Chapter 1

Sofia's PoV 

I wiped tears from the corner of my eyes, hoping nobody saw me weep, and that the mascara didn't run because of my unending tears. I was miserable, still in disbelief believe that the first time I was going to see my husband-to-be was when I'd walk down the aisle, and he would be waiting for me at the end of it. 

At least, I hoped he would be there, and that he wouldn't elope. Not because I wanted to particularly marry him, but because being stood up at the altar in front of the whole world would be very humiliating.

"Ms. Baker?" As I fixed the princess-y Versace wedding gown one last time, one of the three women who had followed me since the moment I had stepped into this mansion today called me, and I looked up at her.

"Yes?"

"Your grandfather is waiting for you outside. It's time."

It's time. It's time to get married to a man you don't know.

Nodding, I glanced at myself in the mirror one last time making sure no tear stained my make up, and then left the room and walked down the stairs to the long wooden doors from which I was supposed to walk out. The dress was trailing behind, and the four inch heels I was wearing were uncomfortable. 

I felt suffocated, as if I would breakdown again any moment.

"Sofie!" My grandfather's eyes lit up when he saw me, and mine softened looking at him all decked in his blue tux. It's all for him, I reminded myself, he needed the money.

"Grandpa," I smiled softly at him, hurrying to reach him before he walks to me. He used to be tall and fit once, but years of chemotherapy had sucked the strength the out of him.

"Oh! You look beautiful!" Tears glistened in his eyes. "I wish your parents could see you like this."

I gulped the lump forming at the back of my throat as I held his hand when I reached him. "Are you happy, grandpa?"

"Very." He beamed, "You will be taken care of when I'm gone. Gabriel is a good man."

I nodded. I wasn't happy, but he didn't need to know of that.

"Are you ready?" He asked in a whisper as I wrapped my hands around his arm and we stood in front of the shut doors. 

"As ready as I'll ever be." 

On queue, the doors opened. People stood on both sides of me when I stepped out and onto the aisle, every eye on me. Some hushed whispers. Camera flashes. 

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. 

I looked up. Despite the meticulously planned extravagance all around me that the Whitlock family had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on, the person that caught my eye was the man standing at the end of the aisle.

Gabriel Whitlock.

I had googled him. I knew of his brown eyes and dark hair, his lopsided smile, his broad, muscular shoulders and his graceful stance, but my heart still skipped a beat when our eyes met.

Oh, I so wished for this to be a fairytale-come-true, not a nightmare of a marriage I was about to be trapped in.

He was looking at his watch, and there was a frown on his face when he looked up, which changed when he saw me. An emotion I couldn't decipher flickered in them, and I squirmed under his scrutinising gaze.

He stepped down when I reached the end, forwarding his hand towards me in a perfectly practiced gesture, and cameras flashed more than ever as my grandfather placed my hand in his as if traditionally entrusting me with him.

His palm was rough and large, and mine felt so small in his. Oh, what a mismatch. 

"Hey," I mouthed over the priest's words, surprising myself. I hadn't planned on doing this. My voice was so little that I wasn't sure he heard me, but he did. His eyes flickered towards me, setting on me for a brief few seconds.

His jaw clenched, and then he looked away.

He didn't look back at me for the rest of the time, and my cheeks were still flushed with embarrassment when the dreaded words cut in: "Do you, Gabriel Whitlock, take Sofia Baker to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do." He finally turned to me, and I bit my lower lip.

"And do you, Sofia Baker, take Gabriel Whitlock to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

This was suffocating. The outfit I was wearing costed more than my apartment. "I do," I still answered.

"Gabriel, you may kiss your bride." The officiant announced, and the entire world faded when he stepped towards me, hovering over me despite the tall heels I was wearing. One of his hands brushed my lose locks away and held my cheek as he bent down to gently place his lips on me.

It was barely a brush.

And just as quickly, he moved away as if he wasn't supposed to kiss me in the first place.

* *

We didn't attend the reception of our own wedding. 

After the nuptials, I was ushered back inside by my grandfather.

"Seems like Gabriel cannot wait to get to know you," My grandfather laughed quietly, and I contemplated the urge to roll my eyes.

"I absolutely cannot." Gabriel's voice filled in from behind, a charming but formal smile on his lips.

"You take good care of my Sofie, okay?" 

"She'll never have the chance to complain." He didn't even look at me. "But I'm going to steal her from you now."

Grandpa smiled sadly, and I squeezed him tight. "I'll visit you tomorrow," I promised him, "Don't forget your medicines."

He nodded. He was going to stay the next few days with Gabriel's grandparents, who happened to be his friends from college. I had met them a few times before. They visited quite often after hearing about Grandpa's illness. 

"Smile." Gabriel whispered when we begin walking outside, getting me to look at him.

"Huh?"

"I said... smile." 

I knit my eyebrows furthermore, confused, but as soon as I stepped outside, tens of camera lights flashed in my eyes. There were reporters everywhere, throwing overlapping questions that I couldn't catch.

"Is it true that this is an arranged marriage?"

"Is it true that this is the first time you both are meeting each other?"

"Mr. Whitlock, what happened to your relationship with Ms. Grant?"

I couldn't make much sense of anything, only Gabriel. He had wrapped one of his arms around my back, his body tilted sideways as if to shield me from the flash lights as he guided us to the limousine at the end of the path, and quickly helped me get inside.

Once the door shut, the gentleness with which he had talked to my grandfather and showed in front of the cameras vanished, and his jaw tightened, his eyes falling on the watch again. 

I cleared my throat. "Is that normal for you?"

"Yes."

He looked outside as the driver drove away from the chaos, barely sparing me a glance. 

I spoke up again. "I'm Sofia... Baker."

This time, he looked at me like I was stupid. "I know," he deadpanned.

I shut up after that.

He was clearly not interested in talking to me. I felt embarrassed for trying again and again, and the urge to cry returned. I always knew this wasn't going to be an unrealistic fairytale where he looks at me for the first time and falls in love with me madly, but I hoped he would at least look at me. And talk to me. Or agree to be a friend. Or something. 

But with the way he was behaving with me, I could have as well married a robot.

After twenty minutes of silence, no music, windows rolled up and the scent of a light air freshener mixed with air conditioning of the car choking me, I spoke up again. "Have I offended you somehow?"

"Well, yes," He cocked an eyebrow at me, "You married me."

Chapter 2

I believed in fairytales. I believed in true love like the one my parents had, and hoped to find that for myself someday. I knew my parents would have wanted that for me, and not for me to be trapped into a loveless and forced marriage done for my grandfather's sake.

With every minute of silence I spent in that car, I could sense my own dreams of the future breaking and being left behind.

The silent torture of an hour (that seemed like an eternity) ended when the limousine stood in front of a house so huge, it was a mansion. 

Housemaids and butlers stood at its entrance as if waiting for us, and Gabriel was out of the door the second the car stopped. 

Two housemaids helped me out of the car because of the size of the dress I was wearing, and I politely smiled at them. 

"Welcome home, Mrs. Whitlock," They both giggled like shy schoolgirls.

"Thank you," I mumbled and when I looked ahead, Gabriel had already disappeared inside the house.

I sighed sadly, trying to hide my disappointment as I held my head high and walked in by myself behind him, taking in the extravagance of the Polish floors and chandeliers and perfectly kept flowers in vases.

Some people had a home. Gabriel Whitlock had taken a page out of a Vogue magazine and simply brought it to reality.   

It was so beautiful, I hated it.

I could see Gabriel walk up the stairs, and shaking my head, I simply followed him while one of the housemaids carried my trail for me.

At the end of the stairs, when I took the right behind him, he turned with his hands crossed in front of him, looking at me with irritation. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm following you to our room." 

