CHAPTER 2
1300 Words
CEO Starry Wordsworth leaned back in his high-backed leather chair, his hands gripping the armrests as his father’s words echoed in his mind. His father, Edward Wordsworth, had delivered the news with the calm and poise as he usually did.
“You need to show up this weekend with a fiancée—or, better yet, a wife—or Vincent will take your place as CEO. This company cannot be led by a man who can’t even commit to a partner.”
Edward’s tone was neutral, but the words cut like a blade. Starry had built this company alongside his father, sacrificing weekends, relationships, and even his health to ensure its success. And now, it was all being threatened—not because of his performance, but because of his marital status.
Starry pushed himself out of the chair, his jaw tight.
“This is absurd, Dad. You’re seriously basing my worth as CEO on whether I have a ring on my finger?”
Edward didn’t flinch.
“It’s not just about you. It’s about appearances, trust, and stability. The board sees a man who can’t settle down as a risk. They want reassurance that the company is in stable hands—hands that belong to someone with roots, a family. Your cousin, Vincent, represents that.”
Starry’s fists clenched, and he turned away, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Wordsworth Enterprises headquarters. The city sprawled below him, a reminder of all he had achieved. He didn’t just run this company—he was the lifeblood of it.
“Vincent is a parasite,” Starry muttered, his voice low but sharp.
“He’ll bleed this company dry if he gets control.”
“Then do something about it,” Edward replied simply.
The finality in his father’s tone was infuriating. Starry spun around, ready to argue, but the older man had already left the office, leaving him with nothing but the weight of an impossible ultimatum.
“Marriage?” Oscar Trent’s laughter filled the sleek interior of Starry’s black sports car as they sped through the city. Oscar was his best friend and ally. He'd do anything to support him. But he was laughing at his predicament now.
“I’m sorry, mate, but you? Getting married? That’s a headline I never thought I’d see.”
Starry’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as he navigated the streets with practiced precision.
“It’s not a joke, Oscar. My father’s made it clear—married or out. Vincent’s already measuring the curtains for the CEO’s office.”
Oscar, lounging in the passenger seat, ran a hand through his tousled blond hair.
“And you’re actually considering this? I thought you’d tell him to shove it.”
Starry glanced at him, his blue eyes cold.
“You think I’d let Vincent take everything I’ve worked for? He’s never lifted a finger in his life. If I have to play along with this ridiculous charade, I will.”
Oscar smirked.
“I’ve got to admit, the idea of you in a tux, saying ‘I do,’ is hilarious. Who’s the lucky lady?”
“There isn’t one,” Starry replied flatly. “Not yet.”
Oscar raised an eyebrow.
“You’re seriously telling me you’re going to find someone, propose, and drag her to a family event in less than a week?”
Starry’s jaw tightened.
“I don’t have a choice. And it’s not like I’m looking for love. This is business. I’ll find someone willing to play the part for a price, and when this blows over, we’ll go our separate ways.”
Oscar let out a low whistle.
“You make it sound so romantic.”
“I don’t have time for romance,” Starry snapped. “I’m running a multi-billion-dollar empire, not writing poetry.”
Oscar chuckled, unbothered by his friend’s irritation.
“Alright, Mr. Romantic-At-Heart. Where are we headed?”
Starry’s lips curled into a faint smirk, though his mood remained dark.
“Somewhere I don’t have to think about board meetings or my father’s ultimatums. Somewhere I can drink without anyone recognizing me.”
Oscar frowned.
“You mean the slums? You, Starry Wordsworth, in a place where the most expensive thing on the menu is a pint of beer?”
“Exactly,” Starry said,
“I need a break from crystal glasses and imported scotch. A night surrounded by people who wouldn’t know a CEO from a bartender sounds perfect.”
“You’re insane,” Oscar muttered, though there was amusement in his tone.
The car roared as Starry pressed the accelerator, the engine purring like a beast unleashed. The luxury vehicle was wildly out of place as they pulled into a rundown neighborhood on the edge of the city. The streets were dimly lit, lined with weathered buildings and flickering neon signs advertising cheap drinks and live music.
Starry parked the car and stepped out, his tailored suit and polished shoes a stark contrast to the gritty surroundings. Oscar followed, looking around with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
“You sure this is the place?” Oscar asked, glancing at the battered sign above the nearest bar.
“Absolutely,” Starry replied, his tone laced with arrogance.
“Let’s see how the other half lives.”
Inside, the bar was dimly lit and crowded, the air thick with the smell of spilled beer and cigarette smoke. A jukebox in the corner blared out an old rock song, barely audible over the chatter of the patrons.
Starry strode to the bar, his confidence unaffected by the stares he received. He ordered a whiskey, straight, and leaned against the counter as he surveyed the room.
Oscar joined him, shaking his head.
“You really know how to pick a place. I’m half expecting someone to start a bar fight.”
Starry smirked.
“Relax, Oscar. I can handle myself.”
As the bartender slid the glass of whiskey toward him, Starry took a sip, savoring the burn. For a moment, the weight of the day’s events lifted, replaced by the simple pleasure of the drink.
“You know,” he said, his voice thoughtful, “I’ve spent my entire life proving myself to my father. Building this company from the ground up. And now, he’s threatening to take it all away because I don’t have a wife? It’s pathetic.”
Oscar nodded, his expression more serious now. “It’s unfair, sure. But it’s not the first time he’s thrown you a curveball. You’ll figure it out.”
Starry’s gaze darkened.
“I always do. But this… this feels different. It’s not just about me. It’s about everything I’ve built. If Vincent gets his hands on this company, he’ll destroy it.”
Oscar clapped him on the shoulder.
“Then don’t let him. You’ve got a week. You’ll find someone. Hell, you could probably charm half the women in this city if you tried.”
Starry let out a low chuckle.
“Charm isn’t exactly my strong suit.”
Oscar raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’ve got that brooding, mysterious billionaire thing down to an art.”
Starry smirked, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes.
“Maybe. But charm won’t fix this mess. I need someone who’s willing to play along, no questions asked.”
“Good luck with that,” Oscar said, lifting his drink in a mock toast.
Starry drained his glass, the fire of the whiskey a welcome distraction. He set the empty glass on the counter.
“Let's walk a bit outside and come back in.”
They paid the bill and stepped outside the bar. Starry needed the air and enough space to think in before going back to take a few more shots of alcohol.
- Writer
