Chapter 7

• It took all of my willpower just to grab the pen and lift it towards the paper presented to me.
• A contract. A deal.
• Laid in front of me like a death sentence.
• Pages after pages of what was expected of me, but one thing took my attention the most.
• Absolute confidentiality.
• I was not allowed to tell this deal with anyone and I had to fulfill the role of a wife for this man.
• A wife.
• I have played the role of an assistant for Liam but never a wife, so I don’t know exactly what the role needed me to do.
• I was hesitating because of that.
• The pen felt clammy against my sweating hands, and my chest tightened as I began re-reading everything in the contract at the same time feeling the heaviness of his gaze.
• Across from me, Arlo remained seated in his leather chair, reclined. But after noticing that I was hesitating, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the obsidian desk.
• “Are you having second thoughts?” He smirked, tilting his head to the side. “This is a win win situation, darling. You have nothing to fear...”
• For some reason, it irritated me that his velvety voice kept ringing in my head and sliding through every crack of my desperation. But more than that, I hated the fact that I knew he was right.
• I need him.
• And he needs me.
• After hearing his reasons for choosing me as his bride, I finally fully agreed to his deal.
• With a shaky breath, I pressed the tip of the pen against the paper and signed my name, my hand trembling with each stroke since it felt like a part of me was being taken away.
• “There,” I dropped the pen as if it was on fire. “With this, we’re married now,”
• “Not quite,” I heard him say.
• I flicked my gaze back up at him to see that he was lighting another cigar as smoke curled around his face.
• “What do you mean? I just signed the contract!”
• “Patience, darling. I didn’t know you wanted to marry me that badly,” He puffed the smoke in my direction when he said those words, and before I could reply, I was intoxicated with the strong smell.
• It was thick and drying, slithering into my lungs that made my nose scrunch before I could stop it.
• The smell instantly reminded me of the days when I had to wait out in the sun while bodyguards smoked nearby. Waiting for Liam to finish rehearsing his lines in his air-conditioned van with his leading lady.
• Rehearsing. My. Ass.
• They were probably doing it while I stood outside naively.
• I coughed once and stopped myself from doing another. I didn’t want Arlo to see me look weak just because of a mere cigar smoke, but when I looked back at him, he had already dunked his freshly lit, expensive-looking cigar in a glass next to him.
• The sound of flames hissing at it sinks further into another expensive-looking drink.
• I blinked. Confused.
• How could he throw away a cigar like that? And ruining the whiskey that costs way more than what I could make in a month.
• He leaned back casually as if nothing had happened, his expression was unreadable, it gave nothing away.
• But I kept my guard up, is this another one of his power plays? A tactic? A strategy? Another one of his strange behaviors?
• But then again, men like Arlo Frantz who lived in luxury behave in a way that does not follow logic. The mind of a rich person, I will never be able to understand.
• “We are not married yet,” he began, speaking smoothly. Sliding the contract in his direction and putting it inside his drawer as if tucking me neatly into his collection. “In three days...”
• My eyes shot back up at him, “In three days, what?”
• He smiled, amused at my reaction. “A grand wedding,”
• “A grand wedding?!” I repeated, dumbfounded.
• “Surely you don’t expect me to have a plain ceremony? I’m Arlo Frantz...”
• I still don’t know why he kept repeating his name as if he was someone famous, and yes, I did dream of having a wedding ceremony, but the timing seemed to be off.
• I could barely process everything when my divorce was only two weeks ago.
• My stomach twisted at the thought of having to see my name everywhere again. On the news, every magazine, paparazzi blogs, televisions and radio. They were not even done chewing my name yet, but here I am about to tie a knot with this man who seemed to be a CEO of some kind.
• I could already hear their furious sharpening of their knives and see the headlines they would write about me:
• ‘Liam Tate’s ex-wife rushes into another marriage.’
• ‘Gold-digger moves from Hollywood star to a random billionaire.’
• ‘She can’t survive without a man—pathetic.’
• My chest heaved, my vision tunneled, and I could feel my nails digging deeper into my palm with each passing second.
• I glanced back at Arlo to see him calm, not even bothered by the inevitable result of this rash decision, and the sight of him made me even furious.
• Of course, he won’t get hated. But me? I will be the one they would shred apart. Again.
• Women are always the one on trial. It was the women who were always burned at the stake.
• That is how it’s always been.
• “Isn’t it too soon?” I said, trying to fish out an expression from him, but he would only switch between smiling, serious, or calm.
• I somehow felt he knew what I was thinking about with the way he kept staring at me. “Let them talk,” he said, eyes glinting with something I couldn’t describe, but it felt like he knew what he was doing, as if he was already ten steps ahead.
• “I will handle the rest,” he added, flashing a knowing smile at me that sent a shiver down my spine.
• I gulped and looked away, recollecting my thoughts together.
• I don’t know this man, I don’t know anyone with the name Arlo Frantz.
• I was abused and discarded by everyone, pathetic, I know. Yet his words offered comfort to my heart, easing the tension in my chest after weeks of running away from hateful people.
• I never expected that a dangerous man like him who speaks the language of violence, would be the one to offer me the safety I so desperately craved... and I’m marrying him in three days.