05. Enter: Mr. Arrogant.

“FIANCEE?” The older man which I had now learnt was his dad and I chorused in puzzledly surprise.

Okay, what the hell was happening here?

Handsome jet-black dude then nodded, chuckling as he held me tighter, dragging me more closer his rigid frame before he codedly nudged me slightly with his elbow.

Hold on. Hold on. Wait, a damn minute!

Was Mr. Handsome here trying to subtly ask me to play along with this ridiculous charade? Hell no.

"Oh shit, my bad. I just ruined the surprise didn't I?" Handsome jet-black dude chuckled, palming his face. "I wanted to propose to her here at this very club and that's why I flew all the way to Vegas in the first place, dad. And that's why she's shocked I called her my fiancee because I haven't proposed yet." He explained, overly emphasizing a few of his words and that was a very obvious clue that he really wanted me to play along with this.

Sorry pretty boy but hell no!

Notwithstanding, I wasn't going to call him out for lying in front of his dear old daddy but that didn't mean I was going to say anything or play along to help him successfully deceive his father either. That was just evil!

So I tried my best to smile sweetly at all handsome jet-black dude had narrated. His father on the other hand seemed to believe every bit of it, as he was now ecstatic with joy and an elated ear-to-ear grin lighted up his face.

"That's wonderful son! She seems like a very nice girl."

Oh, I am very far from nice, Sir. You need to know how fucking hard I'm trying to not knee your son in the fucking crotch for kissing me unexpectedly and making me play along with this fake sham of a—

"She may be nice but she sure is very stubborn." Handsome jet-black dude laughed, interrupting my thoughts and his father laughed along with him, obliviously, while I had to join in awkwardly with feigned amusement.

"Well then, it's settled. Bring her back home and we'd arrange for the wedding within a week?" His father suggested. "How do you see that son?"

"Will do, father."

Again, WAIT A DAMN MINUTE! What the hell was that?

Wedding? In one week?

I go to a club for my best friend's bachelorette, have some drinks and then smile for some dude and his daddy and now I'm to get married in seven days?

Fucking fantastic!

"Marvelous. It would be the talk of the town for years to come! Can't wait for you to return son." And with that and a fatherly pat on his son's shoulder, he walked away leaving handsome jet-black dude and I together, alone.

Immediately his father left, the hearty and welcoming demeanor he had on completely vanished and evaporated, almost like it was never there. It soured into an emotionless deadpan that his face seemed to have been familiar in upholding; a scrunchy frown that had the word H-A-T-E watermarked all over it in bold, highlighted letters. Which made it obvious that he was just putting on a pretentious act, for some reason and couldn't stand the old man, or maybe anyone else.

It made me wonder what sort of crime a father must've committed to earn such a hate that was almost tangible enough to taste from his son's facial expression alone. But I was much too angry at the son here to hold onto that thought.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" I spluttered, making sure dear daddy was out of sight before I would put on a scene.

"What?" He arched his brows at me before he took out his phone from his pocket.

"What do you mean 'what'. I'm not getting married to you in a week!" I raved manically, luckily my skyrocketed tone was drowned by the loud music unless I would've attracted attention.

"Calm down, it's just a contract marriage. It's no big deal. Girls like you have probably been dreaming about an opportunity like this since they were seven." The way the words non-chalantly rolled off his tongue as he tapped on his phone even pissed me off the more.

I took a moment to digest the bullshit he had just spat at my face. And wondered when the cameras and director of this sick joke would come out of hiding and tell me this was a fucking prank.

"What the hell? Did you really just say that? I don't even know you!"

He scoffed, ignoring me and continued tapping away on his phone and it took everything in me to not yank it out of his grip and fucking smash it to pieces.

"You're marrying me next week and that's final. We'll have everything arranged and you'd be leaving with me first thing tomorrow morning. Off course, you'd be paid handsomely for this and I—" His presumptuous rambling was cut short with the violent meeting of my palm with his face.

How dare the bastard? What does he take me for? And who the hell throws around the offer of a contract marriage so lousily to someone they met for the first time at a club!

