She didn’t know what she’d just agreed to.
But I would show her.
I would show her everything.
Chapter Eleven
Zara
I stared at the contract in my hands, the ink still glistening, sealing my fate. My name. His name. Two signatures that bound me to a stranger for a full year.
I handed the paper back to him, my fingers trembling slightly.
“Now what?”
Lorenzo took the contract, placed it carefully in the desk drawer, and turned back to me with that dark, steady gaze that made my stomach flip.
“The driver will take you back to your friend’s place. Get your things. We’ll arrange the rest in the morning.”
“Morning?”
He nodded, as if this were the most casual thing in the world. “We’ll wed tomorrow. I’ll call the judge. A private ceremony, just us and the necessary witnesses. It’ll be quick.”
My heart jolted.
Tomorrow.
I was going to marry a man I’d met less than twenty-four hours ago, in a penthouse I’d only just seen, under terms I’d negotiated while still smelling like the cheap tequila from the bar.
It was insane.
Iwas insane.
“I—” I swallowed, my throat dry. “I don’t have much. My stuff is just… a suitcase. Nothing fancy.”
“That’s fine. My driver will pick you up at your friend’s house in the morning. Whatever you need, we will take care of later.”
I nodded, my mind spinning. “What time?”
“Nine. That gives you time to pack and say goodbye.”
Nine in the morning. I’d be married by noon. By dinner, I’d be Mrs. Lorenzo fucking something-or-other. I’d signed a contract without reading the fine print, without a lawyer, without a single person who gave a damn about me. It hit me then that this was what rock bottom really looked like: maxed-out credit cards, sketchy agreements, and no one to call.
“What about work?” I asked because, somehow, in the midst of all this, I forgot that I am still a functioning adult with real responsibilities.
Lorenzo’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in the air between us. A quiet assertiveness that made me feel small.
“Don’t worry about that.”
“What do you mean? I have a job. I have bills. I can’t just?—”
“Zara.” He took a step towards me, and I automatically took a step back in response, my spine hitting the edge of his desk. I saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes. “While you’re my wife, your needs will be taken care of; you don’t have to work unless you want to.”
“I do want to.”
“Why? I thought you said you wanted to go to school?”
The question caught me off guard. I opened my mouth, closed it, and tried to find words.
