CHAPTER THREE

~Drey’s Pov~ 

I was taken aback by the words spoken by the strange bartender sitting across from me. I had never encountered anyone with such boldness. I was sitting alone on the plush velvet chair in the corner.

She was dressed in a white shirt and short dark skirt with a neat ponytail hairstyle the way a bartender would dress. 

“You have such nerve to come in here and utter such rubbish.” I replied, giving her a dead look. My temper was gradually rising.

“It might sound crazy, but I know if we come to an agreement we would benefit from it,” she replied, her voice sounding so soft yet intimidating. 

For a brief moment, I studied her with curiosity. I was assessing her, I knew it. And I was betting everything on the fact that she was only trying to seduce me. 

“I’m sorry I eavesdropped while you were on a call,” she continued. “I could feel your frustration through your tone. And a marriage can most definitely help you out right now. I’ve seen the news, it does not look nice at all.” She stated. 

I felt quite embarrassed for a mere bartender to have such courage to rub the shit they talk about my company on my face. 

“So, a contract marriage,” I said slowly, testing the idea. “What makes you think I would even consider something like that? And with you?” I asked, letting out a little laughter.

She leaned in slightly, her lips curving into a small, confident smile. “Because it’s the perfect solution for both of us. You need the public to believe you’re happily married. And I need the money. We both walk away with exactly what we want—no strings attached.”

I chuckled, feeling I was on the edge of it. “You’re a bartender. What makes you think you can play the part of a billionaire’s wife?” I chuckled darkly as my breathtaking face twisted into a Mona Lisa. “I can have you fired for this, you know.”

She didn’t flinch, but I noticed her sweaty palms. She could lose her only surviving job if I wanted that to happen. It was obvious how desperate she needed money but I couldn’t just agree with her even if it was a good idea.

“I think you’re misunderstanding me. I’m not some desperate woman trying to snag a rich man,” She suddenly snapped. She was only an inch away from me now, trying to avoid any direct touch. “We don't have to be in love. I’m offering you a business arrangement. We keep it professional and look the part when the need arises.”

For a moment, I didn’t react, my expression stoic as ever.

From her expression, I could think of different reasons a lady would be sharply in need of money and it’s funny how she thought I would be of help to her or even agree to her ridiculous proposal. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she slid between my knees, spreading my legs slightly, before leaning in closer, her breath warm against my neck.

Immediately, my fingers wrapped around her neck, stopping her. “Do you want to die? Now get out of my face,” I growled.

I watched her leave the lounge without uttering a word. I picked up my phone and dialed Maxwell’s number.

After a few minutes of being lost in thought, I left the bar. Heading straight to the garage where my Lamborghini Urus was parked. My secretary, Maxwell, was in the back seat, with a driver in front. I made my way to the back seat of my fully tinted car. The atmosphere in the car was unusual.

“Was there a problem at the bar?” Maxwell asked in a flat voice.

My facial expression alone could tell there was something on my mind.

Maxwell cleared his throat letting out a sound which I hate so much. “Your ex-girlfriend Lillian called earlier and she said there was something important for you two to discuss,” Maxwell added, looking at me nervously as he noticed the disgust on my face. 

I completely ignored Maxwell, not uttering a word until we got to the company.

*******

Everyone was surprised that we arrived so early. I usually take hours each time I visit my hotel.

“Welcome back, sir,” all my employees greeted me, their heads bowed.

I got to my office and started pacing around, running my fingers through my hair. I looked stressed out about the conversation I had earlier with that bartender. I don’t even know her name.

Maxwell stepped into my office and then took a seat in front of my desk.

“I have something important you need to help me do,” I began.

“Oh…okay sir. What could that be sir.. ” Maxwell replied, trying to use his words wisely to avoid provoking me.

“I have a brilliant idea on what to give these press to talk about,” I replied as the corner of my lips turned up.

Maxwell was filled with confusion.where. I only acknowledge other people's ideas if I like them, but it was never me coming up with an idea. Maxwell’s been working for me for over three years now, and he knows that I only smile whenever I get a deal closed.

“But first, you need to call my lawyer immediately,” I suggested while continuing to pace around.

“What is this idea of yours that requires me to call the lawyer? Do you plan on breaking any law soon?” Maxwell asked, with concern in his voice.

“A wife,” I suddenly said, turning to look in his direction.

”A..A…A wife? You mean you want to get married?” Maxwell stuttered, his eyes twitching as he was unsure of what he heard.

“I mean someone I can agree with for a fake marriage. More like a contract marriage,” I responded, with a smile plastered on my cheeks.

“Where did you get that idea from?… That…that is brilliant! This will create a little diversion for the press to talk about rather than all those… lies” Maxwell replied, his face slowly turning from a smile to a frown. “And you're a billionaire, it would be challenging finding someone genuine to fit in as a wife,” he added.

“It’s not that simple. I need everything to be documented. That’s why I need a lawyer,” I insisted.

Maxwell sat upright in his chair, checking his pockets for his phone. “Getting a lawyer isn’t a big deal, it’s how and where to look for a suitable girl.”

“That should be the least of your worries. I have someone in mind,” I concluded with a smile on my face.

“Who could that be? Wait Lillian??.” Maxwell asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise.