BETROTHED TO THE BILLIONAIRE

Valerie’s POV

The plan worked.

I almost burst out laughing when I first saw the look on his face. It was a combination of confusion and anger.

He is obviously an impatient man. I came late on purpose and I am dressed this way on purpose too.

I want to spite him. I am only here for a reason, not because I actually want to go ahead with the so-called silly betrothal and marriage preparations.

No matter how much I think of this, it irks me and I want to do something to defy my parents for taking a major decision like this on my behalf.

I have every right to go against them. I have every right to make decisions for myself. I am not a child.

Finding Brenda in Fred’s apartment last night is the result of my decision to come here. I never intended to.

I was betrayed by my two best friends and I want to take my revenge on them.

Mother was right. Fred isn’t good for me.

At first, I was giving him reasons to justify his actions but now it is clear to the eyes that he wants my friend too. He doesn’t love me. If he loves me, he wouldn’t cheat on me with my best friend.

That is the height of it.

“You know what? I am done here”, the man before me stands up abruptly, dragging the chair back.

“Hey”, I call back to him before he left.

He doesn’t look bad. I didn’t expect to meet a good-looking man like him to be my groom-to-be but that isn’t the problem now.

We need to talk.

I don’t want him to find me attractive which is why I came up with the only thing that came to my head.

Dressing up like a clown.

He must have reserved the whole place for us because we are the only ones here. It isn’t evening yet and the CLOSED sign has been placed outside of the restaurant already.

I guess this is one of the powers of being a billionaire. Mother emphasized that. She said he was a billionaire and famous.

I guess I can take advantage of him and his status too, can’t I?Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

“What do you think you are here for dressed this way?” He thunders at me angrily, his blue eyes glaring at me with ice.

I almost shudder but I keep my cool. If this is the man I have to contend with to get back at Fred and Brenda, then I have to be brave and not let him intimidate me.

“Do you think I have time for jokes and…”

“Why are we here, Mr man?” I cut him short, quickly, my gaze not leaving his. His broad shoulder is raised high up as his frown deepens and he continues to stare at me.

Now I feel stupid for putting on this ridiculous makeup. Maybe I should have dressed appropriately instead of this. Maybe he wouldn’t be this angry.

He seems to be searching for answers to the kind of girl I am by merely looking at me. His stares are piercing and cold.

“Can you please sit?” I ask politely, forcing myself to keep calm and not become angry at him as well.

“Are you truly the woman I was betrothed to?” He asks me, doubts filled in his expression and his two arms going akimbo.

Slowly, I nod my head.

As I nod, the remorse intensifies and I wish I am my real self.

He shakes his head and finally sits down. I am thinking he will do the talking since he is the one responsible for this date. He asked for it but he didn’t say a word.

He is still glaring at me coldly and I tilt my head up proudly.

“Why are we here, Mr man?” I repeat my question again, realizing that I can’t remember the name.

He leans forward and taps his four fingers on the table without a word.

Before I can ask for his name, he speaks up, his deep husky voice resonating in my head. “Why are you dressed this way?”

I almost look down in embarrassment. I didn’t think this through before going ahead with it. Is this what it means to be heartbroken?

Doing rational things.

Acting stupid.

Becoming shameless.

I would never have had the courage to dress this way a week ago. I care about my looks and appearance. I care about what I wear. I care about what people say but here I am sitting right in front of the man whose fate has been tied to mine, dressed like an idiot just because my heart was broken and I want revenge.

“I just feel like it”, I answer him, careful not to show what and how I feel.

Tears are springing to my eyes but I am forcing them back, my eyes down.

“You just feel like ridiculing me?” I hear him ask again. “What if the paparazzis get a picture of us and this goes viral, what do you want them to think? How do you expect me to…”

“Is that what you care about?” I interrupt him again, looking up to meet his gaze.

