a temporary ring and surname.

Married for A Million Dollars:

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Chapter 5: a temporary ring and surname.

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The first thing Ariana wakes up to the next morning is a notification popping up on her browser saying she’s lost her internet connection. After reloading the page a few times and troubleshooting the issue, Ariana realizes it’s not something she can easily fix.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” She groans, burying her face into her hands.

Since it’s her day off today, she treated herself to some extra sleep before getting up at twelve and snacking on a biscotti she picked up from the display case at work last night.

She planned to finally sit down on her laptop and browse through some job listings within the area for the extra money. Her shifts at the diner wasn’t enough for her to live by, even if pay day is around the corner.

Ariana checks her connections and reboots the power modum once more before grabbing her cell phone to contact her internet service provider. She didn’t have cable nor a proper phone plan, but she had kept the cheapest internet service she could afford. With cheapest came the slowest.

“Hi, I’m not getting any internet connection here, so I wanted to know if you guys cut my access off,” Ariana says politely when someone on the other end picks up half an hour later.

They ask for her information which she warily gives despite knowing the answer. She doesn’t get why she even bothered to call in the place.

“Mr. Gillies, ma, it says here you’ve been disconnected because we haven’t received last month’s payment, as well as this month’s—which has been past due just yesterday. We’ll be able to reconnect your service once the payments have been made,” the voice informs and she sighs louder than necessary.

They make temporary arrangements to recover her service till her payment comes through. After hanging up, Ariana logs onto her bank account online and winces at the growing negative balance.

Her credit had been declined long ago and she’s been stuck in an overdraft on her checking account ever since. Even with her paycheck due soon, it wouldn’t be enough to cover for another month.

She still has the electric bill—among others—waiting for her in a neat stack on the kitchen counter.

You’ll get a million dollars if you just put up with Williams Montenegro for one year.

It’s not the first time her conscience mentions that. In fact, Ariana’s been thinking about Williams’s ridiculous offer since the end of her shift. The thought runs across her mind every five minutes or so.

A million dollars would not only get her out of her overwhelming debt, but also leave her enough to buy herself a nice flat and a seat at New York Institute of the Arts.

Ariana’s always had the desire to dig deeper into dance after attending that American academy, but her high school academics wouldn’t have even gotten her an admission, let alone a scholarship.

All that could change if she gives up a year of her life. And beliefs. Based on yesterday’s encounter, maybe even her sanity.

If Ariana’s being honest, she still finds the young man attractive despite his atrocious behavior. And she doubts the attraction would cease while living with him during the year.

Williams obviously didn’t mention anything intimate about the marriage he proposed, but judging from his excitement yesterday, it was safe to say he probably had no interest in playing the husband role.

And neither did Ariana.

There were so many things wrong with the whole concept. Firstly, they weren’t even lovers—hell, they couldn’t even bring themselves to have a friendly conversation. Plus, Williams would be paying for her services and everything just felt dubious and uncertain and nowhere near genuine.

In simpler terms, it sounded something along the lines of prostitution. A high-end one that came with a temporary ring and surname.

The curious flame within her quickly dies down when Ariana views it that way. Sure, she’d love the money. It’d make life way easier than it currently is, but she’s not desperate.

She picks her phone up again, this time to dial another number. “Hey, Sal. Got any shifts for me today?”

Half an hour later Ariana’s wiping down a table at the diner. It’s a little past lunch hours so customers were bound to flood in soon. The good thing about the lunch shift is the impressive tip that comes with it.

Whatever work Ariana signed herself up for is worth the distraction from the two things that’s been eating her mind—Williams and overdue bills.

Her good mood is spoiled when Ariana spots a man strolling into the diner and pausing at the threshold to scan the crowd. His face lights up at the sight of Ariana cringing behind the counter.

Wane Harold is partnered with one of the top law firms in New York. Despite being in his late thirties, the man’s notorious for his mature, attractive features that consisted of dark styled hair and glinting eyes, but even with all that, something about him and the way he got around was fishy.

