Sentenced to Marriage by MadlainQ

Chapter 1

 

“What the hell is this?” I hissed, looking at the document I was given.

 

A lawyer in a fancy suit corrected his designer-rim glasses. “Your contract,” he said.

 

“Why does it say “marriage” on it?” I glared at him, blood boiling in my veins.

 

“This is what my client needs. He needs to get married.” The lawyer’s expression remained emotionless, making me feel as if I was tossing all my anger into a void.

 

I took a long breath out and glanced at the papers. “I’m not going to sign it,” I said, this time more composedly, as I crossed my arms over my chest.

 

The lawyer turned his head towards something, which I assumed was a one-way mirror. The second he did, the door next to the mirror opened with a slam, and a tall, black-haired man barged inside. It was Aren Lan, the only guy in this city whom no one dared to mess with. I looked at him, meeting his cold as stone gaze. I flinched but was unable to take my eyes off of him. For certain, he was dangerous, but he was also the most handsome man I had ever met in my life.

 

He smirked as he saw me shiver, my body submitting to him against my will. He strode across the office towards my seat. His broad shoulders and muscled chest could barely stay locked under his tailored suit jacket and tight shirt. As he stood in front of me, I could barely resist the urge to lower my gaze to his belt. He could have been deadly intimidating, but my lewd thoughts kept challenging my self-preservation instinct.

 

He leaned over me. His cologne was intoxicating but not as lethal as his onyx irises roaming my face. I gulped, indulging his confidence. His full lips were an inch away from mine, nearly touching them. A part of me instantly began craving their softness. My heart pounded erratically, turning me into a madwoman I had never imagined myself to be. He slightly opened his mouth, and I couldn’t restrain myself from looking at the tip of his tongue, slowly teasing the inner side of his upper lip. Unknowingly, I opened my mouth as well. He chuckled, sending a cold shower over my head.

 

“You can either sign it or go to jail.” He leaned back and smiled mischievously, emphasizing his impeccable jawline.

 

didn’t do anything

 

your nose into

 

can’t prove that I had anything to do with it aside from being at the same hotel,” I said, as a confident smirk

 

escaped his throat. “I don’t have to prove it. All

 

one can sentence me without

 

from his face. “You still don’t get it, do you? I own this city. It means that if I say you go to jail, that means you go to jail.” He leaned over

 

win, and this wasn’t a man I could win against… How did I get myself into all

 

***

 

Three weeks earlier

 

with that espresso!” Christine’s nosy-pitched voice

 

doing my best. Can’t speed up the machine, can I?” I squeezed through

 

at the Café Dorado, where I’d worked, were the worst. On Mondays, people were still acting zombie-like as the weekend effect couldn’t leave their systems entirely. But on Tuesdays, they were all work-mode-on, running on nothing but caffeine. Monique, Marco, and I were probably filling our 999th cup, and it wasn’t even 9 AM. I stretched my lips into a thin smile and placed the final to-go in a paper cup carrier. As I completed the order, I took the carrier back

 

not fuel customers’ irritation?! I seriously wanted to kill her! I knew that she was the owner’s cousin, but there should be a limit to her cockiness, right? She could have helped instead of bitching, but she was too lazy to move her fat butt around while calling herself “the manager.” Monique placed the rest of the coffees from the order right beside those I brought. Then she winked at me to defuse the fury rising

 

to my face and shifted my eyes to an impatient female customer. “Three lattes: one chocolate and two soya-milk, two au

 

a brief smile as she grabbed the paper carrier and then darted out of the café. Well, at least

 

end. If it weren’t for the extremely good money I earned at Café Dorado, I would never have decided to work in a coffee shop in Midtown Manhattan. Working there was exhausting, not to mention that it forced me out of my introvert’s comfort zone and put me in front of people. But as a computer freak without a diploma, I had little possibility of getting a job in my area of expertise that would actually give me a proper income. Funny, isn’t it? A former student who had once received a scholarship at Oxford University’s computer science department became a professional barista-slash-waitress. That’s what happens when you don’t have a wealthy family, but you have an ill Grandma instead. I had no regrets about abandoning my studies. Grandma’s life was more

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