5
721 Words
Dante’s POV
A contract marriage? It sounds absurd. No, scratch that—absolutely ridiculous.
I burst out laughing, a deep, mocking laugh that echoes through the quiet café. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even blink. Her calmness is infuriating, and the determined gleam in her eyes is even worse. She looks at me like she’s already won.
“Are you done laughing?” she asks, leaning forward. Her makeup—thick and garish—assaults my vision.
I glare at her, wishing I hadn’t suggested this meeting in the first place. Now I’m stuck here, staring at the woman I’m supposed to marry. Or, as she’s suggesting, fake-marry.
She doesn’t give me time to answer. “The last time I checked, I was forced to break up with my boyfriend because some genius decided I should marry you. And the last time I checked, you can’t stand me, and I can’t stand you. So tell me, Dante, what’s stopping you from agreeing to this? You want us to be stuck together forever?”
Forever. That word hits me like a punch to the gut. Forever with her? No, thank you.
She smirks, tilting her head. “What’s the matter? Falling in love with me already?”
I scoff. “Not in this lifetime.”
“Then stop being so dramatic. Sign the damn contract, and we’ll both be free after a few years.”
I lean back, crossing my arms. “Why a contract? We’re adults. We can get divorced when this charade is over without paperwork dictating it.”
Her smirk widens. “Adults? Dante, please. If we were adults, we wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. Our parents are puppeteers, and we’re their little marionettes. A contract guarantees we cut the strings when the time comes.”
She makes a solid point. Not that I’ll admit it to her.
I sigh heavily. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
She doesn’t deny it. Instead, she leans back in her chair, crossing her legs elegantly. “The sooner you agree, the sooner we can move on. Unless…” She pauses, pretending to gasp. “You want to marry me for real? Fall madly in love and live happily ever after?”
I slam my fist on the table, startling the waiter across the room. “Shut the hell up.”
“Shut the hell up, yourself,” she snaps, her voice rising. Her eyes blaze, and for the first time, I see her passion—misguided, sure, but intense. “Do I look like someone who bows down to entitled rich boys like you? I’m offering you a solution, Dante. Take it or leave it.”
Her words hit a nerve. She’s right. I do need this. My family’s partnership with hers is riding on this marriage. The thought makes me furious, but there’s no denying it.
“And you?” I shoot back. “If you’re so above all this, why are you going along with it? What do you stand to gain?”
She freezes, just for a second, before rolling her eyes. “I don’t trust you enough to tell you that.”
That’s when it clicks. She’s hiding something. Something big.
“Let me guess,” I press. “Your boyfriend cheated on you?”
Her laughter is sharp, bitter. “Him? No. But he might as well have. He’s with my best friend now.”
Ah. There it is. Revenge. That’s what’s driving her.
“I want to make them pay,” she says simply, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world.
“And you need me for that?”
“Let’s just say, I’m killing two birds with one stone.”
She’s blunt, I’ll give her that. It’s almost refreshing—if it weren’t so infuriating.
I stare at her, weighing my options. A contract marriage could work, but only if I’m in control.
“You want a contract?” I say finally. “Fine. But I make the rules.”
Her face lights up with a victorious smile. She stretches out her hand like we’re sealing a business deal.
I stand abruptly, ignoring her outstretched hand. “I’ll have my lawyer draft it.”
As I walk out, I hear her laugh softly behind me.
I already regret this.
- Writer
