Marriage Of Convenience: Her Heart, His Obsession
[{EXCERPT}]
"Are you trying to seduce me?"
Alana froze.
Roman's gaze dragged slowly over her body, dark and deliberate.
"The contract explicitly states that you are not allowed to seduce me," he said calmly. "You did read it... didn't you?"
Confusion flickered across her face.
Then his eyes dropped again.
"You do realize," he added, voice lowering, "that you're half naked right now?"
Alana's breath caught as she looked down at herself.
.......
After escaping the suffocating grip of her abusive family, Alana believes she's finally free. But freedom comes at a price.
Roman Ashford is everything she should avoid. A cunning billionaire. New York's most eligible bachelor. A man whose name alone unsettles the entire business world.
One unexpected encounter pulls her into his orbit, binding her to him in a dangerous arrangement as his fake girlfriend for thirty-one days.
But just as she begins to find her footing, her past comes back to choke her.
To secure the inheritance her late father left behind before her mother claims it, Alana has only one option.
She needs a husband, and fast.
With time running out, she makes a reckless decision and turns to the one man she should never trust.
Will Roman accept her proposal...
or will stepping into his world be her utter ruin?
Chapters
Share
Chapter 4
Taking the phone from Rosalind, Alana placed it by her ear and walked a little distance away from her aunt. She didn't utter a word and the other end of the phone remained equally silent.
"You didn't bother to call me," her mother said from the other side of phone.
"What do you want Stephanie," Alana said bluntly, calling her mother by her name.
"You now call me by my name huh? No mom any more?" Stephanie asked, slightly offended.
Alana scoffed. "You lost that title Stephanie. Don't you remember?"
The other end of the phone turned silent but Alana could hear whispers from the background.
"Come on baby. I appologized already, what more do you want from me?" Stephanie asked after a moment.
"I want you... No, I need you to fuck off." Alana replied harshly and disconnected the call.
She took a minute to calm herself first before going back to return Rosalind's phone.
"I'm heading to a friend's place," Alana said Immediately she gave the phone to her aunt, as she did not want her to talk about the phone call.
"You already have a friend," Rosalind said, a hint of surprise in her voice because she knew that her niece was not type who made friends easily.
But despites what she thought, she was still glad that Alana had made a new friend.
Rosalind smiled. "I would love to meet this friend of yours sometime. Maybe you can invite her over for dinner tomorrow." She suggested.
"Yeah, maybe. See you later," Alana said, as she hurriedly left.
Alana's brows furrowed in thought as she drove into Roman's mansion. The weight of recent events pressed through her mind. She hadn't given much thought to the phone call from her mother earlier, but now, as she reflected on it, she recalled hearing her stepfather's voice in the background.
Confusion and disgust welled up within her. It seemed suspicious, because her mother had assured her, before she left, that she was filing for a divorce. Alana's frown deepened, confirming her suspicion that her mother had been attempting to deceive her before.
Alana shook off every thought related to her mother from her head. She knew she needed a clear mind to go through the contract with Roman.
She stepped out from the car and the kind looking butler was already waiting for her.
He greeted her warming and led her to the house.
Alana was expecting to wait in the sitting room for Roman's arrival, but today was different, as the butler informed her the Roman was waiting for her in his study.
The butler finally stopped in front of a door and knocked a few times.
"Come in." A deep voice said from inside after some seconds.
The butler opened the door and gestured for Alana to step inside, which she did. Her face instantly cringed as the harsh smell of smoke hit her nose. Her eyes scanned the room, which appeared to be a study, for a brief moment before settling on Roman's back as he stood by the window.
"You're late," Roman commented before turning to face Alana. His eyes skimmed over her outfit as he took a drag from his cigarette.
Alana frowned at his comment. "You only asked me to come today, we didn't agree on a particular time," she responded, already getting annoyed by his attitude.
Roman simply stared at her, his gaze cold, before going to sit behind his desk.