"I would rather go to jail than marry an arrogant dipshit like you for even a billion dollars." I made it clear sternly, outrightly refusing his stupid offer and then walked away from the bumbling idiot who was now rubbing his red cheek and for some reason, had a mischievous smirk playing on his face.

Such a shame someone as handsome as he was lacked active brain cells.

I sat back on the barstool with an annoyed huff, looking up, I saw my friends all staring at me with confused, inquisitive glares.

"What?" I questioned obliviously. "Barman! More!" I tapped my glass on the table and called for the refill like a child.

"Well, we saw kissing and then his arms around your waist, and then talking and then more talking but this time you were screaming at the dude." Kyndall narrated. "Care to share?"

"Well, he kissed me right before I could even do the stupid dare and then we talked to his father for a bit before he uh—" For some uncanny reason I couldn't lay my hands on, I felt the urge to hide the details of our conversation from my friends. And I did. "—Asked me to sleep with him and I refused." I finished. My drink had arrived and I immediately took a full swig.

"Since when did Ashlynn Holmes start saying no to one-night-stands with handsome strangers?" Brooke teased laughing, and Kyndall and Hailey joined in.

"Only when the handsome stranger is an arrogant jerk."

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The last four days had been hell for me, I think I caught a bug at Kyndall's wedding which made me sick as hell and I had to stay indoors all day.

Halfway down my bottle of champagne on a very sick Wednesday afternoon, I came to realize that I was born to live an extravagant life and I wasn't going start living so meagerly just because I was temporarily cut off from income.

But the money I had with me wouldn't be sufficient for such lavish expenditures so I called my mum and emotionally blackmailed her into sending me a huge amount of money.

When she asked why, I told her I wanted to start doing therapy, and she did send the money.

By therapy I meant buying new stuff and shopping till I dropped. But she didn't need to know all the details, did she now?

So, I bought a penthouse, moved in, then bought the flashy BMW Alphina and off course, shopped till I dropped.

I figured I'd get a job to 'maintain' the lifestyle before the money was fully exhausted and if that didn't work, I'll find a rich old man to get married to!

Everything was going well—

And then I went bankrupt. . .

Right before I even started looking for a job, or an old wealthy man.

I had to go job hunting, or else I'd die of starvation. So here I am, wearing pink office pants and with a white elegant shirt and pink heels, standing in front of the large, towering office building. My hair was packed into a neat bun and I had a binder that contained all my credentials clutched in my arms.

They had an opening for an accountant, and I was very much qualified for the job. I had a masters, pHD and I was fucking chattered.

Well, it would be quite awkward if I had drove in a car probably more expensive than the CEO's into the parking lot.

Contradicts the whole tale of being me being broke and desperately needing a job.

So I took an Uber down to the business complex and just as I got off the vehicle, I felt my phone ringing deep inside my bag.

I ravaged the depths of the pink material, searching for the phone and mistakenly dropped my binder in the process and all the documents in it started flying around.

I found the phone nevertheless, and when I checked the caller ID, it was a private number. Groaning in frustration, I answered the call and bent down to start picking the documents.

"Okay, who is this? And you'd better be worth it because I'm currently chasing flying documents around a parking lot because of you."

"And good morning to you too Ashlynn Holmes." My heart instantly skipped a beat as I recognized the familiar, annoying haughty tone. "My name is Julian Kings and you may remember me as the man from the club on Friday night."

HOLY FUCKING COW!

What in the name of— How in bikini bottom did this cocky douchebag get my number?

"How the fuck did you get my number? And Christ, how do you even know my name!"

Fucking creep!

"I have my ways Ashlynn, and how I get things done is none of your concern." The prideful arrogance in his tone was hard to miss and it sickened me.

I scoffed, "I'm ending this call right now."

"You're not going to do that, Ashlynn, because I'm not done talking to you."

The brash words were sternly spoken and for a moment there, I was slightly frightened.

"I have your location and I'm on my way there right now to pick you up so we can talk business, and by business I mean our wedding plans."