I rolled my eyes. “I think I should be going home,” I stated, my fingers digging into the armrest of the blue upholstery chair.
His dismissal behaviour grated on my very last nerve. Acting like he hadn’t done something so inhumane.
His gaze hovered around me before he drank the last content in his wine glass. “So the contract is simple. You just have to act as a wife for a year. Tomorrow, prepare; you will be moving into the Adiaga’s mansion while you prepare for your wedding. A week is enough for that.”
Still wallowing in the pit of uncertainty, no words left my lips. I could have protested; living with a man, I barely knew. This wasn’t how I planned on getting married. I had always dreamt of getting married to Michael. He and I would live in a nice, sweet home and have two kids. Michael wasn’t a cat person, but he said he wouldn’t mind having one because of me.
This wasn’t the life I had envisioned for myself.
A year trickled down my face as I stifled the sobs about to break out of my throat.
Mr. Adiaga's eyes dipped at a rare moment of what I thought was sympathy. “Oh no, don’t cry,” he said with an exaggerated, warm voice. “Many women would kill for this life.”