A Diamond Deal

I stared at him incredulously like he had grown even stupider since I last saw him back in school.

"We get married for one year,"

"The business school you attended should give you your money back if you don't know the basic concept of business." I rolled my eyes and then looked at him incredulously.

"Girl! Hold on for one frigging second, I am not done." He sounded exhausted. Good! Anything to give him grief. "One year. You play the perfect wife, and I play the perfect husband. At the end of it, we part ways—amicably. By then, I am already chairman of the board and your family should be doing well. No strings, no drama."

I stared at him. He looked dead serious. "define perfect wife,"

"You make me look good to the world, that's all. When we are home by ourselves, we can live our separate lives,"

He took my silence as a sign of victory. "See? It's not so bad. Strictly professional. Besides, I think we will get along just fine. You just have to stay out of my way." He got up and walked towards me extending his hand, "So, do we have a deal?"

I stared at his outstretched hand, my mind racing. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to walk away, but the thought of my dad losing everything was enough to make me hesitate. There was also something in it for me. I could make his life a living hell for all the torment he put me through in school. An eye for an eye.

"Fine," I said, getting up and shaking his hand.

"Shall we seal it with a kiss, then Princess," he said with a wink.

"Fuck you!"

When we returned to the living room, Mrs. Numero practically leaped out of her chair. "Well? How did it go? Are we picking out wedding venues yet?" Why does this woman have to be so hyper?  

Junior grinned. "It went great. We're thinking of a small, intimate ceremony."

I glared at him from the corner of my eyes. "We haven't decided anything." I clarified before both women would break into song.

"Oh, don't worry, dear," Mrs. Numero said, holding my mother's hand in hers. "I have a wedding planner on speed dial. We'll take care of everything."

My mother chimed in, "See, I told you they'd hit it off! Isn't this wonderful, John?"

My father nodded, though he looked more relieved than happy. "Wonderful, indeed." I could feel him watching me since the moment we entered the room, gauging my reaction or my lack of enthusiasm.

As our parents continued to congratulate each other, Junior leaned toward me. "Rule number one of surviving this," he whispered, "always let them think they're in charge."

Why do these people have so many number-one rules! "Rule number two," I whispered back, "stay out of my fucking way." Even if I had agreed to marry him, I still didn't want him in my personal space.

He chuckled, "Hey! That was my line."

As I glanced around the room, at my parents' smiles and the Numéros' excitement, I realized there was no turning back now. The fact was I was going to marry the man who almost raped me and no one in this room fucking knows.

*****

The next morning, I woke up to my phone buzzing. I had barely gotten any sleep, from dealing with my excited mother as soon as we arrived back home, my father letting me know it was okay to cancel everything if I felt I couldn't go through with it, and me up all night thinking how the universe could be so unfair.

I picked up my phone and saw a text message from Junior. 'Let's impress some old men in suits, tonight. Be ready by 6 PM. - Richard.'

I decided to spend some time googling the Numeros. I know my mother was a friend of theirs and I had met Mrs Numero a couple times as a child, but I never actually followed the corporate world.

A lot of news articles popped up, mostly with Mr Numero senior himself on the cover. There was a news article speculating that the junior Numero may be dating a popular supermodel but it was just speculation.

And then I saw one announcing the death of Rachel Numero, their first daughter who was said to have died after a brief illness. 

I dragged myself out of bed into the kitchen and met my mom in the living room area holding an emerald-green dress.

"Abby sent this," she said excitedly. "A make-up artist will be here later today." Abby; being my mother-in-law to be.

"Oh joy," I muttered. "There isn't much difference between the both of you is there?"

"Oh, you should have seen us when we were younger. We were thick as thieves" my mother said, a twinkle in her eye. "You know you can pretend to be happier about this arrangement. You're living every girl's dream."

"Yeah, sweet heavenly bliss…" I responded sarcastically and my mom oomphed out of the room leaving me in peace to make my cup of coffee.

*****

By 5:45 PM, I was squeezed into the dress and dolled up by Mrs Numero's makeup artist. My hair was styled into waves and as instructed she took a photo and sent it to Mrs Numero who called my mother immediately, both women squealing like teenage girls.

The BMW arrived, and I reluctantly stepped into it wondering if truly this was what my life would become, dressing up and looking lovely for a couple of billionaires to gush over me. The driver didn't say a word through the journey which was fine because my nerves were already wound tight.

As soon as I stepped out, there he was: Junior Numero, looking like he had just walked out of a billionaire magazine, the background – one of the most expensive hotels in town. Before I could say a word, he reached for my hand and slipped a diamond ring onto my finger.