4-The Contract

Savannah

Today is the day.

The woman staring at me does not resemble the person I was yesterday or even a month ago.

I'm wearing a knee-length floral white dress adorned with a beautiful red rose on the front. After contemplating red and black heels, I opted for the black ones, which boosted my confidence.

Makeup isn't my strong suit, so I apply lip gloss and pinch my cheeks to achieve a rosy hue. My hair falls in waves on my shoulders, and I can't help but appreciate the curls, even if I don't enjoy anything Bill did yesterday.

I look stunning.

Satisfied with my appearance, I pick up my black Zara bag and head out the door. The sperm donor, Mr. Knight, sent me an address - "Bela Casa Hotel.” He offered to drop me off, but I politely declined; I must remind myself that I was doing this for my mother. Nobody else.

Not for me. Not for Mr. Knight, and certainly not for the Marshalls.

The Uber I ordered was already waiting out front when I stepped outside. “Are you Savannah?” the driver asks as I look through the window. I nod, and he gestures towards the back of the cab.

“Thanks, and sorry for keeping you waiting,” I say as I settle into the seat.

“No big deal wasn't here for long,” he replies. He's a middle-aged man, quite handsome. “Mind if I play some music?”

I shake my head. “Go ahead.” He nods and fumbles with the radio or whatever he's got going on.

A few seconds later, “Daytime Friends & Nighttime Lovers” by Kenny Rogers starts playing. I smile and bob to the music; I love this song. It's a classic.

“When she's lonely, he's more than just a friend

He's the one she longs to give her body to

Daytime friends and nighttime lovers

I hope no one else discovers

Where they go, what they do in their secret hideaway.”

The driver turns to me, “Know this song? You listened to Kenny?”

I nod and smile, “I do. I love his songs.” I say as I Bob my head to the music beat, I honestly love Kenny's songs; they are refreshing.

He smiles back, “It's hard to hear songs like this in this generation.”

“That's true,” I agree. "But I love the oldies and goodies; they used to be my jam“ before I started caring for my mom.

I spot the building coming into view and my anxiety returns. Not even Kenny Rogers can make this mood go away now. The driver must have picked up on my mood because he's quiet, and the music is lower, or maybe it's just my mind playing games.

He parks the car and turns to me, “We're here, ma'am.”

I smile at him and open my bag, handing him a few bucks. “That's for the music and good service.”

He smiles, “You don't need to.” he looks at me warmly, “It is enough for me that you listen to his music willingly and had a good time.”

I shake my head, insisting, “I want to. Play his new songs next time we meet again…sir?”

He nods and introduces himself, “Jack.”

I reply, “Sir Jack, thanks for the ride.” I say as I wave goodbye and look at the building before me. The Bella Casa Hotel stands tall with its impressive nine floors, beautifully painted with golden accents that give it an air of luxury. The name “THE BELLA CASA HOTEL” is elegantly displayed in fine print, adding a touch of sophistication to its exterior.

I notice the front lawn is meticulously paved, and the security personnel are well-dressed and stationed at various locations, ensuring the safety of the premises.

I can't help but marvel at the wealth these people possess. Oh, who am I kidding? They could probably buy the entire country if they wanted to.

I snicker at my thoughts, reminding myself not to keep them waiting.

As I approach the hotel doors, they open, warmly welcoming me inside. The sight that greets me is breathtaking. The lobby is adorned with luxury and class, captivating my senses from the moment I stepped in. A grand chandelier hangs in the center, casting a soft glow illuminating the entire space.

The lobby boasts a few elegant desks, and staff dressed in black and white are attentively directing and assisting guests with their needs. As I take a deep breath, my nostrils are greeted by the sophisticated fragrances worn by the wealthy patrons.

Damn.

Even their perfumes scream money! I suddenly feel insecure, standing in a room filled with the upper class. I remind myself I'm not here to think about them or bother myself with their looks and money.

I'm here for my mother.

With that thought in mind, I walk to the front desk. “Good Afternoon, ma'am. Welcome to the Bella Casa Hotel. How may we help you?” A woman with chubby cheeks says.

“I’m here for a meeting. Uhm, under the reservations Knights?” At least, that's what I remember from Mr. Knight's text.

Recognition floods her face. “Ah yes, your colleagues are here already, ma'am.” Great first impression, “Please wait a few minutes; one of our staff will take you.”

I nod and reply, “Thank you.”

A few minutes later, a friendlier and well-dressed staff approaches me, ”Follow me this way, ma'am.”

I follow the chubby and friendly woman as she leads me to another room with a VIP sign. She stops at one of the doors and knocks gently before motioning me to enter. “Thank you,” I mumble as my nerves get the best of me.

I stand there, chanting that this is for my mother.

She'd do anything for me as well.

I push the door open and walk into my future. The room becomes hushed as six pairs of eyes fall on me. I duck my head as I feel my face start to heat up. My eyes fall on the elegantly dressed men in coats, sitting comfortably.

In the center of the room, there stands a round table adorned with four chairs, and a chandelier light emits a warm, golden glow. The air is permeated with the rich scent of leather and food, predominantly that of tantalizing chicken. The aroma wafts through the air, assaulting my nostrils. Again.

Seriously, this kind of environment is why girls have sugar daddies.

A throat clearing startles me as I realize I'm staring at the man who seems amused, except the one in the middle, who unfortunately has one empty seat next to him.

I suspect this is a plan by my dad, pushing me to meet his son-in-law.

