ONE

IZZY

The sounds of moans and grunts grew louder as I approached my fiance's bedroom one step at a time. Our contract marriage was supposed to happen tomorrow. But here he was, being utterly reckless.

I snorted in amusement, suppressing the annoyance that simmered inside of me as I grabbed the doorknob and pulled it open.

The shameless duo scrambled apart from each other the moment I stepped in.

Darren stared at me, an annoyed expression on his face.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded, and I cracked a smile, settling down on a chair in the room, my legs crossed.

My fiance let out a string of curses as he raked his fingers through his messy blond hair, and the unfortunate woman in his bed grabbed her possessions and hightailed it out of the room.

"You still haven't answered my question," Darren snapped, pulling up his pants.

"You breached our contract, Darren," I drawled, rising to my feet.

He frowned, confusion written all over his face.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He demanded, and I handed him the brown file I'd come with.

"Don't you remember one of my conditions for our premarital contract? You are allowed to have sex with as many women as you wish. However, you must not get caught by me," I stated, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

"The wedding is off. I just wanted to let you know that," I said, turning away from him.

"You're going to regret it," he spat. I shrugged, unaffected by his statement.

"Trust me, I won't."

A satisfied smile curled my lips as I walked out of the room, ignoring the sound of Darren throwing things around. He'd always had anger issues.

Once I was in my car, my phone rang, and I picked up the call, bringing the phone to my ear.

"How's it going, bestie?" Maxine, my best friend said to me, and I groaned, leaning forward to rest my head on the steering wheel.

"What do I do, Max? I still need to find a husband. Tomorrow's supposed to be my wedding," I told her, and she sighed.

"You didn't have to end your contract with Darren. It's all fake anyway," she said.

"You're not helping. You know how strict I am with my conditions," I replied.

In reality, I'd been grossed out by Darren's constant intimate affairs with a wide range of women. At first I'd convinced myself that I would tolerate it, but as my wedding day grew closer, the thought of marrying Darren continued to repulse me.

"What about this? Let's find you a husband at a VIP club," she suggested, and I frowned.

Why didn't I think of that before? I wondered.

My grandfather, Leonard Montero, was a big shot in the world of business. As ridiculous as it sounds, he'd given me a deadline to find a husband.

"I mean, you're looking for a wealthy bachelor to impress your grandfather, enough to let you take over his chain of companies," Maxine continued, and I winced.

When she said it like that, it made me feel like a jerk. But again, this was who I was.

Driven by ambition, I'd devoted myself to work.

...

"I'm going to the restroom," I said to Maxine, stumbling to my feet. We were at the club, and I was a little drunk. We'd safely made our way in, but most of the men in the club definitely didn't look like they could impress my grandfather. It was upsetting.

"Do you want me to come with you?" My bestie asked, and I shook my head, flashing her a smile.

"I'll be back, okay?" I said and stumbled away from her, in search of the bathroom.

As I walked along the corridor, I realized that I was more intoxicated than I'd thought. It was getting harder to move.

Along the way, I tripped and lost my balance. But, before I could hit the ground, someone grabbed my hand and pulled me to stand on my feet.

"Thank you-" The words came out as a slur but trailed off when I looked up, my gaze clashing with a piercing green gaze.

Pain sliced through my head at the sight of his eyes. They were painfully familiar, but I didn't know why. Perhaps, I'd met him during the time I don't remember. Not many people knew this, but I had no memories of twenty-four years of my life.

"Are you alright?" The stranger's husky voice struck a chord deep in my heart, stunning me to silence.

Who is this man? I wondered.

He had hair the colour of the night. It was pulled away from his face in a man bun, a few strands lingering on his face. He had full, rosy pink lips, a perfect nose, and green eyes complemented by thick, lengthy eyelashes. This man was beautiful.

Even so, I couldn't shake off the gut feeling that this man was someone I knew.

There was a maddening spark in his eyes, one that told stories of danger.

And those lips...

They called to me and made me wonder what it would feel like to kiss them. I couldn't recall ever kissing a man, but for some reason I couldn't understand, I found myself leaning closer to him. Slowly, my lips met his, my eyes fluttering close. A part of me knew I would regret this much later.

He didn't pull away.

He tasted like sweet donuts. He tasted familiar. No, it wasn't just his taste. As my lips moved against his, he gradually took over.

He was one hell of a kisser. When I pulled away to gaze into his eyes, butterflies swarmed my stomach.

The tenderness in his eyes was enough to make me go weak in the knees. Is this what it means to meet your soulmate?

"Do you know me?" I slurred, and he raised a brow.

"Who doesn't know you? You're Isabella Moreno, granddaughter of one of the richest men in New York," he responded, a certain glint in his eyes.

Disappointed, I took a step away from him. I'd hoped that he was someone who knew me well enough. Someone who would give me the answers to the questions constantly gnawing at my mind.

"Do you go around kissing strangers?" I asked. His right eye twitched.

"You kissed me first," he responded, not taking his heated gaze off me.

My throat went dry, knots forming in my stomach.

This tension between us was something dizzying.

Clearing my throat, I brushed my hair away from my face, avoiding eye contact.

"You could have just pulled away. You didn't have to kiss me back," I mumbled.

"You're right. I didn't pull away because I didn't want to," he monotoned.

I looked up at him, furrowing my brows.

"If we're done here, I should get going," I said, turning away from him.

"Marry me," he uttered, and I froze.

Did I hear him correctly?

Slowly, I turned to look at him, my brows creased.

"Marry me."

Is he crazy or just unhinged?

"Why? I don't know you," I said through gritted teeth.

A devilish smile curved his lips, and I sucked in my bottom lip, trying not to show how much effect his smile had on me.

"Is it because your potential groom asked you out in a club, in front of the restroom to be exact?" He asked, raising a brow.

"I told you. I don't know you," I hissed. The steady music bouncing off the walls of the club was starting to give me a headache.

"You kissed me. We're not total strangers now," he pointed out.

"It doesn't matter. What matters is the fact that I'm rejecting your proposal," I told him, and he squinted at me, his green eyed gaze unwavering.

"You don't want me, even when I'm offering something you might need?" He asked casually, and I looked away, worried that I was going to get sucked in by the sight of him once more.

Who was this man?

How did he know I'd been searching for a husband?

He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his arms, startling me.

With his hard, masculine body pressed against mine, it's safe to say that my thinking system crashed. For reasons I couldn't point out, it felt familiar and safe.

"I need a wife for a year. It's important to me," he said.

No one had ever looked at me like that. And I was tempted to imagine what marrying this man would feel like. He was gorgeous. Yet, something about him screamed danger. Still, I couldn't help myself.

It must have been the alcohol. Maybe it was the way he looked at me. Or maybe, it was the sound of his voice.

"Only one year," I breathed, and he nodded.

"Just one year."

"Fine. I'll marry you," I slurred, holding out a hand for a handshake.