Her temper flared again. How on earth did they get into my apartment? Then again, if they could kidnap her, a document meant nothing. Defeated, she let herself be practically dragged inside.
Ten minutes later, they emerged holding their new marriage licenses. Valerie blinked in disbelief. Since when do weddings take ten minutes? She'd assumed it would require an entire afternoon. Not that she'd had occasion to find out before.
People called marriage a lifelong commitment. Hers had been decided in less time than a lunch break.
Including the earlier interrogation, the entire ordeal had taken forty minutes flat.
The worst part? She was now legally bound to a man whose name she didn't even know.
Only then did Valerie remember this crucial detail, her heart sinking like she'd swallowed bitter gall. Too annoyed to ask the man directly, she flipped open the marriage certificate to the name section. "Valerie Mount and... Ryan Sidney?"
"Jesus Christ!" The curse burst from her lips as the certificate slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a sharp slap. Her nerves snapped—vision blacking out for a split second before she lunged to snatch it back up and, without hesitation, shoved the stupid certificate toward her mouth.
"What the hell are you doing?" Ryan's brows knotted, his long fingers clamping around her wrist like lightning. Before she could react, the document was wrenched from her grasp.
The air around him turned arctic. "Absurd."
Valerie wanted to cry but had no tears left. "Ryan, you're the second young master of the prestigious Sidney family! Who in Nors City wouldn’t jump when you say jump? Women lining up to marry you could circle the globe three times over. Marrying me... Don’t you think you’re lowering your standards?"
"Not at all." Ryan tossed the certificate onto the passenger seat with icy calm. "Mark, secure this."
Leaning back into the buttery leather, he fixed her with a withering look. "Though I do worry your IQ might drag down our future offspring."
Valerie knew he was mocking her impulsive attempt to eat the stupid certificate, but that was just a momentary lapse! And offspring? Who said anything about offspring with you?!
Flustered, her brain-to-mouth filter completely failed. "Looking like that, you can even think about offspring?"
It was a low blow—enough to make even a saint snap, let alone a wolf like Ryan.
The words tasted like instant regret.
But by then, it was far too late.
The man's face instantly frosted over, his gaze turning dangerously dark as his fingers clenched around her chin with a sharp snap. His voice cut like jagged winter icicles. "Whose fault is this?"
"I—I—mine! My fault!" Valerie trembled violently, the sheer terror of this man turning her bones to jelly. She knew when to fold 'em—survival instinct kicking in hard.
Ryan stared her down for a solid ten seconds before suddenly yanking her forward and claiming her mouth in a punishing kiss.
"Ah—!"
Her scream was muffled into incoherence as she shoved against him, only to discover his grip was iron, his body harder than she'd imagined.
Thankfully, the assault ended quickly. Ryan flung himself back into his seat, all icy control. "I'll have ample time to demonstrate exactly how functional I am."
"Right now, I'm not entertaining games." He flicked a gleaming gold card onto her lap. "Get a wedding dress and rings. Mark collects you tonight."
"......"
Dolce Mall—Nors City's temple of luxury.
Where the elite flexed their wealth without restraint. Their business model? Price tags that hurt, logic optional.
Merely checking in here could count as a family achievement.
After all, entry required a membership card that cost more than some companies made in a year.
Valerie hovered at the entrance, the security guard looking at her like she'd tracked in mud. Seriously? Buying her own wedding gear?
Men. Useless as chocolate teapots.
With a huff, she stomped to the curb and flagged down a taxi.
"Where to, ma'am?"
"Thunder Bar downtown."
Heh! A premium gold card with no spending limit—might as well use it while I have the chance!
- Writer