I offer a tight-lipped smile and walk to the table. “Hello, sorry for keeping everyone waiting.”

“It's okay, dear. We arrived a few minutes ago,” says the other man, Mr. Marshall.

Ah, future father-in-law.

I feel a heavy gaze upon me and lock eyes with the kind that seems to tear the layers of the skin away. The kind that says, “I see through you.” Breaking eye contact, I take the seat next to him.

Immediately, I'm hit with his manly scent of pine and expensive cologne. I lift my eyes to look at the men next to me finally.

The younger man – Dominic Marshall – is the one I googled last night. Yep, I resorted to that, and I assume he is THE husband. I won't lie; he looks incredibly dashing in his three-piece black suit. The attire accentuates his deep green eyes, making them shine brightly. Under the golden glow of the light, his eyes appear even more beautiful. His hair is slightly tousled, with a few strands falling gracefully onto his forehead. His face is aloof, and judging by the jawline he has on him, he doesn't smile often.

The older version of the young man – Mr. Ben Marshall – is equally stunning. His hair is also black, but his eyes are different from his son's; his eyes are a warm shade of brown. He's wearing a black suit with a buttoned shirt, and from this angle, I notice his black dress shoes. His gaze is fixed on me, full of focus and attention.

I smile at him, and he smiles back.

As for my father, he opts for a sophisticated look, wearing a crisp white dress shirt paired with a blue two-piece suit. His hair, a mix of salt and pepper, is neatly trimmed, making him look younger.

Nobody says anything for the next two minutes.

Well, this is awkward.

“You didn't tell me your daughter was such a beauty, Knight,” Mr. Marshall says as he turns to my face with a smirk. “I would've married her myself.” I lower my head as a blush spreads across my face.

I am not shy or afraid to speak my mind, but being in a room with three powerful men makes me nervous, and I need to get used to it.

My biological father smirks. “I'm sure you would have,” he turns to me, “This is Savannah, my oldest daughter.”

“I've never heard of her, only Sophia.” Father-in-law smiles warmly, “Where has she been all this while?”

“That's because she prefers to stay off the internet. She wants to live a normal life away from the spotlight,” so that's the story we're going with. Noted. “-her words, not mine.”

“Ah, nice to meet you, Savannah. I'm Ben. Ben Marshall,” he extends his hand. Being polite, I shake it and smile at him.

“The pleasure's all mine.” All the while, Dominic hasn't said a word, nor did his facial expression change. Was he trying to scare me?

“This is my son,” he points at Mr. Aloof, “Dominic.” He finally turns to me, and my breath hitches as I admire him up close.

He's beautiful.

With dark, sleek black hair and chiseled features, his high cheekbones look as tough as granite. He's simply the epitome of beauty.

“Nice to meet you.” His voice has that deep baritone with a rough edge to it.

“The pleasure's all mine” seems to be my statement for the evening.

“Why don't we get down to business?” Mr. Knight requested as he turned his eyes to the men in the room. “I'm sure we all have busy schedules. Savannah and I have a meeting to attend after this.”

“Sure,” that was Dominic, and he's back to frowning; whatever his plans are for me, it won't work.

“I'm sure we're all aware of why we're here. We need to have a contract together. The board needs my son to take over, but not without him being married,” the son clenched his jaw, and I saw him fold his hands into a fist. “And your father has reasons for needing this contract; what better way than to join our families?”

Was that supposed to make us feel better? The only reason why I'm even here is because of my mother. Nothing else.

“I have a question.” I keep my eyes fixed on the desk, willing myself not to look at the man whose voice seems like water in the desert.

“Go ahead, Dominic.”

“If your daughter chose to stay out of the spotlight for so long, why is she coming out now?” He turns to look at me. “Surely she likes her privacy.”

I don't miss the mockery in his tone. Before my father can answer, I jump in. “I do like my privacy, which is why this marriage will be in a way that'll benefit both parties, with me still having my privacy, of course.”

“You're going to be announced as Mr. Knight's daughter and my fiancée or wifey?” Again, I sense the mockery in his tone. “What makes you think you're going to have privacy?”

I smile sweetly. “Why don't you let me worry about that, huh, darling?” He clenches his jaw. Good.

“Well, now that is sorted,” Mr. Marshall says as he bends to pick up a black briefcase I didn't notice until now. He opens it and pulls out a brown folder. “This is the contract. It has rules that could work in both of your favors, and if you disagree, you can make amendments.”

He hands one to me and one to the dickhead next to me. “Read through it carefully.”

I flip the sheet open and read through the paper. It says here that we're to be married for one and a half years; we're to live together and be seen at events. I almost scoff at that.

We must respect one another's wishes and privacy, and there's Confidentiality. Besides that, I don't see anything wrong. I flip it closed. “Seems good to me.”

The sperm donor seems pleased. “You don't have any problem or anything you want to change?”

I shake my head. “No, I'm good.” it's not like I have a choice, so why not get through with it?

“I'm not.” Six pairs of eyes turn to Mr. Aloof. “If you don't mind, can I speak to Savannah privately?”

Uhm no.

Sperm Donor and Father-in-law look at one another. “Sure, we're just going to head out then. You two finish here and meet us in the lobby.” I don't want to do this, but I smile and nod.

The sperm donor nods at me and walks out the door. Mr. Marshall looks at his son and smiles at me before walking out.

The door slams shut, and the silence is loud.

I politely stand up and take the seat opposite him. I can't have his cologne assaulting my senses right now.

Our eyes lock from across the table.

Light green vs. deep green.