6. The Acceptance.

"Are… are you sure?" Alaric stuttered.

Damn! He never stuttered, but here he was.

Nicolette's eyes burned with madness, and it scared him, but he forced himself not to show it.

"Yes," she said, her voice shaking with anger.

What happened to her? She was different, both in an intriguing and scary way.

"All right," he replied, his eyes darting to Richard who stood up.

They had been discussing business before she barged in. He had been telling Richard about his proposition to her and how she had rejected him.

He should have been excited she was back, that she had accepted the offer. Yet, excitement was the last thing he felt.

"One year right?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied with a nod, trying to compose himself.

Richard turned to her with a sweet smile. "Nice to meet you, Miss Voss."

Nicolette blinked, as if just noticing Richard. "Oh… I didn't see you there," she said, the anger replaced by embarrassment.

"No problem at all. People say that a lot," Richard teased.

Nicolette chuckled, her smile a little unsteady.

Crazy Richard, always knowing how to work the charm.

"I'll be out of your hair. See you later?" Richard asked, already moving to the door.

"Sure," Alaric replied. Once Richard left, he tilted his head towards Nicolette. "I apologize for my cousin's weird sense of humor," he said, then gestured to a chair. "Please, have a seat."

Nicolette sat, the amusement in her eyes already replaced with seriousness.

A seriousness that scared him.

"Mr Allens, I'll accept your offer, but I have my conditions," she said, going straight to the point.

"I'm all ears," he replied, offering a small smile on his face as he leaned into his chair.

"You will help me financially, as soon as possible," she said.

He had been expecting something else, something absurd.

"No intimacy between us—no kiss, no sex, nothing like that."

Ah, there it was.

"Miss Voss," he said, leaning forward. "I have no plans to sleep with you."

"Good," she said firmly, but her cheeks were turning red.

He observed her, watching as her mouth twisted in determination. Something had happened to her, she didn't seem like the timid woman who had left his office just moments ago.

"I have my conditions as well," he said, and watched as her blush deepened.

He wasn't going to let it be that easy for her.

"What are they?" she asked, keeping her head high.

"You'll act like my wife publicly. I have a large amount of staff, and I don't want to have to explain things to them. So, you'll act like my wife privately as well."

He didn't trust any of his staff not to tell his mother the things that go on in his house. After all, they all used to work for Clara before.

"So, we'll have to share a room, trying to sell the facade," he finished.

"Absolutely not!" she snapped, springing to her feet. "What part of no intimacy didn't you get?"

Annoyance raced in him. Why the hell did her words get under his skin?

"I am definitely not sleeping with you, sweetheart," he said, the annoyance evident in his tone. "Sharing a room doesn't mean sharing a bed."

"I have a boyfriend," she said firmly.

"Good."

But it really wasn't.

"I hope your boyfriend won't hinder this marriage."

"No, he understands very well," she said, looking away. "He's sweet like that."

He chuckled bitterly. "Sweet? He's okay with you marrying someone else?"

"It's none of your business, Mr Allens. Let's just get this over with," she replied sharply.

His hand tightened as he reached for the intercom on his desk and dialed Stelle's number. "Call Harry and have him draft out a marriage contract."

Harry was his lawyer and Alaric had briefly explained things to him after Nicolette had left the office. Just in case.

And here she was. Lucky him.

Confusion etched on her face when he dropped the call. "I thought you had it all ready?"

"Coming from a woman who didn't want to get married before? How was I supposed to know you'd come back?"

She frowned, her forehead creasing as she muttered, "Whatever."

"Please sit down. Your pacing is driving me nuts," he said, gesturing to the chair.

Nicolette narrowed her eyes, eyeing the chair suspiciously. "Well, if it bothers you that much, I'll stand. You're welcome."

Annoyance coursed through him, but he kept his cool.

She wanted to provoke him, to rattle him. He knew that, he could see it in those gorgeous brown eyes of hers.

Instead of arguing, he leaned back in his chair, refusing to give her that satisfaction.

