Chapter Twelve
Hazel
Ever since my dinner (date) with Mr Dacosta, Su-mi hasn’t stopped talking about how she suspects he likes me.
‘ How did he know you’d be in the immigration office? How did he know you’d be by the roadside? I won’t be surprised if he has been stalking you from Jamaica, ’ she gushed when I returned two nights ago.
I’ve tried to make her understand that it’s just business, but she isn’t having it.
I’ve never seen anyone as delusional as my best friend.
Whatever happened at the dinner still feels like a dream, but the brown business card with me is proof that it isn’t.
Mr Dacosta is very attractive, like very attractive, but that doesn’t mean I want to get married to him.
It’s not that I don’t want to get married, but not now. Maybe in five to seven years. My current dreams are; be a student under Henri Leclair–figuratively of course, get a certificate, and save up for a restaurant of my own. They all seem very unrealistic, but they’ve never changed.
They’ve been my top plans since I was seventeen.
I’m twenty-three and I’ve only dated one man who turned out to be an asshole. I should still date, meet people and socialize more. I still have time.
But then this marriage can get me everything. Knowing that someone somewhere is on standby and available to fund my restaurant, I can focus on other things like getting my email sent to Henri Leclair at all cost.
Su-mi takes a seat beside me as I stare at the business card. “So when is the wedding?”
My head snaps to her. “Kang Su-mi!”
She shrugs casually. “What?”
“You’re supposed to be my conscience. Let’s not both be unreasonable today please.”
“Well too bad for you, I’m never reasonable on Mondays. And how is wanting to marry a billionaire for six months to fund your lifetime career unreasonable?”
“Su-mi, but…” I trail off, trying to find a reason, something to rescue me from making such a big mistake. “But I can get the money somehow.”
Mr Dacosta shouldn’t have proposed with a restaurant. That wasn’t him playing fair. The fact that I can get it by just being a six month wife is so enticing that the unreasonable part of me is wishing to have a wedding already.
What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll be a wife, follow him to functions, and do other things that billionaires’ wives do.
But the logical part of me is screaming and reminding me of–
Your sister. I’m reminding you of your sister .
My sister will kill me. She’ll fly down to Florida, murder me, and return my dead body to Jamaica to give an explanation. There’s nothing I’d be able to say to defend myself.
‘ Oh I fell in love with him . ’ Death. ‘ I’m doing it for my career . ’ Instant Death. No one is ever going to believe that I fell in love and planned a wedding in a span of two weeks.
Stranger things have happened.
“Yeah sure, you can get the restaurant money somehow , but that’s going to take too long. However, there’s this easy way that’s going to take only six months. Rain Dacosta is a B-I-L-L-I-O-N-A-I-R-E–” I giggle when she spells. “–building you two restaurants won’t leave a dent in his pockets. Let him do it.”
“Gosh, don’t get me excited.” She laughs, figuring out that she’s already getting to me.
But again, is it reasonable?
Mr Dacosta lives in a world of spotlight, a world filled with cameras and people that I should only see in TVs and magazines. He’s a public figure, I’m not. I don’t know why he chose me of all people, but we’re two different people from two different worlds, and merging those two worlds together can either be a success or a disaster.
What if he decides on the day of our wedding that it’s all a mistake, that he should have wedded some popular actress or model instead? Then what? Then my dream is gone. No restaurant, no money.
Su-mi breaks me out of my thoughts with her hands on my shoulder. “Did I overwhelm you? I’m sorry. I’m only thinking about you, that’s all. This can build your career. Everything you’ve ever dreamt of can come true. Why don’t you just talk to him tomorrow and if you still don’t want it, you won’t do it.”
I know she only wants the best for me and I’m so lucky to have her. Everyone needs a Su-mi in their lives and I’m so happy I got mine already.
I still have until tomorrow to reply to Mr Dacosta.
“Okay,” I say softly. She smiles, her eyes still filled with understanding and patience. I sit up and clap my hand softly. “You asked me a question earlier, care to repeat it?” I ask, hoping she understands which question I want her to repeat. I coyly tuck two of my braids behind my ear.
Su-mi chuckles. “I said, when is the wedding?”
I chose right when I picked this girl as my best friend. We share the same mind.
“Let’s ask my future husband tomorrow, shall we?”
I flitter my eyes from the business card in my hand to the building in front of me.
It’s massive, it’s magnificent, it’s … wow.
I look so out of place here with my flora-themed pink dress. No one will even believe I’m here in search of a job, talkless of wanting to see the owner of the company.
I should turn back before they laugh at me in there.
Actually, no. I’m here, I might as well go in.
Rip the bandage out at once.
I walk through the walls, almost not wanting to step on the tiled floor. Each wall clock around the offices must cost more than the total of every salary I’ve ever received in my life.