"Our room?" He looked like he wanted to laugh, "You think we're going to share rooms?"

I blinked. "We're not?"

"My room is at the end of this hallway. Yours is at the end of that." He pointed in the opposite direction.

The remaining shreds of any hope of a more cordial relationship between us died. "Good," I pretended to be relieved, "I was dreading sharing a room."

"Like I said to your grandfather, you would have no complaints." The smile he drew to his lips was forced and sarcastic. "Luna is going to be with you at all times. She will escort you to your chamber."

Escort? Chamber?

What was he, royalty?

Nonetheless, I just nodded.

"Oh, and..." He added, "I was hoping I could come to your room in.." He paused, checked his watch, and then looked up. "...Thirty minutes. To talk."

'To talk.' 

Again, I nodded.

As Gabriel turned around and left, I let Luna guide me to my room. He wasn't joking when he said my room is at the end of the hallway. I had to cross five other doors to reach mine.

"I'll be right outside if you need anything," Luna said, "Just call for me."

My eyebrows knit. "So you'll just be standing outside?"

"Yes."

"Doing what?"

"Waiting, Mrs. Whitlock."

"Waiting for...what?"

"For you to call me." 

I wondered if she was joking but her face didn't move a muscle. "But...why?"

"So that you don't feel the need to go out of your way to do anything yourself."

"Like get water for myself from the kitchen?" I joked.

"Exactly." She agreed.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but then shut it again immediately. "Thanks." I just entered my room, leaving her outside in a guarding stance.

Everything in this house was weird. 

This room was bigger than the apartment I struggled to pay rent of every month, but at least it was pretty. Like a show-piece.

It took me ten minutes to get out of my wedding gown, and then I got in the tub to soak myself in hot water. I stayed there for an awfully long time, scrubbing out the expensive make-up from my face till the freckles they had spent so much time covering were visible again.

I had promised myself I wouldn't think about how sad I was once I was already married, since what was already done couldn't be undone, but I couldn't help it. I knew a lot of girls wouldn't consider marrying a man as rich as handsome as Gabriel as torture, but I did. 

My mother was from a rich family in Seoul and my father was there on scholarship. She knew he didn't have a lot of money, but she loved him and left her family for him any way. They were the epitome of love for me growing up, and I was sure they'd be just in love today if a car crash hadn't stolen them from me years ago.

I got my dark eyes, dark hair and Asian features from her.

I liked money just as much as the next person, but I didn't use it as a driving force in life. 

As soon as that thought crossed my head, I felt like a hypocrite. I had married for money after all. 

When the steam in the bathroom felt suffocating, I got out wrapping one towel around my body, and another around my hair. 

My soul left my body when I opened the bathroom door, and found my new husband sitting on the edge of my bed. 

His eyes darkened when he looked up at me, but he remained unfazed at my half-naked state. 

"You're late." He commented. "It's been forty-two minutes."

I did not even remember he was going to come. It took me a moment to let go of my shock and glare at him. "Did nobody teach you how to knock before entering a woman's room?"

"Technically, you're in my house. The room is mine."

I rolled my eyes, holding the towel tight around me. "Would you have even entered the bathroom if it was unlocked?"

Gabriel got up from the bed, unbuttoning the jacket of another crisp suit he had changed into. Conveniently ignoring what I asked, he placed a black card on the bed.

"What is that?" I asked.

"It's an Amex. No limit."

I kept staring at him. 

He looked irritated. "It's for you."

"I can take care of myself." 

I had married for money, yes, but so that his grandparents can cover the bill of my grandpa's cancer treatment. I didn't want anything from him, especially not the shiny black card with his name on it. 

"Can you buy a Chanel bag to gift my mother for the lunch we're supposed to have next week?"

"She's your mother. You can buy it."

"It's my money. Technically, I am buying it." He grumbled. "You're just the one choosing it."

I ignored what he said the same way he had ignored me earlier. "If that's all, I would really like to change into something more appropriate than a towel."

