Chapter Three

Chapter 3

 On her way home, Tasha reminiscened the events that had taken place in Mr Radcliffe’s office. Prior to entering his office, the notion of marriage had never crossed her mind. Many a young woman would jump at the idea of being a billionaire’s wife but Tasha was old-fashioned when it came to issues of the heart. She believed that a marriage was to be built on love, not on material fantasies. Yet, she had just sold herself to save her family from ruin. It was a sacrifice she could not term selfless because she was totally against it. She was not interested in the trinkets he would give her because the jewelries would not compare to the love he could not give her. 

 “Tell Spencer that the deal is done. You can take a copy of the agreement to him as evidence. His presence is required so that we can discuss the marriage date as soon as possible. Everyone will think that it is an arranged marriage so you are to pretend that we are in love. I believe you should be good at that judging from the act you just displayed here today. Most women are fakers, anyways.” He spoke to her like she was an object, one of his expensive watches and though her father was over fifteen years his senior, he called him by name freely. Her father had obviously sold his respect for monetary benefits. However, Tasha could not leave without asking him the question eating at her mind.

 “Sir, you don't even know me. How do you intend to marry me and live with me without knowing who I am?”

 His answer was a slap to her face. He had sneered at her from beneath his nose, wondering where in God's name she had gotten the courage to ask him such a question. She refused to be intimidated by his stare, waiting upon his reply. 

 “I don't know you but your family’s survival depends on me and I know what all desperate women like you want: a comfortable life, a car, connections and enough jewelries to drown in. You are no different and I doubt that you have any qualities I would be interested in discovering. Shut the door on your way out.”

After those words, he had practically shooed her out of his office and she had taken the bus home. He was not interested in actually having a wife; he simply wanted a possession to gloat over. Tasha was not one to lie to herself. She knew she wasn't a looker with her dull as ditchwater brown hair and her light brown oval eyes. She got her sharp cheekbones and less than average height from her Asian mother, May Lee–King. Her little brother, Henchard was almost taller than her and he was in his school basketball team. She was not a beautiful model like Janice or a I*******m influencer like Connie. She was nothing compared to the women in Nelson’s history. She could not hold a candle next to them, a mere nobody that she was.

 How did I get myself involved in such a mess? she wondered, banging her head against her closed palm. Soon, the rickety bus slowed down at arriving at her neighborhood and she jumped off again, careful to cover the ripped edges of her skirt. She waved at Mrs Sing, a Chinese old woman who ran a tea shop with the aid of her youngest daughter, Louise. According to the time, it was twelve minutes past three which meant her father would be in his furniture store, working himself into the ground. Her mother would have returned from her teaching job and her brother would be stuck in basketball practice at Tiller High, her alma mater.  

 Tasha stopped at a corner and sat on a large rock, tired and hungry. She had spent her pocket money on the bus ride only to be disappointed and caught off guard. A headache rested on her right eyebrow, pressurizing her to keep her eyes shut for a moment.  Opening her hand-me-down clutch later, she pulled out two neatly folded documents and straightened it on her laps. One of them was the marriage agreement and the other was her admission letter issued to her about two weeks ago. She was booksmart but had waited two years so she could work and raise money for her tertiary education. Last time she had checked, she had a thousand and twelve dollars squirreled away in her account. She knew that it was not even close to the amount she needed for the fees. 

 Her job at the drycleaning shop paid only a minimum amount, a little more than the dishwashing. It was demeaning but at least, it was honest work. She planned to get a more lucrative job once she got into college so she could fund her fees independently. She had no other alternative anyways. Unfortunately, the talk of marriage was real and she could not run away from it. She was soon to be Mrs Natasha King-Radcliffe, the wife of a billionaire and a woman hater. He spoke as if he had not been birthed by a woman and he spoke ill about womenfolk with such a vehemence that she feared for herself when she eventually got married to him. Perhaps, he was prone to domestic violence and she would be his to pummel every night. 

 Tasha shuddered at the thought. She had dated before and she was no novice in the game of relationships but none of her boyfriends had been a billionaire. None of them terrified her as much as Mr Nelson Radcliffe, the charismatic boss. Only a mere frown from his perfect face sent her spirits to the depths of her stomach. The thought of their wedding night was another dread. How could two people who were not in love make love? He would be disappointed by her lack of experience and curse her for it. There was no way she was going to be able to go through with the wedding. It was time she had a talk with her parents.