Another reminder that me being here is a mistake.
What am I doing coming here in the first place? Whatever happened to ‘ everyone is going to talk . ’ I turn my back to leave, but as I take three steps, a voice stops me.
“Hello?”
I freeze.
This is the part where they accuse me of coming here to spy. This is the part where Rain Dacosta won’t come out to tell them that he knows me. This is the part where I finally go to the prison that seems to be looming over my head these days.
I slowly turn to see a tall blonde standing in front of me. She holds a coffee cup that signifies lunch time, especially since people around aren’t really seated in their chairs. She raises her brows at me and I gulp. Her eyes aren’t accusing, judging or downsizing me, they’re wondering who I am or what I’m doing here. However, I cannot stop the beating of my heart.
“Are you lost?”
“N-no, I’m not. I was just leaving.”
“You came here to … ‘just leave’?”
Oh shit, I’m not making sense. “No, I actually came to see Mr Dacosta.”
Her widened eyes trails over my body. Okay, now she’s downsizing me. “You’re here to see who?”
“Mr Dacosta. Rain Dacosta.”
“Um … well, do you have an appointment with him?”
“No but–” I point the card at her. “–he gave me his card.” She checks the card, her eyes widening here and there while I wonder what her problem is. “Is something wrong?”
She shakes her head once. Twice. “No, no, I’m just surprised since you’re like the first woman he’s ever–” she trails off and shakes her head again. “I’m Tia, his assistant. Please come with me, ma’am. I’ll take you over to him.”
I nod and follow her as she walks through the offices. The elevator takes us to the seventh floor and I was stunned. This company is ethereal. I wonder why tourists don’t come here for sightseeing. I sure as hell won’t mind it if I have to abort the mission to tell Tia to take me around the building.
“Please sit here, I’ll check for you.” She walks around her desk and picks up her landline. “Yes, sir. Someone’s here to see you. But sir–” She removes the landline from her ear with a frustrated huff. “He didn’t even let me speak! I don’t get paid enough for this shit,” she yells more to herself than to me.
Her eyes dart to me and she gives a recognizable customer service smile. “I’m so sorry. Please let me try again. What’s your name?”
“Hazel Wilmer.”
“Right.” She calls him again and as soon as he picks, she says my name first instead of hello. “Hazel Wilmer. The lady here to see you is Hazel Wilmer.” She stays quiet for a while before a smile ghosts her lips. “Okay, sir.”
As she drops her landline, her grin widens as though we achieved something great. “It worked.” She laughs. “You may go in.”
I make my way into Rain Dacosta’s office.
One push of his door and his eyes meet mine when he lifts them from his computer. He’s on a white shirt and his suit jacket is hung around the chair he sits on like the owner of everything.
Because he is the owner of everything.
I stand by the door, clutching my bag with both my hands.
The truth is, I’m not supposed to be here. He didn’t specifically say I could come to his office, but I called him thrice in the morning and only came when I got no response.
Is that why he’s looking at me like this? Because I’m not supposed to be here?
“Are you just going to stand by the door?” he speaks and my legs almost give up under me. I’ve forgotten how enchanting I find his voice to be.
I shake my head and gently close the door behind me, making my way forward. He motions his head toward a seat that I take, and I give him a small smile.
“I know I’m not supposed to be here and I’m sorry, but I called you three times to no avail.”
“You called,” he repeats.
“Yes.”
“I don’t pick unknown numbers.”
What the actual– “Then why did you give me your card when you know you won’t pick up the call?”
“Because I wanted you to come. And here you are. You wouldn’t bother coming if your answer was a no. But you’re here. So it’s a yes, right?”
I gawk, my shock rendering me mute. Did this man run a test theory on me? So does me coming here mean that I failed or passed?
Shame holds me by the mouth so instead of saying anything, I just nod.
“Good. I hope it’ll be nice and fast working with you.” I wince. He says it like it’s a business deal. Does he realize that we’ll be getting married and living in the same house?
I’m sure he realizes. You know, since he proposed the deal.
Right .
Also, it is a business deal and I better start accepting that if I want to do this with him.
He drops a stack of papers on the table and folds his arms to his chest. My eyes roam around the office as I try to ignore the muscles outlined around his biceps.
If it’s so bulged despite him wearing a shirt, I don’t want to imagine what he’ll look like without one.
You horny little–
“Those are the paperworks for our contract. It needs to be in writing, so there it is.”
“A contract?”
“The contract you’ll be signing. Give it a look through and let me know if you disagree with anything.”
It’s business.
“Right.” I look through the papers with a pained expression. It’s thick and I have to read everything thoroughly. What if I miss an important line? With my twisted luck, I might miss the line that says ‘ I was kidding, no restaurant for you, haha. ’
“We’ll only sign a marriage certificate?” Irritation coats my voice as I ask. While my life may not be going according to plans, eloping with a man for a first wedding is one I’m not willing to follow through on. It doesn’t matter if it’s business or not.