"You have a walk-in wardrobe, and you chose to get dressed in the room?" He raised an eyebrow, looking at the outfit placed on my bed. "Old habits die hard, I guess. Or in your case, poor habits."

"Excuse me?" My voice was loud as I took a step towards him. "I have been nothing but kind to you since the moment I met you. I was forced into this arrangement just as much as you were and if you can't-"

"Were you though?" He cut me off.

"What?"

"Were you forced into it, Sofia?"

He was being a jerk. "You better believe I wasn't dying to marry a man I didn't know, let alone an arrogant prick like you!" 

"You really want to pretend you're sad about marrying into money?" He snickered. "A house bigger than you could ever dream? Housemaids at one call? Anything you could ever wish for, you can buy with this card."

"You are unbelievable." I shook my head, wanting not to cry at the assumptions he'd made about me without taking the effort to know me even a little. 

"I'm also a millionaire," he clarified, "So use that damn card when you need something."

"If there's nothing else you want to say, leave." I spat out.

He looked at me with a hatred I had done nothing to deserve before saying, "This arrangement will last for six months." 

"What arrangement?"

"Our marriage." 

There was a silent pause on my end. "Oh."

"After six months, I will divorce you and pay you a hefty sum in alumni so you can live comfortably on my money for the rest of your life." Gabriel's voice was bitter and full of a hatred I had done nothing to earn. "You will use my card till then. You will carry my name with grace. You will live in my house and smile with me in public when necessary. But inside, you may do as you please."

"And why would I do that for you?" I fumed. "I can live without your money, so why would I make public appearances with you or not go embarrass you in front of the world? I. Owe. You. Nothing."

"You don't want to play this game with me, freckles." One corner of his lips raised into a lopsided smile, "You don't want to know how low I can stoop to get what I want."

I gasped in disbelief. "Are you serious right now? Are you threatening me?"

"I am simply stating facts. When I threaten you, you'd know."

"Leave." I seethed.

He stared at me. 

"LEAVE!" I couldn't care less if my voice echoed the hollow walls of his mansion and his staff heard us arguing. 

All I wanted was him away from me.

"Six months." He repeated, and left without looking at me again.

Once he was gone, I stared at the bland white walls of my new room and they stared back at me just as blankly. The moment he was gone, I crippled to me knees and let the tears and tiredness I had been holding back wash over me. My house might be just the size of the room allotted to me in this mansion, but it was at least a home. 

Unlike the beautiful golden cage I was trapped in for the next six months.

Chapter 3

Before the wedding, I had put a lot of thought into how my wedding night would be. I wondered if I would have to have sex with a man I hadn't known before that day, and in all the fear of that, I had forgotten staying alone in a huge room with nothing to do and no one to talk to as a possibility.

I tossed and turned all night, barely getting any sleep.

The next morning, I wore one of the outfits that someone had stocked in the wardrobe for me to use. Growing up poor, I never got to splurge on myself. Any money I could save would only go into covering my grandpa's treatments, and we still fell short most times. 

Wandering alone in that big house, I wished I could confide in her about the fake marriage I was stuck in.

But there I was, eating breakfast meant to feed twenty alone in the dining room. 

Luna stared at me. 

"Have you eaten?" I asked her.

"After you, Mrs. Whitlock."

"Please call me Ms. Baker." 

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Mrs. Whitlock. Sir wouldn't like it."

"I don't think Sir would know." I tell her, looking around. The house was huge, and the chances of running into the man that I wanted to actively try to avoid for the next six months was less. "Where even is he?"

"He left home last night after talking to you, and he hasn't returned since."

"Oh." I felt a pang in me. I knew our marriage was just for the sake of it, but I didn't expect him to sleep with another lady on the night of our wedding at least.

"Sir works overnight all the time," Luna quickly added. "He has a lot of meetings with clients who live abroad and he functions on their time."

"Luna, it's okay."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Whitlock."

