Marriage Of Convenience

Chapter 4

Sebastian Hernandez

age: 21 years old

The Diaz mansion was beautiful in a way ours wasn't. While ours was materialistically pleasing, the Diaz's mansion was more homely. It was alive in every sense that made a house home.

I could see the photo frames hanging on the walls, the happy faces of Clara in different ages with another girl and her mother. A fake as fuck family picture of The Diaz clan was the only picture that lacked life.

My gaze wanders to the Vase in the middle of the room and the Clock hanging right in front of Carlos's office. Just where I wanted.

He didn't knew I was coming over but I thought it would be a nice surprise since I had some shipments to deal with in Spain. 

Plus I had a little something to give to my yet to be wife.

As I entered the mansion with my brothers, we were checked before I had to keep our weapons outside. They shot me a look with raised eyebrows and even I had to hide my amusement.

Everything is already where it needs to be, but they didn't need to know that.

Just as we entered the mansion a six foot frame greeted us with his arms behind and frown etched to his face. "Mr. Hernandez quiet a surprise." Pierre, who was Clara's bodyguard says, with eyes filled with suspicion as he scans the three of us.

"We had business here and thought We'd stop by to have a word with Carlos." Riccardo says as he steps inside and whistles. "Quite a place Pierre."

"You know me?" he asks slightly surprised.

"You're my sister in law's bodyguard buddy, of course we do." He says and I stop myself from groaning at that.

"I'm not married." I say as Vittorio walks silently beside me.

"Yet." Riccardo smiles in that maniac way of his as he throws himself onto the couch.

Just then soft steps sound from above. A set of long olive-toned legs appear and then a soft voice with a hint of huskiness fills the room. "Pierre who is it-"

My eyes meet the ocean blue color ones as my future wife, the girl stands in a room of made men in nothing but jeans shorts and a top that shows off her mid riff and must be two sizes small on her.

What the fuck was she wearing?

My gaze watches her in mild fascination as her eyes widen almost comically and a red hue spreads across her cheeks as her gaze roams over me.

Interesting.

Clara Diaz, or as the media calls her, the Aphrodite, was beautiful in a way that no photo that I have seen of her  in the last few years could have ever done justice. Long legs, Hour glass frame, those fucking curves, Perfect face and those blue eyes that looked at me with so much admiration that made me sick.

I wasn't a guy made to be admired. 

I had no delusions about who I am or what I can do.