4

Valentina pov 

The plan was successful.

I nearly burst into laughter when I first saw the expression on his face – a mix of confusion and anger.

Clearly, he's an impatient man. I intentionally arrived late and dressed in this peculiar manner on purpose as well.

I want to vex him. I have a specific reason for being here, and it's not because I genuinely intend to proceed with this absurd betrothal and wedding preparations.

No matter how much I contemplate this, it agitates me, and I want to defy my parents for making a major decision like this on my behalf.

I have every right to oppose them. I have every right to make my own choices. I'm not a child.

Finding Brenda in Fred's apartment last night was a consequence of my decision to come here. It wasn't my original plan.

I was betrayed by my two closest friends, and I want to take revenge on them.

My mother was correct. Fred isn't suitable for me.

Initially, I was giving him excuses to justify his actions, but it's now glaringly evident that he's also interested in my friend. He doesn't love me. If he did, he wouldn't cheat on me with my best friend. That's the crux of it.

"You know what? I'm done here," the man in front of me stands up abruptly, dragging his chair back.

"Hey," I call out to him before he departs.

He doesn't look bad. I didn't expect to encounter an attractive man like him as my potential groom, but that's not the issue now.

We need to talk.

I don't want him to find me attractive, which is why I came up with the only idea that popped into my head – dressing like a clown.

He must have reserved the entire place for us because we're the only ones here. It's not yet evening, and the "CLOSED" sign has already been placed outside the restaurant.

I suppose this is one of the perks of being a billionaire, as Mother emphasized. She said he was a billionaire and famous.

I guess I can also take advantage of him and his status, can't I?

"What do you think you're doing dressed this way?" He shouts at me angrily, his icy blue eyes glaring at me.

I almost recoil, but I maintain my composure. If I have to deal with this man to exact my revenge on Fred and Brenda, I must be courageous and not allow him to intimidate me.

"Do you think I have time for jokes and…"

"Why are we here, sir?" I quickly interject, my gaze fixed on him. His broad shoulders rise as his frown deepens, and he continues to scrutinize me.

Now, I feel foolish for wearing this ridiculous makeup. Perhaps I should have dressed more appropriately. Maybe he wouldn't be this angry.

He appears to be trying to discern the kind of person I am simply by looking at me. His penetrating, cold gaze is unwavering.

"Could you please sit down?" I ask politely, making an effort to remain calm and not become angry with him.

"Are you really the woman I've been betrothed to?" He questions, his expression filled with doubt, and his arms go akimbo.

I nod my head slowly. As I do, my remorse deepens, and I wish I were my real self.

He shakes his head and finally takes a seat. I assume he will initiate the conversation since he's the one who requested this date. He asked for it but hasn't said a word.

He's still glaring at me coldly, and I hold my head up proudly.

"Why are we here, sir?" I repeat my question, realizing that I can't recall his name.

He leans forward and taps his fingers on the table without a word.

Before I can inquire about his name, he speaks up, his deep, husky voice resonating in my head. "Why are you dressed this way?"

I almost glance down in embarrassment. I didn't think this through before going through with it. Is this what it means to be heartbroken?

To act rationally.

To act foolishly.

To become unashamed.

A week ago, I would never have mustered the courage to dress like this. I cared about my appearance and what I wore. I cared about people's opinions. But here I am, sitting across from the man whose fate is entwined with mine, dressed like a fool simply because my heart is broken and I seek revenge.

"I just felt like it," I reply, careful not to reveal my emotions.

Tears threaten to well up in my eyes, but I push them back and keep my gaze down.

"You just felt like ridiculing me?" I hear him ask again. "What if the paparazzi take our picture, and it goes viral? What impression do you want to leave? How do you expect me to…"

"Is that what concerns you?" I interrupt him once more, looking up to meet his gaze.

