ENRIQUE
My issues with Mother were finally coming to an end and I was happy about it. I had already begun to plan it all out. Of course I knew that Mother would be suspicious if I just showed up out of nowhere with a supposed girlfriend. So I subtly began to drop tiny hints, swerving the conversation else way whenever she asked who I was texting so intently. I knew that would rouse her curiosity. So far it was going great. Today, I had ordered Catherine to prepare a small travel suitcase for me as I was going to spend the night at my penthouse. Mother knew I only took trips when I had a business meeting, or when I was going on vacation. She only observed me, but I could tell that she was interested. Everything was going as planned.
I hated that I had to put up such a show for something I really didn't have to. But I was tired of the complaints. I had waved off the idea that this whole thing was a bad idea so much that it all sat right with me. I had also decided not to inform my friends either. Everyone had to think it was real.
I checked my phone again, I was supposed to meet with my would-be father-in-law and wife in about an hour. I had a lot to do regarding her. Only God knows how bad she would look judging from her poor background. Everything from her hygiene to her fashion choices needed to be changed before she met my parents. I only always had women of my calibre around me, so I had to work on that to enable it to seem believable. I had already ordered professionals to be ready for me because I would be turning her to a completely different, more acceptable person today.
Checking my phone again, I decided it was time to be on my way. I made to put a call through but I hissed when I remembered the man did not have a phone. At this point it wasn't even surprising. The life of the poor was almost laughable. No wonder he didn't think twice about selling off his daughter. It was astonishing yet entertaining. Deciding it was none of my concern if he decided to sell his soul, I beeped my driver and made my way to my car.
Getting there and seeing that they were not there yet, I started to get pissed. No one ever kept me waiting. I had paid off the restaurant to have it reserved for my meeting today, and he still had the guts to be late. Whipping out my phone, I decided to keep myself busy.
A few minutes later the doors burst open and I saw the man wobble in quickly. The sight of his pot belly hanging out irritated me, making me look away in disgust. He looked the same as the last time, only that the bruises on his face were darker. Tearing my gaze from him, my eyes fell on his daughter.
"Oh my God."
"Is this a joke?"
We both uttered at the same time. I looked from her to the man. "This is your daughter?"
He nodded, his eyes darting between us in confusion. "This is Elizabeth."
I started to wonder what sort of joke this really was. The same woman that had disrespected me on two occasions was going to be my wife?
"Hell no," I boomed, getting up. "Of all the females in the city."
"Right back at you," She shot back. For a few moments we glared at each other fuming.
I finally spoke up. "The last thing I am going to do is get married to an insolent little..."
I paused when I saw relief form on her face although she tried her best to hide it. Thoughts began to run through my head. Of course. Her father had sold her. She was obviously one of those independent feminists that never wanted to get married or be under the control of any man. She hated this, almost as much as I did. This was my chance to punish her, make her suffer. After all, I only needed her for a few months.
Silently, I took my seat. I stretched out my hand to give the man a handshake. "Nice doing business with you," I said, my eyes never leaving her face. I saw her redden. Good.
"Your work here is done," I continued. "You can leave now."
He stood, casting an unsure look to his daughter who sat stiff, avoiding his gaze. He scratched his head, awkwardly muttering his goodbyes and shuffling out of the restaurant.
We faced each other in silence. I took the opportunity to observe her. Fine, she wasn't ugly. Anyone could see that. But for playing my pretend wife? Hell no.
I eyed her greasy looking hair. "We have a lot of work to do on you. No one and absolutely no one has to know you're a pissant."
"I can see that you can't make one sentence without a degrading term," She spat.
I folded my arms. "I'm just being honest. Of course no one would believe you are from a rich family," I laughed. "Middle class is more like it. But that doesn't mean I'll let you show up looking like you're from the gutters."
I saw her ears redden. "This will be so much fun," She muttered, sarcasm dripping from every word. If I wasn't so pissed about having me around me as well I might have found her funny.
