Chapter 4

Sarina's POV:

"What does this mean? Why do we need to get married?" I asked, confused.

Yes, I had wondered if I could sleep with someone who wasn't my partner, but it had never crossed my mind that he would attach the word "marriage" to our agreement.

"You've already seen and read it, so why are you asking?" Maximus replied.

"I still don't understand. We're talking about marriage here, Mr. Salonga—a lifelong commitment. Our agreement was just for a year of sex," I explained.

"This is for your benefit too. Don't you want us to avoid being immoral?" he asked as if he had truly thought it through.

"I get that, but I'm not ready to get married!" I exclaimed.

"Well, you'd better start preparing. If you're ready to commit to a year of sex, then be ready to become Mrs. Salonga."

"You think it's that easy?" I asked him back.

"I know it's not. Can you imagine me getting married? Being tied to you?" he said mockingly.

"Exactly!" I exclaimed, exasperated.

Maybe he's gone crazy, and I needed to bring him back to reality.

"What if you get pregnant?" Maximus asked.

"I'm a nurse, I know how to avoid pregnancy," I replied.

"But what if you do?" he pressed.

"That's my problem," I answered.

"What about my child?" Maximus inquired.

"It would still be my child," I replied.

"You want to make my child a bastard?" he asked, sounding angry.

"You've slept around with different women before, and you never thought about that. Why is it suddenly on your mind now?" I shot back.

"I don't sleep with the same woman twice. And every time, I made sure they didn't get pregnant," Maximus claimed.

"Oh, so you're the man. But what does marriage have to do with any of this?"

"Imagine, I'll be sleeping with you for a year. Every day, I'll be cumming inside you. Do you really think we won't have a baby?" he asked.

As serious as our conversation was, I couldn't help but feel aroused. Maybe it's true—dirty talk could really be a turn-on.

"Every day for a year? What about when I'm on my period?" I asked.

"You think that'll stop me?" he boasted.

"Wow, you're intense! So, even when my pussy is full of blood, you won't stop?"

"I need to know if your pussy is really worth 200,000 dollars. Be grateful I didn't ask for a free sample. Just make sure your juices are sweet when I eat you," Maximus warned.

"Gross! It's not supposed to be sweet."

"Well, that's your problem to solve," he said casually.

I shook my head and didn't argue further. Maybe this was better than being immoral. I'd deal with our separation when the time came.

"Sign the contract, and the marriage application too, because Aries will come back to process it. We'll plan the big wedding once you're pregnant," Maximus instructed.

My eyes widened at his words. I hadn't expected a grand celebration when I agreed to this marriage, knowing it was just a means to an end—sex.

Still, as I signed the papers, I couldn't stop thinking about the word "marriage." It should be for people in love, so why was I doing this with someone I wasn't even into?

It wasn't about being overly selective—my employer was rich, good-looking, had a great body, and, well, he was well-endowed. But a playboy? That was a hard no for me.

Then again, I was already holding his dick, so I might as well see this through.

"What's this about ‘love'?" I asked as I scanned the contract.

"You need to call me ‘love', especially when we're having sex," Maximus explained.

"And why, exactly?" I pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"It turns me on. Imagine me pounding into you, and instead of moaning ‘Mr. Salonga', you're saying ‘Love'," he elaborated with a grin.

"I'm not going to moan!" I snapped defensively.

"Keep reading so you'll know what you're getting into," he replied, his tone casual.

"Wait, I'm required to moan?!"

Maximus smirked. "Of course. I want to hear you enjoying it."

"And what if I don't actually enjoy it?" I shot back.

He paused, then replied confidently, "I'm sure you will. Every woman I've been with asks for a second round. But I never give it because I don't want to. If you're really frigid, though, you'll just have to fake it."

"Frigid? Maybe I just don't like you," I quipped.

"Me? You don't like me? Why? Is it because I'm blind and can't walk?" he asked, sounding upset.

"What does being blind and unable to walk have to do with anything? If it weren't for your condition, I wouldn't even have a job," I shot back, unfazed.

"That's it?"

"Is there supposed to be something more?"

"I'm Maximus Salonga, the most sought-after bachelor in the country," he said, clearly bragging.

"And a playboy. Don't forget that. That's why I don't understand why we need to get married when you're probably the first one who will break our marriage," I replied.

"Don't be so sure, Sarina. You don't know—I might be loyal," he said, but I ignored him and kept reading the contract.

Everything seemed fine except for the part about calling him ‘love' and the moaning. It was ridiculous. I knew those things should come naturally, but he wanted to force them.

I just shook my head and accepted it, knowing I was the one who needed the money, no matter how unreasonable the terms seemed. Thus, I signed it.

-

Two hours later, Aries returned to collect the documents.

"I'm leaving now, Mrs. and Mr. Salonga," he said.

I felt a sudden wave of embarrassment. He called me ‘Mrs. Salonga', even though he knew this was just a contract.

"Why do we have to move into your condo?" I asked curiously when we were alone again.

"I want to make an appointment for a check-up," he replied.

I raised an eyebrow at him. As far as I knew, he had always refused medical attention.

His grandmother had tried countless times to convince him to have surgery, but he never agreed. Even though she was abroad, she called frequently, and their conversations were often on speaker, so I had heard her plead with him many times.

What made him suddenly want to get better?

"Why are you so quiet?" he asked, puzzled.

"How could I not be? It feels like I just witnessed a miracle. What made you want to see and walk again?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"To make the sex better," he replied.

"Mr. Salonga!" I exclaimed, frustrated. "Is sex all you think about?"

"Yes, but let's see if that's still the case after I've had a taste of you," he said nonchalantly.

His casual response left me speechless.

"I wish I could have a normal conversation with you for once," I said as I stood up.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm going to check what's in your fridge. I'm hungry," I replied.

"Don't cook. Let's just order food," he instructed. "We have a maid, but she's only here during the day to clean. In the afternoons, it's just us, like now."

I nodded but still headed to the kitchen.

"Are you hungry? What do you want?" I asked.

It was too late for a snack and too early for dinner, so I was thinking of preparing something light.

"You," he said.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I want to eat you."

I turned around to see him laughing like he had just heard the funniest joke. The jerk wouldn't stop. He must have been imagining my reaction to his ridiculous comment. What a scoundrel!

"Why are you quiet? It was just a joke," Maximus asked.

"Cut it out with the perverted jokes, Mr. Salonga," I demanded.

"Get used to calling me ‘love'. We'll soon be married, not employer and employee. It'll be awkward for other people to hear you calling me ‘Mr. Salonga'."

He had a point, but still...

"It's not that easy. I need time to adjust," I said.

That word 'love' was meant for someone I truly cared about.

I didn't understand why it was so important to him for us to use it. Maybe he just wanted to flaunt our fake relationship, to prove to himself—and perhaps his ex—that he had moved on.

Ego really was a formidable opponent.