"Ms. Baker," I corrected her.

"Ms. Baker." She nodded. "A parcel came for you earlier in the morning today though."

I knit my eyebrows, leaving the food I did not have the appetite to eat as she disappeared for a moment to return with a box that I opened quickly to reveal a new phone inside. The latest model in my hand was a far stretch from the half broken one I had been using for the past five years, but I made it work since I couldn't afford a new phone despite juggling between two jobs and taking care of my grandpa.

Until now, apparently. 

I unlocked the already set-up phone to see that there was no contact in it except one.

'Gabriel Whitlock.'

*

In the afternoon, his lawyer arrived with a perfectly drafted agreement like he'd said yesterday. I'd gone over it for an hour by myself before signing it.

I was tempted not to, but also afraid of how low Gabriel's 'stooping low' really was. 

I did nothing that day. I wandered around the house and saw all the paintings like I was in an art gallery, I tinkered with my new phone for a while, I checked in on my grandfather who insisted he was enjoying every moment of being reunited with his old friends and asked me to not visit him but instead enjoy my 'newly wed bliss', and napped more than I was used to.

In the evening, I mailed my resume to companies around me. I needed to get a new job since I left my old one when I moved three hours away to marry an imperious man, but I was confident I could get another one without using the Whitlock name.

I was always at the top of my class even in college, and had over two years of experience working as a financial analyst at my previous company. I earned well, but cancer cost more. So even after working a full time job as their financial analyst, and then working part time as a waitress in an overnight diner, I still struggled to make ends meet. With no health insurance, we were considering taking a loan or putting out small house on mortgage when Gabriel's grandparents, who happened to be my grandpa's friends from school got in touch with him and again and offered to pay out his entire treatment with one simple condition: I had to marry their grandson. I was still convinced I could manage by myself and marrying a complete stranger was off the table but when my grandpa had to come out of retirement and take up a job for some extra cash, my heart broke looking at my sick grandfather work despite being in pain after treatments to unburden me. That is when I agreed to marry him: Gabriel Whitlock.

I didn't know what they did to convince their grandson to marry a nobody like me or why he agreed, but by his anger towards me, I could guess he was forced into it too.

I wanted to sympathise with him, because at least I got something out of this wedlock. It seemed like he got nothing except losing his freedom and the title of the hottest bachelor in front of the world. But at the same time, I knew he was no saint. He was an arrogant man, self-centred, and had implied that I was a gold digger.

At night, I ate dinner by myself while the housemaids looked over me like I was a child. Or royalty.

I didn't see Gabriel at all for the next few days, and being alone turned into a habit. I spent my time getting pally with Luna and the others, learning how to cook the more refined dishes, swimming, and even reading books.

On the fourth night, I checked my mails. I'd heard back from three out of seven places I had applied to, including Wales. 

Wales was a multibillion company that manufactured and distributed skincare, a direct competitor of the Whitlock company. They'd called me for an interview two days later, but I didn't send in my confirmation yet. Even though there wasn't a formal clause in the agreement we had signed, Gabriel had explicitly mentioned for me to not go about humiliating him publicly, and I wondered if his wife joining a rival company would go down well with him. 

Probably not.

His number remained in my cell, and I went back and forth on the idea of calling him. But it was a quarter past twelve, and I hadn't seen him in the house for days. A part of my heart felt tighter wondering if he was staying with someone else... another woman perhaps.

Sleep wasn't easy that night, and I woke up early by myself the next morning, eating breakfast in haste. It was around nine-thirty in the morning when I sat alone in my room and like a nervous school girl, dialled Gabriel.

The phone rang, and on the fifth ring, it was picked up.

"Hello?"

I left the breath I didn't know I was holding. This wasn't Gabriel's voice. "Gabriel?"

"Mrs. Whitlock? This is Peter, his personal assistant."

"This is Gabriel's number, right?" He was probably in a meeting or something.

