Chapter 4: Let's Get Married!

Silverhaven.

The Presidential Suite at the Starcrest Hotel.

Evelyn, carried off into the night, lay sprawled across the enormous bed.

A lovely flush from the alcohol colored her cheeks.

She gazed up at the man before her, and the longer she looked, the more she liked what she saw.

Then she began her interrogation, starting with the important questions. "How many years have you been working?"

Lucian frowned. He couldn't imagine why she was asking. Still, he answered calmly. "Seven years."

He had thrown himself into the family business at seventeen and had barely rested since. That was how he had come to stand where he stood today.

"Ohhh," Evelyn drawled, thinking, So handsome, and he started so young.

He must have come from nothing and suffered for it.

No wonder he's so hard on himself. Drugging himself, hanging around the door of a club in the dead of night... that kind of nerve is exactly what earns a man the title of top man in the house.

The more she thought, the more she wanted to claim him.

Mine. Only mine.

If I can't have the warmth of family or love, then at least let me have the most beautiful man in the room.

"Handsome, want to come away with me?"

"What?"

"I mean, let me take care of you. You won't have to work anymore."

She hiccuped. "You meet all kinds of people every day, and half of them are lunatics. I can't keep saving you with my needles."

Evelyn was thoroughly drunk. Whatever came into her head came straight out of her mouth.

Lucian lifted a brow, his interest sharpening at the mention of her needles.

He had already reviewed the roadside footage. With a few slim needles, she had somehow dissolved the drug in his blood.

I do owe her a debt.

Make that two, counting the rescue from the burning car.

But then he remembered how she had shoved him out of her car afterward and left him bare on the roadside.

Irritation flared in him all over again.

When he said nothing, Evelyn assumed he was thinking it over, and she kept going with her grand promises.

"Handsome, I'll give you two hundred thousand a month in pocket money. I won't bother you unless I need you."

"You can do whatever you like, as long as you don't chase other women. And when we need each other, we'll help each other out."

"Oh, and I'll get you full health and pension coverage and a housing allowance, too!"

She had completely let herself go.

Lucian had no idea where this woman found the nerve.

*She'd support me on two hundred thousand a month?*

He gave a cold laugh. "I'm too expensive for you."

"That's fine, name your price."

"It isn't about the price."

"Not about the price?" Evelyn murmured, and promptly misunderstood. "Oh. Do you want something real? Do you want to marry me?"

Marry.

The word landed strangely in Lucian's chest.

After all, she was his fiancée.

His expression flickered. Maybe it was a test, maybe it was mischief, but he answered with a question of his own.

"Yes. Marriage is all I want. Would you?"

"Um..." Evelyn hesitated.

She already had a fiancé. She had already received a check for one hundred million.

But I don't want that Young Lord Ashford at all!

I was supposed to be getting out of that engagement!

Then a thought struck her.

What if I marry first and ask questions later? Even if Young Lord Ashford is out of his mind, he wouldn't take a bride who's already married. And if word got out, how would the Ashfords hold their heads up in Silverhaven?

The more she turned it over, the more thrilled she became.

She laughed out loud and nodded hard. "Yes! Of course I'm willing!"

Then she held up a finger. "But it has to be a fake marriage."

"...Hm?"

Now it was Lucian's turn to be stunned.

He couldn't follow this woman's logic at all.

Evelyn explained earnestly, "The truth is, my greedy mother wants to marry me off to some seventy-year-old geezer to bring him good luck!"

"I won't do it. It's my life, and I'm the one who decides."

She left out that the "geezer" came from the Ashford family. She was afraid it would scare him off.

Lucian found himself transformed into a decrepit seventy-year-old.

His feelings were complicated, and he had nothing to say.

"Handsome, don't just sit there," Evelyn pressed. "Are you in or not?"

"I'll still pay you the same amount. It's only a fake marriage. We divorce in a year, no, six months at most."

"It's far easier than being a kept man. You don't even have to sacrifice your looks!"

The more she talked, the more sober she sounded, though she was still completely drunk. She kept up the sales pitch like a woman running a scheme.

Lucian hadn't expected her to loathe this marriage so much.

He didn't want it either. Even so, her contempt for it irritated him in a way he couldn't explain.

I'd like to play a little trick on her.

After a moment, he said, "Marriage is fine. But we sign a prenuptial agreement first."

"No problem!" Evelyn agreed at once.

Good. This way he won't cling to me and refuse to leave.

Lucian worked fast. Ten minutes later, the contract was delivered straight to the suite.

Two copies.

The terms: divorce after six months, with each keeping their own assets.

Neither spouse may have intimate contact with anyone of the opposite sex during the marriage.

The wife pays the husband two hundred thousand a month in pocket money, plus health and pension coverage and a housing allowance.

That last clause was Evelyn's own addition, and Lucian didn't object.

Only when she signed did Evelyn notice the man's surname was Ashford, and his name was Lucian.

Same surname as my fiancé. What a coincidence.

She didn't think twice about it.

Contract signed, she clenched both fists like a soldier marching into battle and announced, "I'm going home to get my family registry book right now! See you at the Silverhaven Marriage Registry tomorrow morning!"

The moment the words left her mouth, the alcohol hit her again, and she crumpled.

Lucian caught her in time, saving her head from the floor.

He looked down at the little woman in his arms, helpless and half laughing.

She's rather cute.

If I never find her, marrying this one doesn't seem so bad.

The thought was cut off almost as soon as it formed.

I will find her. I will.

At last he drew a blanket over Evelyn, left a note on the table, and checked that everything was in order. Then he turned and walked out.

The next day.

Evelyn woke with a pounding headache.

She had drunk far too much, and her mind was a fog.

She remembered meeting a male companion, being carried to a hotel...

...telling him she wanted to keep him...

...and then something about a fake marriage.

They had even signed a prenup.

Oh, heavens!

What nonsense was I spouting?!

She was drowning in regret.

Then she spotted the note on the table, and a chill ran down her spine.

Don't forget to meet me at the Marriage Registry at ten sharp.

Meet you? Who's going to meet you? I'd rather meet a ghost!

She wanted to tear the note to shreds.

But the handwriting was bold and graceful, each stroke as elegant as a master calligrapher's.

It looks just like him. Gorgeous, and infuriating about it.

Ugh, I'm getting angry all over again!

Still, she had no intention of marrying that madman from the Ashford family. A fake marriage would do just fine.

Her mind made up, Evelyn went straight back to the Hart estate.

She found the family registry book in Mrs. Hart's room.

And while she was there, she stumbled onto something unbelievable...