“Yes”, he answers firmly, almost gritting his teeth. His eyes are still blazing red in anger and his cheekbone is raised as he expressed his annoyance at my choice of appearance. “We all have what we care about. I care about my reputation and what people would say about everything that concerns me which includes you. If you care about what people will say, you won’t be dressed this way just to spite me.”

He knows.

“If this is really going to work, then you have to care about what people would say just like I care and you have to put my reputation first.”

“Is that an order?!” I retort back as sharply as I can.

This should be an agreement between us. Marriage itself is an agreement but ours isn’t the usual type of marriage. We are getting married because our parents want it and because I want to help my father and also to get my revenge back on Fred and Brenda.

He shouldn’t be ordering me around. I can still decide to be the bad child and tell Father that I am not interested and will never be interested.

What made me think that this so-called decent man my Mother was on and on about would actually be decent, human, and down to earth?

This man here is nothing close to humble. He is an arrogant bastard.

“What if it is?” He is daring me to challenge him and I shake my head because he doesn’t know me.

I listen to no one. No one can order me around, not even my parents. If I don’t want to marry him, nobody can force me to.

I am here because I want to. I am thinking of our stupid marriage because I need to.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” I find myself voicing out, my attempt to keep cool gone, my anger rising to the highest point.

He smirks, as though he has succeeded in seeing the true me. My angry side.

“You think I am here because I fancy you?” I point an accusing finger at myself. Before I can continue with my ranting, a waitress appears from nowhere and the scowl directed at the man before me is thrown towards the waitress’s way.

She is smiling.

“Good day, what would you like to order?” She asks.

I wonder if she is oblivious to the tension between us or if she chooses to pay a deaf ear and an eye to it.

Her smile is adding to my rage.

“I want…”

“Nothing,” I say in a raised voice, stopping him from ordering. We are not here on a real date. We are here to talk.

He raises a brow at me and I drop my finger.

“We are here to talk, aren’t we?” I flash him one of my cutest smiles, quickly replacing it with the scowl on my face.

What is the use of letting the waitress know about my anger?

“Yes, we are…”

“We should talk, then.”

As quickly as she came, the waitress leaves but not before flashing him a seductive smile.

Silly!

Without wasting any more of my time, even though I don’t have a job and I don’t intend to get one anytime soon, I lean forward so we can get this done and I can go home.

Writing is the only thing I do. It is not a job but a hobby but ever since that night I caught Fred creating on me, I have been creating more time for writing.

I never had time before now because I was either waiting for Fred to come to take me out or I was in his house, waiting for his arrival from work.

“About our marriage…”

“This is…” we both say at the same time but I am not here to listen to whatever trash he has to say.

He is a man and can decide to get one of his numerous bitches to be married to. He must have a tangible reason for wanting to marry me and that is what I want to use it to my advantage.

“Go on”, he urges me like a gentleman will do but I can’t fall for that. No matter how gentle he is from now on, he will remain an arrogant bastard to me till the very end.

“This thing between us is unusual and it is not the exact type of marriage that I want for myself”, I state with full confidence and he watches me intensely. “Therefore, I am proposing that we sign a contract for our marriage.”

He doesn’t blink for a while. He doesn’t say anything either and I am thinking he doesn’t understand my point until he furrows his brow at me and exclaims. “What?!”

Don’t you understand English? I ask inwardly, wishing so desperately to spill that out.

“Let’s sign a marriage contract. I do not like you and you do not like me. Let’s get married for a few years and according to the contract, we will be divorced. That way, our parents will be satisfied and we will be too, especially me because I don’t have to be stuck with you forever.”

He does not say anything again.

Why is he hesitating? Does he want a forever-deal marriage? Even if he wants, that would never be with me. I am way beyond his league. He might be a billionaire but I am beyond his league.

“Is that a deal?” I ask with impatience.

He continues to study with me for a while. Just when I am thinking he is about to say something because he slightly opens his mouth, all that comes out is laughter.

His deep husky voice produces deep, rich laughter and I watch in awe, wondering if this laughter is directed at my appearance or the idea of a contract marriage