His gaze settled on his butler, who still stood by the door. "Get her a glass of water," he said to the butler.
Alana was about to object, but the butler had already left. She sighed and moved to sit opposite Roman. Her gaze involuntarily settled on the cigarette between his lips before moving up to meet his intense gaze. She quickly averted her eyes.
Shortly after, the butler returned with the water. He placed it on the table and left the room. Alana glanced at the water but refrained from touching it.
Roman dropped the finished cigarette bud into the ashtray and retrieved a black file from his drawer.
"Here's the contract. Make sure to read through it carefully," Roman said as he sliding the file over to Alana.
She picked it up and opened it to read through. As she flipped through the pages, she noticed that the contract spanned four pages. She glanced at Roman, wondering why the contract was so lengthy.
"Is it supposed to be this long?" Alana voiced her question.
"Yes," Roman replied curtly as he extracted another cigarette from the pack.
Alana picked up a pen from his desk and started reading through the contract. Only two pages in, and she couldn't help but raise a brow as some of the conditions in the contract seemed a bit overboard.
This relationship was only going to be a pretense, so why did it state here that she would not be allowed to be in any romantic relationship until the thirty-one days were over?
She continued reading until she reached a particular section that stated she would have to live with him for the entire duration of the thirty-one days, which would start counting from tomorrow.
Alana glanced at Roman. "I can't move in with you," she says.
"You have to, unless you don't want this contract to work," Roman said.
"But it isn't mandatory for me to move in with you," Alana countered.
"It is," Roman insisted.
"Why?" Alana asked.
"Because I said so, Alana," Roman responded.
Alana was left speechless. She grumbled inwardly but made no further objections. For some reason, she was already starting to develop a headache just from reading the contract.
She glanced at the cigarette between Roman's lips for the fifth time, a frown appearing between her brows. She wished he would just stop smoking until she was out of here. The smoke was making it hard for her to concentrate, and he didn't seem to care.
'I wonder how many sticks he's had this morning?' Alana mused inwardly.
"Is the smoke causing you any discomfort?" Roman asked, drawing her out of her thoughts.
She nodded, hopeful that maybe he was going to stop smoking, but Roman's next reply shocked her.
Roman smirked, the corner of his lips tilting into an amused curl. "Good," he said.
"Good?" Alana repeated, staring at him in confusion.
"I just found a way to punish you when you go against the rules in the contract," Roman said, an evil glint appearing in his eyes for a split second.
Alana stared at him as if he were insane before dragging her eyes back to the contract.
She decided to sign the contract, even though there was still a page left to read. She couldn't bear to read any more because the room was hot, and she had been rereading the same line for the past five minutes.
As the pen was about to touch the paper, a sudden wave of nervousness washed over Alana, which she couldn't explain.
Perhaps it was the realization that she knew nothing about this man and yet was blindly entering into a contract with him.
She shook off her nervousness and signed the contract. There was no going back now; she was committed. She stared at her signature for one last time before handing the contract back to Roman, who confirmed her signature before placing it on his desk.
"I will send someone to pick you up from your place by 5 pm today, so pack whatever you'll be needing before they arrive," Roman said, glancing at his wristwatch.
"I..." Alana wanted to say something, but she held her tongue.
"You what?" Roman asked, curious to hear what she had to say.
Alana shook her head. "Nothing. Forget it. I'll take my leave now," she said and stood up.
Roman tilted his head a bit. "Who said you could leave?" he asked with utmost seriousness in his voice.
Alana blinked at him in confusion. "I thought we were done here," she replied, wondering what more he could possibly want again.
"Sit," Roman said, his tone intimidating, which forced Alana to sit back down. His gaze roamed over the jacket she was putting on, then settled on her chest. "Take off your jacket," he ordered, causing Alana to frown.
Alana hesitated for a moment, her frown deepening. His intense gaze only made her uneasy. She wondered what he could possibly gain from her taking off her jacket.