“You have a problem with that?”
My eyebrows shoot up when I realize he’s not seeing a problem with it. “Yes! I don’t want to be someone’s wife without a wedding.”
A dark snicker falls from his mouth. “So you want a wedding.”
“That I do!”
Silence falls upon us as we both stare at each other, passing clear messages –he wants me to change my mind and I want him to accept. After a few beats, he releases his clenched teeth and lets out a deep sigh.
“Fine. Go on!”
“Fi … fine? Really?” I ask with a shocked expression. I didn’t think it would be that easy to get him to agree, but I’m glad. “Thank you.” He ignores me, and I return my attention to the file in my hand with a puckered forehead.
A gasp escapes my lips after reading the next line. “Two hundred million dollars?”
He leans back into his chair. “Too small?” I pin him with an astonished gape, only to see that he’s completely serious.
“Why would you give me two hundred million after wanting to fund my career? Or are you not?” I trace my fingers down the page quickly and my eyes soon catch it. “You’ll still fund my restaurant,” I whisper more to myself. “Why an extra two hundred million dollars then?”
I should stop. I should stop saying such a big amount of money before my mouth gets used to it. I should stop reading the contract. I should run outside and make sure never to be seen by this man ever again.
“You didn’t finish reading the line,” he notes with a frown.
I run my eyes through the document, reading the line as fast as I can. It says he’ll pay me two hundred million dollars to shut me up after the six month term is over.
“I won’t tell anyone. I really won’t. Trust me, even I wouldn’t want anyone to know I once married you.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“Of course,” I rear. Does he think I’ll brag about once being a wife to a billionaire? Which sane person would even do that?
He narrows his eyes at me then slowly nods. “Okay.”
“Thank you–”
“But the two hundred million isn’t changing.”
I groan. “But Mr Dacosta–”
“Keep reading. That contract isn’t leaving this office until you sign, and I have a meeting soon.” He looks at his wristwatch and I grunt at how stubborn he is.
Without giving him a response–not that he expects one, I keep reading. Each line comes down to the same ‘ keep our marriage a secret and after six months, we do not contact each other again . ’ I open another page to find a list of rules and I breathe a laugh at how ridiculous some of them are.
‘ We do not share the same room . ’ Obviously. ‘ We keep our relationship a secret. ’ For the hundredth time, okay. ‘ You’re not allowed to fall in love with me . ’ The audacity of this man.
I cringe and look up at him. “You had to add this one there, didn’t you?” I point at the number nine.
His lips move and when I think he’s going to smile, he clears his throat and sits up, placing his hands on the table dividing us. “It has to be on paper. Every single thing you do has to be on papers for evidence. I can’t have you refusing a divorce because you fell in love.”
“I’ll never fall in love with you. Stop being narcissistic, it doesn’t look good on you.” Every time I think he might be human, he says things that make me want to separate his head from his neck with my shoe. The saying is right; men really are better with their mouths shut. “And what if you fall in love with me ?”
“Trust me, you never have to worry about that.”
“You never have to worry about that either. Ever, ever.”
“Perfect. Sign the papers.” He pushes a pen over to me and I pick it up with a scowl. I mumble how much of an asshole he is and scribble my signature on all nine pages.
I drop the pen on the papers with a bang and lift my eyes to his, throwing a glare at him when our eyes meet. “There.”
He all but acknowledges me as he looks through the papers to make sure I signed it all.
He even has trust issues. Congratulations Hazel, you’ve snagged a full package asshole .
“Our wedding is in one week.”
“One week? That’s seven days.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he retorts dryly.
“But … but … I need time.”
“Time to?”
Time to do a lot of things. Sure, it’s a fake wedding, but I need to do my hair, arrange my makeup, and plan with my best friend. I need a lot of time.
Your sister.
Oh God. I need time to find time to tell my sister.
“Time to–” I trail off.
“Good. Since we both don’t have anything we need time for, our wedding is in seven days. See you then, wife.”
Sweet tingles rush through my body at the title and I caution myself. It’s a fake marriage, he’s an asshole, he doesn’t care. Those are going to be my affirmations in this marriage.
I stand up, ready to leave and he checks his wristwatch. “Joe will drop you off.” I part my lips to protest, but he raises his index finger up. “My lawyer will be going with you. Your friend has to sign a NDA too. I can’t have her telling on our arrangement. She looks like she struggles to keep her mouth shut.”
I frown and fold my hands to my chest. It’s not my fault I’m always on fight mode for whoever decided to speak shit about the sweetest person I know. “I told you to stop talking about my best friend like that.”
“I heard.”
I shake my head with a sigh. This marriage is never going to work.