"No, ma'am. This is my work number. Gabe Sir did mention that he had given you my number to call if you need to reach him."

The anger for him that had managed to dissipate in the past few days was back, and the urge to punch something was stronger than ever. "I need to go through you to get to him?" 

"I believe so," Peter's voice was small. "Can I pass your message to him?"

"No. No message." I replied, and without giving him the chance to say whatever he was about to, I disconnected.

Here I was wondering if he'd mind me going for a job interview.

And there he was, not even considering me important enough to have his own number. 

He actually had the audacity to feed his assistant's number under his name.

Fuming, I opened my laptop and confirmed my interview for the next morning, without caring that it was with his rival company.

Gabriel Whitlock could rot in hell after this.

Chapter 4

I swiped Gabriel's credit card for the first time at the nearest mall on the morning of the interview. A flat 100,000 dollars at the Hermes store, buying one bag for his mother like he'd asked me to along with a scarf I thought was pretty vibrant.

The next 100,000 dollars I spent was making a transfer to my Grandpa's cancer treatment clinic, as a donation for people who couldn't afford treatment, now that his' was covered. The next 50,000 dollars I spent to make a donation to a fund set up to help cancer patients that had actually covered my Grandpa's bills for a few months before I could manage by myself. 

The next 100,000 dollars, I donated splitting equally between two organisations, one that fought injustice against people of colour and one that rescued children from human trafficking rings. 

By noon, I was sitting in Starbucks sipping my regular order at a table alone, when my phone rang displaying an unknown number.

I didn't need the number saved to know who was calling.

With almost a proud smile, I picked up feigning innocence. "Hello?"

"Sofia." Gabriel did not sound like he was smiling on the other end.

"Who's speaking?"

"Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you."

"Hm." I snickered, "I wonder what suits me then?"

"You spent half a million dollars in an hour." He did not sound happy. "What did you do? Buy a ticket to Mars?"

"More like 350. Don't be dramatic." That was six times what I earned in a year normally, and I just spent it in an hour. My heart ached.

"Have you lost it, Sofia?"

"I was just experimenting."

"Experimenting what?"

"How much money I need to spend to get your personal phone number. Apparently, three hundred and fifty thousand is all it takes," I taunted.

"You called Peter." He self-spoke.

"I called Peter." I repeated.

"Why?"

"Just checking why husband dearest hasn't come home since six days. Imagine my surprise when I dial his number and his assistant picks up." I was not going to tell him about the interview I had today. He didn't ask, I didn't tell. Simple as that. 

He remained silent for a moment, and then snickered, "Missing me already?"

"I liked it better when you were grumpy about the dent I caused your pocket."

"This? A dent?" He laughed. He actually laughed. "Freckles, this isn't even a nudge. You could spend this much money every day for the next one year and even that would barely count as a dent."

"Show-off." I huffed in a low voice. 

"I'm going to be home tomorrow," He added, "We're supposed to have dinner with my parents."

"I remember." I wanted to sigh. I had never met his parents at length, and I imagined them to be very... daunting. Especially given they raised a son like Gabriel. "I picked up the bag for her you asked me to."

Was I just having a cordial conversation with him? After he forced me to sign a legal contract stating the date of termination of our marriage?

"I know I gave you the card to use, but don't make me put a limit of it. Be a good girl, hm?"

"Ah, bummer," I teased. "I wasn't even half way through my shopping spree."

"Sofia." He said in a final tone.

"Next time, pick up when I call." I warned, "And maybe I wouldn't burn down your house before you come back home. Or spend hundreds of thousands to buy a bag I fancy. Depending on my mood."

Before he could reply, I disconnected the call.

And the second I did, I could feel a sense of happiness in me.

I disconnected the call on Gabriel Whitlock's face.

After he pushed me around and showed me down and basically forced me to sign a contract, I got the last word with him.

Hah.

