Kian
I already had her number saved in my phone before she called me yesterday. It took her a whole week to call me and I have to admit that for as cocky as I am, even I started to doubt whether Isabella would take me up on the offer.
It crossed my mind multiple times throughout the week to give in and call her first, but I knew she had to be the one to make the decision to reach out. I even pretended that I didn't know who it was when she called. Little did she know. Her number had been saved in my phone since I did my background checks on her and decided she was the one to use to execute my plan. I even had a pass made for her at the company so that she could have access when the time came.
What I didn't plan for, was the surge of anger when she called me and I heard the security guard had been incredibly rude to her. Whether I have feelings for Isabella or not, she will be my wife and no one will treat her with anything other than the utmost respect. At least, that's what I tell myself as I storm down to the front desk to give the security guard a piece of my mind.
I also didn't mean to call her my fiancée so soon. Out loud. I don't take it back or act as if I said anything but what I had intended to as I watch Isabella enter the elevator next to me. She still looks slightly stunned by my outburst with the security guard and I don't exactly blame her.
I'm an intimidating man and I know it. Working in business, I have to use it to my advantage and I guess it's become part of who I am. I don't intend to tone it down just because I'm marrying someone.
The plan doesn't include changing who I am.
"Fiancée?" She repeats.
"Fiancée," I confirm.
She's huddled into the opposite corner of the elevator, clearly trying to keep the most distance between us.
"You're making quite a large presumption there Kian," she scoffs but doesn't make eye contact with me. I don't like that she refuses to meet me eye to eye. Something I'm going to have to change.
I walk towards her and peer down at her, silently daring her to make eye contact. "I knew you would call."
"Liar," her voice holds a slight quiver and I know she's affected by my presence.
I chuckle, the sound surprising both myself and Isabella. Her head snaps up and she finally meets my eyes for the first time today.
"Wh-what are you doing?" She questions as my arm reaches out and hovers over her hip. I'm so close that I can see her tense physically. My hand skims her hip, moving upwards slightly and I feel her shiver at my light touch.
My hand reaches it's destination and she jerks as the button for my office floor beeps in preparation of ascension. I have to hide my smile because she's proven how nervous she is in my presence. I take a step back and we wait in silence for the elevator to take us to my floor.
Once the doors open, I lead us through the open plan floor to my private office. She walks behind me quietly, looking around at the desks and break areas scattered throughout the floor. With it being a Saturday, there is no one else here and it's almost eerie with the dimmed lights and abandoned desks.
When we get to my office, I let her in first. We're on the 14th floor but the view is mostly blocked by the window blinds being pulled down half way, causing a dim lighting and warm glow. Isabella takes a seat in the chair opposite my desk, almost like she's my employee here for a formal meeting.
I take my seat behind my desk and watch her fiddle with her hands.
"Bells," I get her attention and she begrudgingly looks at me. "I'm assuming you agreed to meet because you're ready to accept my proposal?"
"What exactly does it entail? I mean, I know marriage is a part of it but what about the day to day stuff?"
I lean back in my chair, waiting a beat before I launch into the details.
"It needs to be plausible and we can't get married right off the bat so we need to date for a few months, make sure we're seen and looking very much in love," I begin to list the details, keeping close attention to her to see her reaction. She gives nothing away.
"We'll move quickly, getting engaged and moved in together after only a few months and then married." I continue.
"And we all live happily ever after?" Isabella says dryly, rolling her eyes.
"Problem?" I question. "I can be open to any suggestions you may have." I raise my eyebrow and wait for her to continue.
"Well, what happens after we're married? We live together? Coexisting but not actually in a real relationship? How does that even work?"
"What happens after is what we make of it. My place is big enough for us both and I have a room ready for you so you can have your own space. The rest can be played by ear. We both know I have enough money and resources for you to live a comfortable life three times over and then some."
Isabella doesn't respond and stares ahead clearly mulling things over internally. I hate that I can't tell exactly what's running through her mind.
I try to wait her out but after a few minutes of watching her, I break. "What is it?" I question, the words coming out slightly harsher than I intended.
"Why me?" Isabella's voice is soft and I can barely hear the question as it leaves her lips. In fact, if I wasn't already looking at her, I doubt I would have even caught the words.
"Haven't we already gone through this? I need someone who won't cause any drama. Someone who will be a part of this and not draw unnecessary attention to our family." I repeat my words from before, not really understanding why she's asking me this again.
"So, you need me to be a placeholder? Your trophy wife to stand beside you silently while you go about your life as if nothing has changed? You want me to uproot my whole life to be a dead weight on your arm, just to show the world you can care about something other than yourself?"
"I wouldn't exactly word it like that."
"But you agree that you simply want someone who doesn't have their own voice and won't make any move unless you say so. You want your wife to ask for permission and not question you in any way because you expect your money to keep her placid and happy." Isabella doesnt wait for my response and stands up abruptly, the chair making a screeching sound as she pushes it back.
"I-I need to go. I misunderstood what this was and I- I'm not doing this." She picks up her jacket and doesn't even spare me a glance as she walks out the office.
This is definitely not going how I had planned and I don't know what has gotten Isabella so upset and riled up. I've been honest about this since I first spoke to her so what has changed within the past few minutes to make her want out of the plan?
The only thing I do know is that she's not getting away. She's mine.
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Morally Grey (Grey Morals #1)
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