“On paper, yes.” I was not moved in the slightest by the look of disbelief masking his expression, or the suspicion lacing his tone.
If possible, Christian narrowed his eyes even more at me, wanting to see through to me but there is not much to see. Then, he asked, in a low voice. “Why?” He questioned, the wheels in his head no doubt turning. “Why will you ask me to marry you?”
“Don’t you want to?” This time around, it was my turn to arch my brow at him, my tone filled with certainty.
Christian’s lips slowly slanted upwards into a small, ghost smile, one that holds so many things other than amusement. His hazel eyes stared right into mine, unmoving as he answered. “I do.” He did not deny it.
“Exactly.” I sighed, my head tilting to the side slightly. “Honestly, I could not care less why you want to, but,” I released another small breath, nodding my head slowly. “I need to get married, and you are the only one that comes to mind.”
“I am certain you have a list of suitors.” He said instead, “Why don’t you pick any of them?”
“Do you want me to?”
I had normally seen the playful, teasing side of his. But, at that moment, it had all dissipated into smithereens, his expression hardening into something I had never seen before. “No.” The response came almost immediately, his tone firm, and his expression hardening. “I hate to break it to you, but the idea of you marrying someone else does not sit right with me in the slightest.” His tone was light, but there was this underlying promise of mayhem that lines his words when he said that—as if to say he will not stand and watch me wed another man that is not him.
And I hate to admit it, but butterflies filled my stomach at the expression of such, but, I did not let it show. Instead, my own lips slanted into a small smile. “Exactly.” I breathed out. “Truth be told, I do not trust you,” He did not seem surprised by that admission, so, I added. “Or any other man but it has to be you. Besides, like I said, it is a contractual marriage and I have already had my lawyer draw it up,” I gestured to the paper in front of him. “You can go through it and see.”
Christian held my gaze for a few seconds later, before he slowly tore the gaze away and picked up the paper, his eyes skimming through what is written there. He was silent throughout, his eyes never leaving the ink on the paper-and a few seconds passed like that, until his voice came. “Separate finances?” He read out one of the clause there, though never looking up.
I nodded, despite knowing he cannot see me. “Yes. You are rich, so am I. I don’t need your money.” Nor do I want him thinking I do, but I did not add that part. I am still a bit sore on the idea of marriage as a whole, but this is something I need to do.
Only unlike my marriage with James, I want this to be on my own terms, and to avoid a repeat of what happened last time even if it’s contractual and only lasts a year. Majority of my problem with James laid on the foundation of finances. The last thing I want is Christian thinking I need his money as well-not after the whole stocks thing I brought up.
My response though had him looking up, and his expression was dead serious when he asked. “What if I want you to spend my money?”
“I have mine.”
“I want you to have mine as well.”
“I don’t need it.”
“You do not have to.” He bit back, “And I can agree with the clause sure enough, but I am letting you know before hand, contract or not, my money is pretty much yours.” After saying that, all calm and composed as ever, he focused his attention back on the contract, speaking up when another clause caught his attention. “Staying out of each other’s business?”
“Literally, and theoretically.”
His brows furrowed, as he moved on to yet another clause. “Do not have to be together unless necessary?” I nodded, and the action had him looking up, as he dropped the contract on the table, meeting my gaze. “Isabella, I really do not think you understand what a marriage is.” He said, as if I had drawn up the most ridiculous requests for this so called ‘marriage’ of ours. And maybe yes, I did but I did make it clear that I am not looking for a real marriage here.
However, his words had me narrowing my eyes at him. “I am a divorcee.” I stated, a word I had not said in two years because I kept it as a closed chapter in my life. I could not hold it anymore though. “I am pretty sure I know how shitty marriage is.”
“You met the wrong man.”
***
Isabella Montague.
“Did I?” I hummed, “Frankly speaking, I think all men are like that but for the nth time, I am not asking for a real marriage here, it is just a contract I need your help with. Feel free to add your own conditions, and I am open to negotiations as well.”
“The contract lasts for a year.” He stated, reading the last clause there.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.