The Billionaire’s Marriage of Convenience

ALENA

"Alena!" my elder sister, Celeste, shouted from downstairs. I was up in my bedroom reading some magazine I had found on the couch downstairs. 

I didn't have the power to answer because it was obviously one of her tantrums. It was always the torture Alena game in this house. 

“Alena Cora Weston!" she shouted. She was probably trudging upstairs now. My family members calling me by my full name meant fire. I had asked for it anyway but was it really necessary to answer a scolding call? 

In two minutes my door burst open revealing Celeste. She glared at me with her you-have-not-seen-the-last-of-me eye. 

"I've been calling you for ages yet you've been here all along pretending you couldn't hear me, Alena and what on earth are you doing with my magazine. I thought I warned you not to touch my things without my permission," she hissed, snatching the magazine away from me leaving marks on my hand with her long expensive nails. 

As if the drama wasn't enough, my mother, Lynette Weston, made her entry with her other son AKA Celeste's twin brother, Steve, right behind her. 

Save me, Lord. 

“Can we ever get peace in this house? What's the ruckus about now?" Mom asked. 

I remained silent, looking at them because I didn't want any trouble. 

"I think it's high time you got rid of Alena, Mother. I just can't stand her anymore. You have to take action," Celeste flared, folding her arms. 

"Alena, what have you done this time?" Mom asked, shooting me daggers. 

Of course, in terms of picking sides, my mom always favored her eldest two. 

"Does it always have to be my fault or something I did Mom?" I said, softly looking straight into her eyes. 

If someone was to come up with a theory that she wasn't my biological mother and they weren't my biological siblings, I would believe them without a second thought. 

"Show some respect to your mother, Alena," Steve warned, typing something on his phone. He was just like the rest. 

"Does she ever respect me? It's like she has two children and I'm just a nobody in this house." 

"Yes, that's what you are! You thought you were some princess? You disgust me. You resemble nothing Weston worthy. You are a disgrace to our family," Celeste spat at me venomously. 

It hurt. It hurt a lot. Yes, I knew that was the case but they didn't have to rub it in my face. My eyes had already welled up tears threatening to spill. 

"Why? What did I do wrong? What did I do to deserve all this hatred from you?" 

My eyes were filled to the brim with tears but it didn't faze them even one bit. 

"Dad died because of you, Alena. It was purely your fault. I just wish it had been you who died in that accident and not him. We will never forgive you for snatching away the best man from this planet," Steve spat at me. 

If I had been close to him he would have slapped me hard. 

"How was I supposed to know we would crash that day?" I defended myself. 

"You were stubborn to go out, Alena. Your childish tantrums cost me my husband, Alena." 

"But…"

"Has anyone ever told you how irritating your voice is? Your voice is so low and scratching. Maybe you should try and speak less because I'm sure no one would be interested in hearing your voice," Celeste advised and walked out without waiting for my reply. 

Mom and Steve followed suit, banging the door behind them. 

I felt an inexplicable tump lodge in my throat. I fell into a disheveled heap on the floor and my tears involuntarily spilled down my cheeks. 

I was bleeding inwardly. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was my fault but I'd never hurt my best friend and superman on this entire planet. 

Gerald Weston was my everything. I remembered his death every day as if it were yesterday. Everything had happened so fast that I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye or try to save him. 

He saved me but couldn't save himself. The guilt I felt was intense. 

Before his death everything was perfect. We were the perfect family. I was a daddy's girl and everyone's favorite. I used to smile too, laugh, and be the life of the party. 

His death was a wind of change. I lost everything that day. I lost my family, my inner self, hope itself, and my voice too. 

I couldn't raise my voice anymore because when the car burst into flames I screamed so loud that I damaged myself. I didn't have the confidence to do so anyway. 

Sometimes I wished I had died in his place. We couldn't live without each other. I was dying from the inside. 

It had already been five years now and I still missed him every day. I wiped away my tears and hugged my trembling knees reminiscing on all the memories. If only I could turn back time. 

Celeste and Steve were twenty-five-year-olds, Celeste being a top model with beauty and brains. She had everything a lady needed. She was currently one of the most paid models in the state. 

Steve had taken over the company. He was the new CEO. He was very popular, successful, and drop-dead gorgeous. He was popular among ladies, especially models of the same class and businesswomen. 

Lynette Weston, my mom, was a board member at the company and she ran a successful boutique in town. She was filthy rich and it was all purely from hard work. She had the typical Weston looks and appeared younger than her age. 