Reluctantly, Alana obeyed his command, slowly slipping off her jacket and revealing a plain, tank top underneath. She couldn't help but feel exposed under Roman's scrutinizing eyes.
"Why?" she asked, her voice slightly lower. She tried to maintain a calm composure, but her unease was palpable.
Roman's expression remained stoic as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on her. "Ryan mentioned that you have a tattoo on your chest. I just wanted to see it," he replied, his voice sounding slightly disappointed.
Alana's confusion grew, mixed with a hint of annoyance. She put her jacket back on and stood up, ready to leave this time.
Luckily, Roman made no attempt to stop her.
She had a tattoo but it was hidden somewhere else. She figured out that her mother must have told Rosalind about it and that was how Ryan also found out. But there must have been a misinformation, because her stepsister is the one who has a tattoo on her chest not her.
Exhaling with relief, Alana stepped out of his study, finally able to breathe in some fresh air. Now her major problem was figuring out how to break the news to her aunt that she was leaving the house today.
You may also like
8.7
I sat at a mahogany table in River Oaks, clutching the strap of a pilled black dress from a life I’d lost five years ago. I was an exile in a world of old money, just trying to survive a dinner party I didn't belong in.
Then the doors opened, and Baron Lowery walked in. He was no longer the boy I’d loved, but a powerful man with eyes like a storm front. When the host asked if we’d met, Baron didn't even blink.
"I don't know her," he said.
The erasure was a physical blow. His new girlfriend spent the night mocking my "quaint" legal aid work and calling me a washed-up gold digger. Baron didn't defend me; he watched my humiliation with a cold, predatory stillness. During a game of Truth or Dare, he stared me down, waiting for a confession. To protect his career and the secret of my father’s federal crimes, I looked him in the eye and told the ultimate lie: "No regrets."
He retaliated by pinning me against a concrete wall in a dark stairwell, crushing his mouth to mine in a kiss that felt like a punishment. He told me I wasn't worth the effort and left me. I retreated to my real life—a moldy trailer and a blackmailer named Harvey who was forcing me into a marriage to save my father from prison.
I thought I’d hit rock bottom until Baron’s silver Bentley pulled up to my slum. He didn't come to apologize. He flipped open a checkbook, scribbled fifty thousand dollars, and held it out like I was a common streetwalker.
"One night," he demanded. "Do whatever I say, and it's yours."
I looked at the man I’d sacrificed my entire soul for and realized he’d finally become the monster I'd tried to save him from. I shoved the check back in his face and ran into the rain, leaving the billionaire staring at the trailer park, unable to understand why the "gold digger" he hated so much wouldn't take his money.
9.1
Alysia lay on the freezing operating table, moments away from donating her kidney to her brother's fiancée.
But as the anesthesia set in, a violent shock tore through her brain, awakening agonizing memories of a thousand brutal deaths across a thousand past lifetimes.
She suddenly realized her family's true plan. Her brother and his fiancée weren't just taking her organ; they were secretly plotting to declare her mentally unfit post-surgery to steal her entire trust fund.
When Alysia abruptly stopped the procedure and exposed the fiancée's kidney failure as the result of severe drug abuse, her family's reaction was chilling.
Her father didn't care about the truth or the law. He ordered his bodyguards to lock Alysia up until she agreed to the surgery, while her brother threatened to freeze her assets and seize her late mother's penthouse.
"You have no heart, Alysia. You don't deserve the Kent name," her aunt spat in disgust.
For lifetimes, she had kept her head down, taking the blame and sacrificing everything for a family that viewed her as nothing more than a disposable blood bag and a financial pawn.
The resignation that had clouded her eyes for so long vanished, replaced by the absolute, zero-degree cold of a glacier.
Ripping the IV from her hand and leaving her family in stunned silence, Alysia walked straight out of the hospital.
