4. Stalker

When I got in last night, Jeffery was not in.

And this morning, I woke up to an empty bed.

Yesterday, Mary Morton texted him that she was on her way to the resort.

So, he was probably with her.

Strangely, the thought didn't hurt as much as I'd expected.

Perhaps I finally ran out of tears for a man who never deserved them.

For five years, I convinced myself that loving Jeffery meant standing by him, no matter how much it cost me.

I won't keep doing that to myself.

Our relationship was over. For the first time, the thought of choosing myself didn't feel selfish.

It felt necessary.

I stared at the wall clock and sighed. It was way past midday.

Taking a quick shower, I pulled open the wardrobe to grab a simple dress and was left dumbfounded.

Jeffery's part of the wardrobe was empty.

He didn't just go to Mary Morton; he moved out completely, abandoning me all by myself.

If he knew Mary Morton was coming to the resort, why then did he invite me?

Why?

Telling myself not to let this get to me, I hurriedly pulled on a simple dress and stuffed the rest of my belongings inside my box.

Then I started heading to the reception downstairs to have them prepare a boat that would take me back to the mainland, where I'd easily find my way home.

Although the main event was scheduled for tonight and everyone would be leaving for home tomorrow, I just didn't have it in me to spend another day in the resort.

The elevator dinged when I got to the ground floor, and I stepped out, heading through the open lounge to connect to the reception hall.

But as I made the turn, Graham Scazard intercepted me.

"Hey," He angled his body in such a way that I'd need to take several steps aside to pass.

"Hey," I replied, praying he leaves me alone.

Now is not a good time.

"A beautiful morning to the Runaway Princess." He winked.

I looked around the open lounge. Thank God it was already afternoon. The space looked almost deserted.

"You ran off last night," Scazard continued. "Was I that terrible?"

Of course not, you're the best I've ever had.

But I didn't tell him that.

"I apologize for last night," I told him instead. "I believe we were just two consenting adults doing stuff, and that was all to it. I hope you understand?"

He stared at me for a while, and slowly, his fingers found my chin, and he caressed it gently. "I don't understand," he finally answered. "Please, make me."

I groaned and stepped back, away from him. "I can't do this right now. I’m in a hurry. Maybe some other time.”

Graham gently tugged me to him. "I'm sorry, you've got me confused here. Please, Humour me with a response, Catalina. Do I look like a boy toy or a one-night stand to you? "

My mouth fell open and closed right back up.

"I-I don't understand." I blurted out.

He pointed to the path that led to the cafeteria. "Let's talk over lunch. Please."

I bit my lower lip, contemplating eating, which sounded like a great idea as I was very famished.

Not waiting for a response, he took my hand and led the way.

There were barely six other guests present in the cafeteria and once we settled down and placed an order, Graham began talking.

“I want you to marry me, Catalina,” he suddenly blurted out.

“Huh?” I asked in confusion.

I was expecting an awkward conversation about last night, So, getting a sudden marriage proposal left me completely dumbfounded.

“I’ll go straight to the point.” He said, pinning me with an intense stare. “My father took my name out of his will and is insisting that I will lose out on my inheritance if I don’t find a wife. That means no wife, no inheritance.”

"And how is that any of my business?"

“He is terminally ill. I need to find a wife while he's still alive," he explained. "This season might be my last as a Formula One driver. The family empire needs a present heir. I need to be home, I need to be there for my family. But to step into my role as the head of the family, I need a wife. Marry me, Catalina, please." He repeated

He gazed deep into my eyes, as a dozen possible interpretations of his statement rushed through my mind in slow cadence.

Slowly, the gears in my head rearranged themselves, and I let out a crazy laugh.

"You... you are very funny. Good joke. Oh my God-"

"I’m not joking." He said with irritation, as if I just insulted him.

I looked around, wondering if there was a camera somewhere. Maybe I’m part of a show I know nothing about.

He's probably not serious.

“How do I prove to you that I’m serious? I’m proposing a temporary contractual arrangement here. To get my inheritance and keep my father happy until he passes. I’m willing to offer forty million for your time.”

Okay, he’s serious!

"You can't give me forty million just like that," I insisted.

“Oh, but I can. You see, my family dabbles in real estate. And my father owns a couple of Oil blocks, hotels, resorts, luxury brands, and several others."

He looked at me for a moment and sighed. "I do have plenty of personal wealth, Catalina. But my inheritance represents control of a multibillion-dollar family empire that I need to secure before my father dies.”

Oh my God!

"But-but you don’t know me. If this is about last night, it meant absolutely nothing to me.”

He winced as if I just hurt him.

It took him several seconds to reply to me. “Say yes, Catalina, and you’ll be set for life. You won't even need to work again if you wish not to. And if you want more money, I'm open to negotiation.”

A long, tense pause followed, during which my brain went into overdrive, while he burned holes in my head with his mesmerizing eyes.

There's no way I was buying it.

He's known me for approximately one night. He neither knew my history nor my personality beyond our brief interaction.

Neither does he know my financial circumstances.

And if what he said is true, why not choose a trusted friend? A woman from his social circle? Someone who already understood his family's expectations

Why would he choose to offer a random stranger forty freaking million?

"Forgive me for asking, but are you nuts?" I asked him. "Forty million is a lot of money!"

He leaned back and stared at me, the intensity alarming.

God knows I've never been looked at with such perfect focus all my life.

"Money comes and goes." He shrugged.

"For how long?" I asked. "I mean the marriage. How long does one need to stay married to you?"

"My father has a couple of months to leave. The best medical intervention in the world might get him a year or two at most."

He stared at me, and I stared back.

"You make so much money from Formula One. Even if your father cuts you off, you can still live perfectly comfortably on your own. You want to give me forty million bucks; why don't you add it to your earnings, invest, and live comfortably without lifting a finger for the rest of your life?"

He slowly blinked as if I just said something stupid.

"What? You can't invest and live with forty million for the rest of your life?"

"I could try, for a couple of months, maybe."

"Months? Ha! I just knew you were bad with money.” I muttered.

He laughed, tilting his head backwards and exposing his Adam's apple. My p¥ssy stirred up, and I almost cursed the demonic hole.

"So, what do you say?" he asked, leaning over the table.

I shook my head. " I could speak to a friend. See if she knows someone that might be open to a contract marriage-"

“I want you.”

“Why? I arched my brow.

"You’re fun to be with. I just need someone whom I can genuinely put up with while it lasts."

“Oh please, say something else.” I waved him off.

"How about I tell you that I'm an Alpha Werewolf from a werewolf Pack called Redrock, and I just found out that you’re my mate?”

I rolled my eyes at him and snorted. "Your sense of humor is as bad as your money managerial skills.”

His cute smile grew wider, his eyes half-lidded as he bit down on his bottom lip.

"Your offer is tempting, Graham,” I told him.

"Yeah, I know." He replied and leaned back on his seat, a sweet smile on his face. "So, say yes."

“No.”