Sentenced to Marriage by MadlainQ

Chapter 37

Weekend off 

I wasn‘t entirely sure how I ended up in Aren‘s black Porsche, heading to the private airport. I must have been slightly bewildered after picturing the two of us together, alone in his villa. I felt as if he wasn‘t planning to have any serious conversation with me at all, but was seducing me instead. But the worst part was that each time his seduction came to my mind, my body desperately shouted, “Let‘s let him!” 

I must have been truly desperate since I kept biting my lip while observing his hands on the wheel, gracefully and confidently maneuvering the car. Why did he have to be so sexy while driving?! 

“Do I turn you on?” he asked suddenly, making me blush. Hysteric laughter left my throat. “W–what?” 

He smirked. “You squeeze those thighs a bit too much. I can help you relax if you want me to... 

My face became blazing red in a second. “No, thank you,” I grunted, turning my head to stare the rest of the way through the side window. We weren‘t even in the air, and I had already managed to embarrass myself in front of him. Every part of Aren‘s idea for that weekend was making me unimaginably nervous. It all started when he told me that we were going straight to the airport, and when I told him that I needed to pack some clothes, I heard that it had all been taken care of. I hated losing control of the details, especially since I was going for a weekend to a place where the wealthiest 1% of the population liked to rest... 

When we got to the airport, Aren led me to a helicopter–slash–flying–hotel–suite with cream leather bench–style seats, folding coffee tables, retractable TV screens, and, of course, a minibar. Aren seated me next to himself, then pulled out a bottle of champagne and two glasses. 

“It looks like you‘re enjoying this weekend a bit too much,” I commented, more and more convinced that it had nothing to do with him needing privacy to reveal his super–plan. 

He chuckled as he popped the champagne‘s cork. “It‘s my first day off this year. I think that champagne fits the occasion.” 

“Oh...” I lowered my gaze, embarrassed by my egocentric thoughts. Suddenly, I felt sorry for him. He had everything money could buy and absolutely zero time to enjoy it. “When was the last time you‘ve been in your Hamptons villa?” I glanced at him curiously. He smiled wryly. “Never.” 

I stared at him in disbelief.

auction since it looked like a good investment. I hired

Weekend oft 

two days off and spend it with me, but you chose to go to your villa that

“I‘m taking a weekend off because I needed a break, and I‘ve seen the villa in pictures and during a video call when I had to accept the interior concept.” “Even so, you needed to rest, and you decided to take your fake fiancée with you?” I argued.

my eyebrows at him and snorted. “For your information, I don‘t have a bikini.”

do now. I told you that everything had been taken

It was time to admit my endless naivety. Aren was clearly planning to enjoy every second of that weekend away from New York City, and something was telling me that I was about to become his main

froze at the sudden realization. “Weren‘t we supposed to visit your family‘s mansion this

dearest fiancée got sick after the party, and I‘d be taking care of her all weekend.”

painting my face. “So you just rejected

“Now my grandfather is going to try even harder to get us there. I‘m expecting him

house where I could see Callan again. “I‘m sorry.” Aren‘s voice startled

Truthfully, after hearing about your relationship from Miranda... I‘m not certain I could face that fucker either. “He shifted his gaze to the window, but I could see the fury boiling within him even without looking into his eyes. “It‘ll take a lot not

was angry for me... Finally, we flew off and landed at the Hamptons airport less than an hour later. Once we‘d arrived, Marcus was already there to take us to Southampton‘s “Billionaire Lane,” where Aren‘s

had in the trunk inside the mansion,

Weekend olla 

luxurious porch and stared at the opened door, hesitating whether or not to go inside. “After you,” Aren urged me with

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