Sentenced to Marriage by MadlainQ

Monique and Marco saved my life again, taking care of the cleaning and bringing the order upstairs in a brand-new un-messed-up version. Certainly not that any of them would ever let me forget what had happened. Glancing at the upper floor, I could see that with me gone, Mr. Lan acted composedly-slash-indifferently or even politely! What the hell was his problem anyway?!

I stayed put behind the counter, waiting for all three businessmen to leave. I treated it like my personal bunker, keeping me safe from any nuclear reaction that this black-haired man could induce within me. I could breathe again only when the door closed behind him. I crawled out of my hiding place and started wiping the tables, preparing them for another tourist attack.

Monique walked over to me with a mischievous smirk. “Here,” she said, giving me a hundred-dollar bill.

“What’s this?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“Mr. Lan said that I should give you this. He said that you should buy yourself some good ointment for the hand you burned.”

That son of a… He was bringing out the worst in me! How dare he trade “I’m sorry” for a hundred-dollar bill?! I crushed the bill in my hand and rushed towards the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” Monique grabbed my hand before I reached the door handle.

“I’m going to find him, and shoved that money deep into his freaking mouth so he can choke!” I roared.

“Are you crazy, or do you have a death wish?” Marco cut in, pulling me away from the door. “First of all, don’t treat money this way. What has this poor Benjamin Franklin ever done to you? Second, it’s more than 5% of your rent, and the hell I’m going to let you throw it away; you deserved it, hon! And third of all…” he paused to take a deep breath, looking straight into my eyes, “you don’t want to mess with a guy that owns half of New York.”

“I don’t care who he is! Do you think he should be able to get away with anything just because he has money?!” I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest.

head. “Why do you hate money

hate people who have a lot of it.”

I received when my Grandpa died. He wanted me to get the best education I could get, and I

went to every kind of bank, hoping to get a loan, but I was a student without a job or working experience. My request was rejected every time. After I had exhausted every other option, I ended up asking my boyfriend for financial help. I knew that he was from a wealthy family, and I knew that I could pay him back quickly. I believed that as soon as I’d

I loved. I had never been so humiliated in my whole life. His heartless outburst equaled the end of our three-year relationship. Easy to say that he was my greatest reason for developing rich-man-phobia. Some would say that I was prejudiced, and I knew I was. I wasn’t an idiot. Inside my head, I created an image where every single rich guy was cold, arrogant, and rotten to the bone, but, sadly, after over two years of working next to the richest of Manhattan,

this Lan guy?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at

to get his phone from behind the counter. “This is him.” He pointed at his iPhone’s

it aloud. “Aren Lan,

Lan…” I repeated softly, glancing at his picture in some

confidence that surrounded him was breathtaking. I could easily imagine a long line of beautiful women ready to spread their legs before him. That made me wonder even more why he decided to lay his eyes on a waitress from a coffee shop. Was he bored and looking for some entertainment? I wish I could add slapping his face as a part of the show, but

the end of the day without any other unexpected events. Swaying on my feet, I packed myself into the bus and felt the island, hoping to get myself to bed in

two years, my life consisted of nothing but work. When I wasn’t working at Café Dorado, I fixed computers in a little workshop that two geek friends of mine and I created. I loved working with computers, but I would never be able to pay Grandma’s hospital bills without my coffee shop job. And there

at the back, checking our supplies, but it strangely took her longer than usual. Glancing around the empty café, I went to clean up the table after the tourists that

bell rang, shifting my attention to the door. I froze. Aren Lan closed the door behind him. He stood still for a moment, presenting himself to me in a perfectly tailored gray suit, a black shirt, and a tie. His lips

get you anything, Mr. Lan?” I

a chuckle and loosened up his collar. “You’re all I need.” He turned the lock on the

a shudder. “Please, don’t joke around like that, and open the door. It’s a broad day… and this is a public place…” I mumbled as a peal of hysteric laughter escaped my