I was mentally doing a victory dance when I stood up to leave and accidentally bumped into someone, making the leftover coffee in my cup spill all over my very new white silk shirt. 

"Shit." All the happiness turned into instant panic. I did not have the time to go back to the house and change before the interview. 

"I am so sorry." A voice cut my tiny reverie and I stopped frantically trying to clean the coffee off my shirt and looked up at the man in a business suit.

"It's my fault, I wasn't looking. I'm sorry." 

"No, it's mine." The man adjusted the glasses he was wearing, looking genuinely apologetic. "Let me buy you another coffee."

"No. No. I was done drinking mine any way."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." I smiled at him politely before leaving.

I wasn't smiling when I reached the car. Even the chauffeur frowned looking at the mess I had made. Wales was just a seven minute drive from here, while the Whitlock house was thirty minutes away.

I sighed asking the chauffeur to pull to a boutique nearby to buy a new pair of clothes, but even as much as I hurried up, I was running fifteen minutes late to my interview.

That was not a good impression.

When I reached Wales, I was made to sit outside an office, and I could see another Starbucks cup in the bin outside. It just felt as if the universe was taunting me. 

"Sir doesn't entertain late comers." The receptionist told me firmly after a few minutes, and I felt my heart sink.

I really did not want to mess this up. "Please could you tell him that somebody spilled coffee over me and I had to detour to change?" I requested, "I've been really looking forward to this interview."

The receptionist just shrugged, barely glancing up at me. "He isn't known for second chances."

I sighed. Disappointed as I was, I was just about to leave when the office door opened. 

A familiar looking man stood at its entrance, "I wouldn't believe this excuse for a second, if I hadn't been the man that spilled coffee on you."

My mouth dropped.

"You're Viktor Hart?"

"In flesh." He passed me a smile, "Since you didn't let me buy you a coffee, I guess I owe you an interview."

The receptionist looked shocked.

I was shocked.

Two other employees in the room were shocked.

Viktor walked back into his office and I stood rooted in my place before the receptionist nudged me and taking a deep breath, I followed him inside for the interview. 

*

Viktor Hart was the grandson of the founder of Wales and the new CEO of the company, and I had no idea he took interviews himself. But he did take mine, and he wasn't the stereotypical grumpy rich man. He knew how to crack a joke from time to time and had a contagious smile. The interview went alright, and I hoped to hear a decision from them in a few days.

It was late evening when I returned home obliviously, only to see Gabriel sitting on the couch of the living room with one foot over the other and eyes set on the door. 

He looked like he was waiting for me.

"You've been busy," He commented, his trademark half smirk on his lips as he got up from the couch.

All the happiness of getting the last word was replaced with sheer intimidation. 

"I-" I paused, gulped. "I thought you weren't going to be home until tomorrow night."

"Dropped in to take a file," He said, pointing at a black folder lying on the table.

"Oh." He might've been here for the file, but I knew he was waiting for me. 

Before I could reply, one of the housemaids walked past us, carrying the single Hermes bag from the car upstairs, probably to my room.

"Hm." He clicked his tongue, "Three hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and just one bag? Interesting."

"What're you doing here?"

"Last I checked, still my house."

"If this is about the new pink towels in your room, it just matched the pink body wash."

His eyes darkened, and lips slightly parted. "You did what?!"

I laughed. "I'm joking. But, your reaction makes me believe there's actually a baby pink flower themed body wash hidden in your bathroom somewhere." 

He glared at me. "Freckles, don't push the boundaries of my patience."

"Or what? You might punish me?" I was getting bolder with him, and I knew it was a dangerous ground to tread on.

His lopsided smile increased as he stepped closer to me. And closer. And closer. It took every bit of courage in me to not step behind reflexively in fear. He didn't stop until he was just inches away from me, unbearably close as he hovered over me. And then, he bent down.

I shut my eyes feeling his breath fan over me, and the world as I knew shifted when I heard him whisper into my ear: "Keep this behaviour up, and I might just have to punish you."