She had exactly forty-six hours to find a husband to secure her inheritance, and she knew exactly which ruthless billionaire CEO to target to help her burn the Kent family to the ground.
9.0
I was the poor girl from Appalachia the wealthy Copeland family adopted out of "charity," bringing me to a life of New York luxury I could never have imagined.
But it was all a lie. I wasn't their daughter. I was a living, breathing blood bank for their precious child, Bridgette, whose life had been secretly saved by my bone marrow.
Once I was no longer useful, they decided to throw me away. On the night of Bridgette's lavish engagement party, she and her fiancé framed me. They drugged my water, lured me to a hotel suite, and tore my designer gown to stage a scene.
Her fiancé stood over me, his face twisted in disgust. "Did you really think spreading your legs would make me forget where you came from? You're just a trashy hillbilly."
Outside on Fifth Avenue, my adoptive parents screamed at me in front of the press, calling me a disgrace. My sister wept, accusing me of trying to destroy her perfect life out of jealousy.
They expected me to crumble, to become the pathetic scandal they could discard like garbage. They thought they were dealing with a scared, helpless girl from the mountains.
But they made a fatal mistake. The soul of that poor girl was already gone. And I, the top-tier operative known as Glacier, had just woken up in her body.
8.3
Sandra was a mistress: a temporary escape for billionaire David Kingsley.
But in the shadows of his study, "temporary" turned into a dangerous addiction.
When David brutally casts her back into the poverty she fought to escape, Sandra plays her final card: a lie about a pregnancy to keep him tied to her.
The lie becomes a terrifying reality just as David announces his "perfect" life is expanding with a child of his own.
Now, Sandra isn't just a discarded mistress; she's a woman with a secret that could topple an empire.
How far will a woman go when she has nothing left to lose but the life growing inside her?
9.0
I married the CEO of the powerful Powers Corporation, and everyone saw me as the perfect trophy wife. They assumed my days were filled with nothing but shopping on Fifth Avenue.
But this prestigious family was a house of cards. My husband's siblings were spoiled, useless children threatening to bring the entire empire down with their stupidity.
His brother, Braden, was a parasite who mistook his trust fund for "freedom." His sister, Chelsea, was a brainless socialite being used as a pawn in a public scandal by a con artist.
Even the family's ruthless Chief of Staff, a man meant to be their shield, looked at me with utter contempt, viewing me as just another problem to be managed.
They all saw a fragile doll. They had no idea that their weakness was an insult to the family name, and I was not going to stand for it.
It was time to discipline the children. The first lesson began at 3,000 feet, when I kicked my brother-in-law out of a plane mid-flight. His rehabilitation—and my takeover of this family—had just begun.
8.9
Aubree Hamilton was the top-tier executive assistant to Wall Street's most ruthless titan, Beck Franco. A month ago, she made a catastrophic mistake and spent the night in his bed.
Thinking she had erased the mistake with a morning-after pill, she panicked upon his return and lied about being engaged to push him away.
But Beck, a man who despised disloyalty above all else, immediately suspended her and ordered her escorted out of the building. Her nightmare only escalated when her toxic ex-boyfriend attacked her on the street, tearing her purse open and exposing the empty morning-after pill box to the public—and to Beck, who was watching from his penthouse. After having his security rescue her, Beck trapped her in his car, ruthlessly tearing apart her fake engagement. Later in her apartment, the suffocating tension between them almost ignited into a kiss, but a violent wave of nausea suddenly hit Aubree.
She shoved him away with all her strength and violently threw up in the bathroom.
Beck took it as the ultimate physical disgust. He walked out, deeply humiliated and dangerously obsessed, unleashing his resources to investigate her every move.
Left alone and trembling, Aubree finally checked the crushed white box. The pill she took had expired a month ago.
Staring at the two bright pink lines on the pregnancy test, she made a desperate vow: Beck Franco could never know she was carrying his child, and she had to disappear before he found out.