Sentenced to Marriage by MadlainQ

Breakfast

I blow-dried my hair, put on a shirt top and jeans, and was ready to come down to the kitchen. My heart rate slowed down a little, but the thought of half-naked Aren made that foolish blood pomp in my chest race again. I took many deep breaths as I walked down to the kitchen, trying to mentally prepare myself to see him again, and I sincerely hoped that this time he would be dressed.

I sighed in relief when I saw him wearing a black shirt and a casual pair of jeans, but I quickly realized that it didn’t make him look less disturbing… He was standing by the oven, preparing breakfast. Who would have known that this billionaire could actually use a frying pan and an oven? I walked closer and swallowed hard. He didn’t make it easier for me. In his black shirt with rolled sleeves and forearm muscles tensing as he swirled vegetables in the pan, he looked insanely hot. He must have sensed me gaping at him because he shifted his eyes to me and grinned.

“Hope you’re not allergic to eggs,” he said, turning to the cutting board to chop mushrooms and pepper.

I could only respond by shaking my head. My brain was too busy processing how to handle this new, suit-less, and chef-like version of Aren Lan. I stood like an idiot, admiring Aren’s cooking skills and wondering how come every single thing he did seemed perfect.

“You may either sit down or make us some coffee,” he suggested, pouring stirred eggs onto the pan. I nodded, again choosing not to talk. I walked over to the coffee machine. I took out the coffee beans from the cupboard, grounded them, and started preparing a black, full of caffeine, liquid. “Espresso?” I asked, remembering what he ordered at the café the day we met.

“Yes, please,” he replied, putting the fried veggies on our plates.

The moment I put the second cup of coffee on the kitchen table, Aren brought our breakfast. It looked absolutely delicious. Every detail had been carved into perfection: the dish he cooked, the basket of freshly baked scones, or the small plate with butter.

“Let me.” He took one scone and cut it for me.

“Thank you,” I replied, taking both halves from his hand.

I didn’t expect this kind of treatment from him. I had never pictured him serving anyone or making someone breakfast. Was it some kind of game for him? Was he bored and decided to play house? Or was he enjoying messing up with me? “Delicious coffee,” he commented, taking another sip from his cup.

“I’m glad it suits your taste…” I said, hesitantly.

He was relaxed and smiling, whereas I was completely stiff. I knew that I was supposed to get used to him and learn to cope with him, but this was too new, too different, and too frightening. Honestly, I was terrified, terrified that I could actually enjoy living with him. I

Brandiast

had to stop this idyllic mood before I would find myself lost in it…

you need this marriage for?”

lips no longer curled into a smile. He straightened in his seat, placing his elbows on the table and

there was much more to it.

of the richest men in the world. Why would you need

felt as if the air around us had become

trust me…” I muttered. “No, I don’t.” His reply felt like a stab in the gut. “You wanted me in your bed,

don’t need to

at a different person. He seemed completely different from the man who carried me to his bed to give me a towel, and then made

let out an annoyed sigh. “It’s about business. I trust only a

told Neil to tell me everything… and I wanted to do my best to help achieve… whatever it is

needed to prove that you have a wife?” I squeezed through my teeth. He cocked his head to one side, a look of amusement and surprise on his face. His eyes locked on me again, and this time his gaze seemed more devilish as if he was testing how determined I was. It took all I had within me not to flinch or move back, seeing his predator gaze, but this time, I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. “I’m sorry, but I don’t do well as a men’s accessory,” I hissed. “I’m not some bored lady whose most time-consuming hobby is

my seat with a

his last name? I needed to give him something he wanted… and giving him my body wasn’t an option. I was confident that if he had a lot of enemies, there would be a lot of ways that I could use my skills to help him. I hated the fact that, despite knowing what I was capable of, in his eyes, I was no different than those bimbos who merely wanted to crawl into his bed. My annoyance grew and I needed

you’ll need me hanging around your shoulder for another

Was I being too naïve? As I reached the top of the stairs, I sighed and went to my bedroom to get my laptop and

and frowned. “Neil told you that you would be in danger just by having my name. I don’t want you to risk your life even more by engaging with my enemies directly. “But you could use my help, ain’t I right?” I coaxed, strangely enjoying his sudden perplexity. He locked his eyes on me. “Fine. As you wish…” he said dangerously. “I’m going to involve you in my plans, but I will tell you only the most essential information, and you will do as I say, no questions asked. In return, I will pay for any kind of treatment your grandma would ever need, including

no to his condition? The truth was that I would do anything to get the money for that surgery, and now, Aren had just said that he would pay for it? I wanted to cry tears

whatever you say,”

and down. “Your first assignment

Tirparations

was it supposed to be my assignment? I sat at the workshop, and for the first time, I couldn’t focus on the job. I did some easy tasks automatically, but the parts that needed an individual approach took me longer than

out of my daze. I felt guilty. I had never acted sloppily in my job, and

I mumbled like a

slack.” Alan came to my rescue, handing me a fresh mug of coffee.” Can’t you see she’s thinking about a guy?” “I’m… what?” I laughed hysterically. Alan grinned wickedly, pointing at my flushed cheeks. “See, I was right.

“I… He…”