"Now, down to business. We have been seeing each other for three months now, in secret of course. Because I don't like the media in my business and you don't like attention. We shall get engaged in three weeks, during the course of which you will get to meet my parents and appear by side in public. Then, we get married."
I saw her stiffen at the word.
"We will be married for a period of five months, have misunderstandings that we have apparently been hiding all through the sixth month, then a nasty, heart wrenching breakup will ensue. Then a divorce."
She looked up in surprise. "That's it? Just for six months?"
I held back a chuckle. Look whose gold digging side had emerged. Of course she couldn't hide it for long. I couldn't blame her though. Women would jump at the opportunity of getting married to a billionaire, a permanent meal ticket. But did she seriously think I would actually want to be permanently married to her? What a joke.
She surprised me by letting out a gasp in relief. "So it's not permanent then? That's great."
I frowned. Why did she seem so happy about it?
She sat up straighter. "Okay then. All that you requested will be done. You still have to give me a backstory of how we met and a few things about you apart from the ones I already know."
"What do you know about me?" I spat, hating that she was liking the fact that it wasn't permanent.
"Well, other than the fact that you're a spoiled, arrogant chainsmoker? Nothing else," She smiled sweetly.
"How dare you!"
"Relax, hubby, we're in public," She continued, the sickening smile never leaving her face.
"Remember that you are my property, whether you choose to accept that or not, and you will do as I say," I spoke under my breath.
She leaned forward. "Yes, from circumstances above my control I am unfortunately going to be your wife and the good Lord knows I'd rather be hit by a truck. But here we are. But I am not your property."
Her words both annoyed and baffled me. But I let it be.
"I can't stand being around you either so it's best we get it over so we can all get back to our lives. You are my employee from this moment."
She eyed me without a word.
"Let's go get you cleaned up, babe," I smiled, getting up and gripping her hand in mine.
I saw her mask the hurt in her eyes, quickly forcing her lips into a smile as we exited the restaurant.
ELIZABETH
At this point I was convinced this was some kind of ploy. My life was literally falling apart, and my worst nightmares all coming to life to haunt me. I can't explain the shock I felt when I saw no other that the arrogant bastard who assumed I was a hooker and made me lose my job. All all the men on earth why him? Life was playing one hell of a big joke on me.
Right now I stood awkwardly and out of place in the biggest hair salon I had ever seen. Enrique stood a few feet away discussing something with a man I assumed to be the owner. After a while he walked back to me, a fake smile plastered on his face, and the hair stylist trailing behind me.
"Babe, John will be assisting you today," Enrique smiled, wrapping his arm firmly around my waist. I felt tingles run down my back from his touch and I struggled to form words. Giving up, I gave a small nod and let the hair stylist lead me to a chair.
He undid the band I used to tie my hair back and let out an appreciative gasp when my thick hair fell free. "Oh my goodness, such beautiful, healthy hair!"
I saw Enrique roll his eyes as he took a seat and whipped out his phone. Asshole.
"Make it clean, sophisticated, you know the drill," Enrique spoke up after a few moments. "And please do something about that color."
My hand instinctively went to my hair. What was wrong with blonde? My curly, blonde hair was one of the things I liked about my appearance. Why did he have a problem with everything?
"But babe, I thought you said you liked my hair," I asked sweetly, even going to the extent of pouting, much to my disgust. He glared at me. I struggled not to falter from his icy blue stare.
Today was the first day I had actually seen him in broad daylight. And apart from the fact that he was an asshole, he had to be the most gorgeous man I had ever laid eyes on. He had his long ebony black hair tied up in a high bun, a few tendrils escaping and falling to frame his face. It was a struggle to keep myself from staring.
"Of course I love your hair, babe. I just want something different."
"I'll do a different style but I'm keeping the color," I said through gritted teeth.
He gave an equally fake smile and faced his phone, and I wanted nothing more than to smack him.
Meanwhile the hair stylist looked from me to Enrique unable to hold back a smile and muttering something about adorable couples.
I resisted the urge to laugh. You have no idea, John. No idea whatsoever.