"Yes," he responds firmly, his teeth almost clenched. His eyes continue to burn with anger, and his cheekbone is raised as he expresses his displeasure with my choice of attire. "We all have things we care about. I care about my reputation and what people will say about everything related to me, including you. If you cared about public perception, you wouldn't dress like this just to spite me."

He knows.

"If this is going to work, then you have to care about what people will say, just like I do, and you have to prioritize my reputation," he states firmly.

"Is that an order?!" I retort as sharply as I can. This should be an agreement between us. Marriage is a partnership, but ours isn't the typical kind. We're getting married because our parents want it, and because I want to assist my father and exact revenge on Fred and Brenda.

He shouldn't be ordering me around. I could still decide to be the rebellious child and tell my father I'm not interested and will never be interested. What made me think this so-called decent man my mother raved about would be humble, human, and down-to-earth?

This man is far from humble; he's an arrogant individual.

"What if it is?" he challenges me, daring me to contest him. I shake my head because he doesn't know me.

I don't heed anyone's directives. Nobody can control me, not even my parents. If I don't want to marry him, no one can force me.

I'm here because I want to be. I'm contemplating our ridiculous marriage because I need to.

"Who do you think you are?" I find myself exclaiming, my attempt to remain calm gone, my anger escalating.

He smirks, as though he has succeeded in unveiling my true self—my angry side.

"You think I'm here because I find you appealing?" I point an accusatory finger at myself. But before I can continue my rant, a waitress appears out of nowhere, and the scowl I was directing at the man now falls on the waitress.

She's grinning.

"Good day, what would you like to order?" She inquires.

I'm baffled by her apparent obliviousness to the tension between us, or her decision to overlook it.

Her smile only adds to my frustration.

"I want…"

"Nothing," I assert loudly, preventing him from placing an order. We're not on a real date. We're here to talk.

He raises an eyebrow, and I lower my finger.

"We're here to talk, aren't we?" I flash one of my sweetest smiles, quickly replacing it with a scowl. Why bother letting the waitress know I'm angry?

"Yes, we are…"

"Then let's talk."

Just as swiftly as she appeared, the waitress departs, but not before flashing him a seductive smile.

Silly!

Without further ado, even though I don't have a job and have no intention of getting one anytime soon, I lean forward to get down to business and get on with my day.

Writing is my only pursuit. It's not a job, but a hobby. But since the night I caught Fred betraying me, I've been making more time for writing.

I never had time before now because I was either waiting for Fred to take me out or at his house, awaiting his return from work.

"About our marriage…"

"This is…" we both start simultaneously, but I'm not here to listen to whatever nonsense he has to say.

He's a man, and he can decide to get one of his numerous flings to marry him. He must have a substantial reason for wanting to marry me, and I intend to use that to my advantage.

"Go on," he encourages me like a gentleman would. But I won't be fooled by his politeness. No matter how gentle he acts from now on, he'll remain an arrogant individual to me.

"This situation between us is unconventional, and it's not the type of marriage I envision for myself," I confidently state, and he watches me closely. "So, I propose that we sign a marriage contract."

He doesn't blink for a moment and says nothing. I'm beginning to think he doesn't comprehend my point until he furrows his brow and exclaims, "What?!"

Don't you understand English? I silently wonder, wishing I could voice my frustration.

"Let's sign a marriage contract. I don't like you, and you don't like me. We'll get married for a few years, and as per the contract, we'll get a divorce. That way, our parents will be content, and so will we, especially me because I won't be stuck with you forever."

He remains silent.

Why is he hesitating? Does he desire a lifetime of marriage? Even if he does, it won't be with me. I'm out of his league. He may be a billionaire, but I'm out of his league.

"Is that acceptable?" I impatiently inquire.

He continues to scrutinize me for a while. Just as I think he's about to respond because he's slightly opening his mouth, all that comes out is laughter.

His deep, husky laughter fills the air, and I watch in awe, pondering whether he's laughing at my appearance or the notion of a contract marriage.