He’s always been overly friendly with the staff—particularly the waitresses and some of the former male employees—but he’s drilled an unsettling interest towards Ariana.

Last time she checked, she was the only one Harold had repeatedly asked out since his teenage years. Throughout the past months Harold’s been suspiciously increasing and prolonging his visits, and it just so happens to be the same time Ariana’s shifts began.

The lawyer would bribe whoever was behind the counter that day to assign him to one of her tables. Although it bothers her greatly, Ariana couldn’t find herself complaining because when Harold tipped...he tipped good.

He’d hand out fifty to hundred dollar bills like candy, which no person in their right mind would do without expecting some ‘special service’ down there.

Ariana faces her back towards the register, but it does nothing to ease the discomfort. She takes a peek behind her to see whether Harold’s taken a table or not, and tries not to shudder when she finds the man shamelessly raking his eyes down her ass.

She’s got no choice but to return the smile and nod at the table Harold was pointing at.

Just deal with it. If you humor him he might just give you enough to cover the water bill.

It’s sickening.

Despite Ariana’s little heroic speech yesterday about everything wrong with Williams’s sudden proposal and scheming bribery, here she is crossing the line by letting strangers verbally abuse and ogle her for an extra cent.

“Hello, Harold,” Ariana greets as she walks over to the table, notepad in hand. “How’s it going?”

“Better now that you’re here,” Harold’s gaze lingers a little longer on her hips before glancing up and grinning at her. “You’re lookin’ great today, Ari. Your ass really fills out those shorts, huh?”

Ariana fights off the urge to make a run for it and forces the tension off her shoulders by smiling tight-lipped. “Thanks. Would you like today’s menu or something different?”

“Mmm, something different,” he replies, blindly reaching out to give her hip a firm squeeze. It should’ve been the last straw, but Ariana forces herself to lean closer to the customer’s touch instead. “Give me the spiciest sauce and rice you’ve got. And some ginger ale with extra ice. I’m a little hot and bothered right now.”

“Right.” She saves the eye-rolling for later as she writes the order down and finally withdraws from the table. “I’ll be back with the ginger ale in a minute.”

Saying that Ariana avoids Harold is an understatement. She tried her damndest to get out of every little thing Harold would call her over for.

It’s obvious that the older man doesn’t need extra napkins or a refill, only using those excuses to openly stare and touch her. By the time Ariana returns from the kitchen with someone else’s order and goes back to clear Harold’s table, the man is gone and there’s a hundred fifty dollars tucked in the receipt book.

It’s worth it, Ariana slowly scoops the bills up and sticks it in her back pocket, fingers burning from the touch of the generous tip. It’s worth it, so shut up and don’t complain.

Lunch hours are over now, so she tells Sal she’ll be out in the back for a quick breather. She’s easily dismissed and steps out into the back alley where they usually throws their trash out. Ariana makes her way down to the very end, dragging a garbage bin with her to empty into the dumpster.

She sets the bin down, stretches her arms over her head to crack that knick in her back when she hears the sound of faint footsteps stopping behind and turns around, startled.

“Harold. Mr. Mane.” Ariana pales as the said man treads towards her from the exit she’d used. The very same door strictly meant for employee use only. None of them hardly ever stepped out besides the occasional smoke, too. “What brings you here?”

“I just came out of the bathroom when you finished clearing my table,” Harold explains casually. One hand is down his pocket. “Didn’t wanna leave without saying goodbye.”

He’s lurking closer now, which is Ariana’s cue to back up. But one, the fear in her gut paralyzes her. And two, there’s not much room to move around till she meets the dumpster, anyway.

Ariana forces a laugh, glancing at the exit as she decides to back a step.

“Well...thanks for stopping by. I gotta get back to work now.”

“Come on, Ari,” Harold croaks, his lips upturned into a smirk. For every step Ariana takes backwards, the man only takes two steps forward in response. “What’s a few minutes going to do you? You’ll make some time for your generous customer, won’t you?”

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TBC

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