Then me. Alena Cora Weston. Call me the black sheep. The unpopular one. At the age of twenty-three, I had nothing and sadly no one. I was educated but had to find myself a job. I never went out in public to avoid embarrassing my picture-perfect family. 

I took a deep breath and got up. For five years I had been waiting for that light at the end of the tunnel. Where was it? 

***

Three hours later around two in the afternoon, Celeste burst into my bedroom a bright smile plastered on her gorgeous face. 

It was awkward. She was holding a big box which she put down and rushed over to embrace me. She hugged me so tight that I almost thought my Celeste was back but a thought struck my mind. She was Celeste Weston. A package full of surprises. 

“Guess what, Cora?" she exclaimed excitedly. 

They all used to call me Cora when my dad was alive. This was the first time in five years. 

"What?" I tried to sound excited. 

“Guess who is getting married tonight?" she exclaimed,  thrilled. 

My eyes lit up for the first time in years. I held her back in excitement. 

"What? No way. You are getting married? I didn't know you were in a serious relationship." 

Seriously, I didn't know. But she was my sister, so I had to be thrilled for her despite everything. I always wished the best for her. 

"Oh, please! Do you always have to be so stupid. I would never get married now," she said, rolling her eyes. 

"So who is getting married?"  

Seriously, who would Celeste be so thrilled for? One of her friends? How would that concern me, though? 

"You, silly. Tonight you will finally be out of our lives. No offense, honey.” 

Me? My smile dropped and I felt my heart sink. But I wasn't seeing anyone. I looked puzzled. 

“Don't give me that face. Get ready for the ceremony. It's a small and simple thing but the reception soon will be grand. Everything a bride needs is in that box. At 5 pm sharp, Steve will come and get you. If you need my help I'm more than available.” 

"I don't understand.” 

“Of course, you wouldn't understand. You are getting married to famous heartthrob and billionaire, Dylan Cameron. You would be living under a rock to not know him. You are so lucky, honey. Finally, you get the spotlight." 

"I'm still lost." 

For the record, she was patient with me but she was beginning to lose it. 

"It’s an arranged marriage. A one-year contract between the Westons and the Camerons. You are the bride. You guys are not engaged, of course but to the world, you guys have been engaged for three months and now you will tie the knot. So basically it was a secret affair. It's a contract for business stuff so you wouldn't understand,” Celeste said, explaining the situation. 

Of course, to her, I had no idea how anything worked except being useless. I swallowed hard. 

"I won't get married to a stranger. I have the right to choose my partner," I told her, trying my best to appear confident and unwavering. 

Celeste scoffed and scanned my body. "As if anyone would want to be chosen by you. There is no discussion on this one. Don't waste our time.” 

"I won't get married,” I said firmly, balling my fists. I was tired of being controlled. 

Out of the blue, I felt a hard sting on my cheek. It stung so much I had to put my hand on it. Celeste had given me a resounding slap. One of her best. She left a red welt behind and her ring had cut me just below my eye. I was bleeding. 

"Anything more to say?" she inquired looking sharply at me. I shook my head no. She would murder me if I said anything more. "Perfect. Suit yourself," she replied and left,  swinging her fancy ponytail. 

I felt a warm liquid run down my nose and I wiped it using my hand. I was already bleeding so I quickly went to the bathroom and cleaned up myself. 

Fifteen minutes later I was on my bed scanning my dress. It was gorgeous but I didn't want to be in it. Why me? 

Who was this Dylan person? So I was living under a rock because I knew nothing about him. I pretty much knew no one. 

I quickly took out my laptop and looked him up on G****e. There were multiple articles about him and the recent trending one about his secret engagement.

I didn't have time for all that nonsense right now. I had to see his face at least so I rushed to images and there was an entire gallery of him. 

Okay, so I was speechless. My heart instantly skipped a beat. An alien color invaded my cheeks and I felt a smile form on my lips. 

I never believed in the love at first sight drama but this masterpiece I was looking at made me feel stuff I had never felt before. How could he be so perfect? 

I read about three articles on him and I was convinced he had quite a good reputation with ladies in terms of respect. So this Dylan guy was going to be my better half? The thought itself made me feel some unexplainable stuff. 

Was it a good thing that I was suddenly thrilled to get married? My instincts quickly told me to put effort into my looks immediately. I had to impress him. My first impression had to be perfect. 

One year my foot. I would make sure it worked by hook or crook. Finally, there was light at the end of the tunnel. Finally, my prince charming was here. 

Yes, I was excited but that nagging thought bugged me. Would the hot billionaire accept a socially awkward bag of embarrassment like me?