"So," she said, facing him. "What now?"

"We wait," Alaric said, forcing a smile.

She bit her lip and looked away, but he saw the dejection in her eyes before she did.

Did she not want to wait? Why so suddenly eager?

He didn't know whether to be happy or terrified that she wanted the marriage to happen immediately.

Did she have ulterior motives?

What changed?

Her phone rang and Alaric saw the small tremble in her hand as she reached for it.

But she didn't pick, instead her eyes widened with anger.

He was curious and he let it get the best of him. "What happened?"

She turned to him as if surprised he was in his own office. "Uhmm… nothing."

But he could weirdly tell she was lying, her eyes lit up in a… way.

Yet, he didn't push. "Alright."

Nicolette sighed and sat down on the same chair he had been begging her to sit on. "Is… there… a way to fasten up the marriage?"

His brow creased with a frown, but his stomach churned. "Why?"

She looked away. "I need the marriage to happen before eight."

"What?"

"It's complicated," she quickly added, "but if I don't get married, I will be betrothed to another man—another stranger."

Ouch.

Yet it wasn't only the adjective that stung him. It was the fact that there were too many people already.

She had a boyfriend.

She was also betrothed.

This was getting more complicated than he thought.

Nicolette leaned forward. "Please," she pleaded, her desperation tugging at his heart. "Can't you call your lawyer to quickly draft the contract or something?"

"It's more complicated than that."

"Then do something!" she snapped, hitting the table. Her blush deepened. "Sorry," she muttered.

Her desperation got to him and despite not wanting to, his mind was already searching for solutions.

For a situation he knew nothing about.

"We can go public already," Alaric said. "I can have my people stage a proposal." He leaned forward, liking the idea. "It would be like we had been dating all along and I just made our relationship public. We'll still have to work on the dynamics, of course."

She shifted on the chair and he could tell she was considering his statement. After what felt like a long time, she finally responded. "That sounds like a good idea, except for some small things."

He groaned aloud.

"Are there more men I should be worried about, aside from the other two?" He hadn't meant to sound weird, but it was too late to take it back.

Nicolette looked at him—apparently, what she was about to say was even more uncomfortable than his own awkward remark. "I'm in a lot of debt."

Alaric sighed with relief, he had thought it was something more serious. "That's it?"

"Yes, and the fact that I just lost my gallery to a fire and now I have to start afresh," she blurted out, her eyes flashing with anger again.

"Calm down. I didn't know about that."

"It's not you," she sighed. "It… I just need it to work."

Alaric's stomach sank with the look on her face. He stood up, fueled by the desire to solve her problems. "Just go home, I'll sort everything out."

Nicolette's eyes widened. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no. The arrangement is still on," he smiled. "Just go home and relax. I'll call you soon."

She hesitated before standing up. "Alright… thank you, Mr Allens."

"You're welcome."

Once Nicolette left his office, he called Stelle again. "Call Tom, tell him to give me everything on Nicolette Voss," he said, ending the call.

After a few minutes, his personal assistant, Tom, entered the office, handing over a brown envelope.

Without looking at him, Alaric collected the file and went through it. Everything about Nicolette was here, including the dickhead boyfriend, but nothing about the betrothed.

25 years old, an art major graduate. Mother was late. Father had remarried.

And then debt—400,567 dollars.

How did she rack up this much in just six months?

Then he read about the fire and his heart flipped. He needed to know more about this, but he would wait till she told him herself.

He dialed Stelle again requesting for Tom. When Tom entered, he said. "Pay off Miss Voss debt, plan a surprise proposal and release a kind statement about the fire accident."

If he was going to be her husband, he had to play the part.

One hour after Tom left, his phone rang.

His mother was on the line.

"Hello, mother."

"Alaric Ezra Julius!" Clara snapped.

Alaric rolled his eyes. The full-name treatment. Never a good sign.

"What is this nonsense about you and Nicolette Voss?" Clara's voice was sharp. "End it. That marriage can't happen."

He groaned, of course she would go against it.