Chapter 2

He took a deep breath and gazed into my eyes, delivering the words that every girl dreams of hearing, "Will you marry me?"

The thought of finally finding my "prince charming" made my heart skip a beat. However, the romantic moment that I had envisioned was quickly shattered by what followed.

"Are you serious? Is it your hobby to scare strangers you meet in parks with the prospect of marriage? I don't even know you!" I exclaimed, trying to make sense of the situation.

Frustrated, he pleaded with me, "Please, just hear me out."

Despite my reservations, I decided to stay and listen to what he had to say.

"I come from one of the wealthiest families in this area," he explained, as if that was all there was to it.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. It was the biggest understatement I had heard all year.

Ignoring my reaction, he continued, "I've just graduated from the University, and my parents are on my neck to get married to a 'nice girl,' settle down, and be in charge of the family business. If I don't comply, they'll cut me off completely." He even had to pout when he mentioned the latter, which I found slightly amusing.

I was intrigued by his proposition and couldn't help but ask, "Why me? Don't you already have a girlfriend?"

He smirked and replied, "Oh, I have plenty of girlfriends, but none of them meet my parents' standards. Plus, they refuse to sign a prenup or consider a future divorce."

His arrogance was palpable, and it rubbed me the wrong way. Who did he think he was, making assumptions about these other girls?

Undeterred, he continued confidently, "My parents have never met you, so even if you're a wild party animal, they'll never find out! All they want is a mature girl who can keep me in check."

I couldn't believe it. Were there really still parents like that in the world? Apparently so.

"So," I said cautiously, "what's the deal?"

He grinned at me, his approval evident in his nod. "Well, it's simple. We get married, and after a year, we can mutually agree to get divorced."

I was stunned. Every girl dreams of her wedding day, but that dream usually involves marrying the man she loves, the one who cherishes her above all else. This guy was trying to shatter that illusion for me. I could have declined, but something about the urgency in his proposal intrigued me.

"Okay," I said, "but on one condition: you have to provide me with a weekly allowance. If you fail to do so, the deal is off."

He looked at me with a glimmer in his eyes. "So," he said, "am I correct in assuming you have expensive tastes and often find yourself running low on funds to indulge them?"

As I pivoted, I clenched my fists to restrain the impulse to smack him again. This arrogant jerk could hold whatever opinion he wanted; I didn't want his pity.

"Don't spout off about things you know nothing about," I retorted, my voice icy as I rose to my feet and began to stride away.

He pursued me persistently. "We should exchange numbers," he insisted.

Reluctantly, I shared my number and saved his in return. To my surprise, he offered me a ride home. I hesitated, uncertain whether to trust him, but he persuaded me that if we were going to pull off this charade, we needed to learn more about each other's lives.

As we approached his car, I let out a low whistle. It was a sleek, crimson Porsche. We drove in silence, my only contribution being the occasional direction to my home.

When we arrived, he wrinkled his nose and asked, "Do you live here?"

I didn't feel obligated to respond. Of course, I lived here. It wasn't in the most affluent part of town, but it was decent.

I couldn't help but reminisce about when my dad was still alive, and we lived in a more affluent neighborhood. We were certainly more well-off back then.

As he followed me inside, I shot him a scowl. But he just shrugged and said, "Listen, this has to be believable. We have to make them think we're head over heels in love, that we can't stand to be apart."

I could feel the seething anger surging inside me, threatening to erupt. I clenched my fists, desperately trying to contain the urge to lash out. "Fine, then leave. You know where I live now." My arms involuntarily crossed tightly as I glared at him.

He softened his tone, relenting, "Alright, but we need to plan this out tomorrow. We need to introduce each other to our friends, get to know each other, and make this whole thing believable."

A sudden wave of doubt washed over me, making my heart race and my palms slick with sweat. What had I gotten myself into? I looked up at him, and he seemed to sense my apprehension. He was about to speak, but I blinked away the fear in my eyes, nodding in agreement before starting towards the door.

Just as I was about to leave, he turned and quipped, "No goodbye kiss?" Before I could react, he pulled me in and kissed me with such intensity that it sent shivers down my spine. It was over too soon.

As he smirked at me, my patience snapped. I couldn't take it any longer. I punched him square in the jaw, unable to contain my frustration any further. "Don't ever do that again!" I spat, slamming the door shut behind me. Leaning against it, I took deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart.

Jasper's POV:

As the door slammed in my face, her punch left a stinging sensation on my cheek. She was a fiery one, no doubt. But, as I walked away, I couldn't shake off the vulnerable look in her eyes.

Reflecting on it, kissing her had been a mistake. In the park, she appeared so small and helpless, with her red hair blowing in the wind and green eyes clouded with sadness. She was an average-looking girl, except for the depth of emotion in her eyes that was hard to ignore.

Normally, I would have been intrigued and perhaps even asked her out. She was a refreshing change from the shallow women I usually dated. But I couldn't risk mixing business with pleasure. Our deal had to remain entirely professional, or it would end in disaster. My past relationships always ended that way. My longest relationship after Julie lasted only two months before becoming monotonous. Thinking of Julie still stung, but I pushed the thought away. I refused to dwell on the past.

Every girl I met seemed only interested in my wealth, which frustrated me. In my heart, I loved my parents dearly, but at that moment, I couldn't help feeling resentment towards their unreasonable demands. Glancing around the neighborhood from my car, I couldn't fathom how any woman could survive here. It was too dangerous. I vowed that no woman, especially not my future wife, would stay in this area.

Upon reaching my abode, I swiftly kicked off my shoes, feeling the relief of being free from their confines. Sliding around in my socks, I made my way through the familiar halls. Thankfully, Mrs. Madison, my trusted housekeeper, had left me a casserole, knowing my busy schedule all too well. Despite her occasional nagging, she was like a mother to me in this bustling city where I often felt alone. I usually spent my weekends with my parents in the tranquil countryside, seeking solace from the chaos of urban life.

After popping the casserole in the microwave to warm it up, I absentmindedly turned on the TV and started flipping through the channels. However, my thoughts kept drifting to Cassandra, and I found myself questioning whether she was the right person for the role I had assigned her. Would she abandon me once our arrangement was fulfilled, or would she stay with me solely for my wealth? Earlier, I had overheard her desperate phone conversation, where she was clearly in need of money. From tomorrow onwards, she would start charging me for her time, and despite my apprehension, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for the upcoming day. I had no plans to reveal to anyone, not even my closest friends, that our marriage was a charade.

Cassandra's POV:

Wow, his confidence was palpable, even though his arrogance was off-putting. I grudgingly admitted that he was undeniably handsome. But how could he have kissed me without my consent? The smug look on his face made me want to snap, but all I could manage was to push him out the door and slam it shut in his face.

After tossing my shoes on the rack, I changed into my go-to comfy shorts and favorite singlet, then headed to the fridge. I found just enough milk for a glass, knowing I'd have to make do. Scrounging through the breadbox, I found two slices for toasting.

As I settled in front of the TV with my meager snack, my thoughts spiraled, and I couldn't help but ponder the mess I found myself in. I wondered what Jane, my best friend, would say, but I knew I couldn't confide in her. She would only disapprove. After finishing my plate, I cleaned up and flipped through channels with no interest. Finally, I turned off the TV and tuned in to Lucius Caspian's "If Tomorrow Never Comes."

As the melody played, I shook my head, realizing that's exactly the way I felt about my current situation.