"Dad, where the hell are you?" Cassandra tried real hard not to shout louder. She almost stumbled down the street, struggling with her bag and last bit of intoxication. "Yes, of course I already know! No, I'm going right where you are so you better tell me where, or I'll get on the next plane out of this city. No, this can't wait until tomorrow, dad! For heaven's sakes you set me up to be married in two days' time! That's just bullshit!" A mother walking beside her covered her son's ears at Cassandra's last word. She ignored the blazing gaze of the woman, too busy listening to the address her father was giving her. Without much of a goodbye, she clicked off and made her way to the restaurant.

*****

She would have loved to paint her Kurt Anders' features the moment she saw him, but she was just not in the mood. He was not his usual confident self right now. He looked like he was almost scared and that was the reason why she would have loved to put that face on canvas—but no time to think about that now because she was too furious at the old man. Cassandra stormed across the restaurant, her face fuming in anger. As she made her way to where her father stood before a white clothed table with wine glasses, she deliberated whether she should give herself into the earlier urge to claw on his face.

Of course, she didn't. He was old and fragile and perspiring a lot it would be a crime to dig her fingernails into his wrinkled skin. Her father's gray-blue eyes which looked exactly like hers stared at her anxiously as she stopped outside his personal space, arms crossed over her chest.

She tapped her booted foot on the floor twice and waited for an explanation, not bothering to verbally demand it.

"Darling, let's sit down first." Kurt Anders motioned at the chair beside her. She looked around and saw that some customers were looking at them curiously, their utensils halfway through their mouths. Still glaring, she felt for the chair and sat down stiffly. Her father did the same. "What would you like to eat?"

"Why? You'll hand me as payment for food?" She saw him flinch with her comment and she almost regretted it. Tucking her blond tresses behind one ear, she tried to calm herself.

"Cassy, darling, please understand—"

"I'm trying to understand, dad, but I just can't," she snapped at him. "How can you do that to me, your own daughter? Why?"

"I am desperate!" he said, holding up his hand, "And Philip was kind enough to help me when no other people would! And..." his voice started to falter and Cassandra thought that he was hiding something. "Cassy, just do this for me, please."

Anger rose up her throat again. "Philip Strindberg is kind? How is that kind, dad? He asked for your own daughter and you gladly consented? Oh god, I thought mom was nuts—but you?" she shook her head in disbelief.

Her father opened his mouth to say something but he closed it again. He looked desperate and she wanted to demand for the truth he was hiding. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. "Darling, just listen to me. It's only for six months. And why don't you try it? You wanted to get married two years ago, right? Why not now?"

She gaped, not so sure if she was actually talking to her own father. "I can't believe this. Is this about what happened two years ago? That's it, isn't it? Did mom talk you into this?"

"No, but it is part of the reason—"

"Goddammit, dad, you don't have the right to marry me off just because of what happened two years ago!" She waved her hand for emphasis.

Her father closed his eyes as he took in her words. A small part of her could feel something was not right here but she couldn't point it out. Her father wouldn't be that stupid to give her away for some money because whichever way you would look at it, it was just completely illegal.

"Look what you've been doing since then! Your mother and I can't see that you're actually living a life with the way you're going through it right now. Philip might be the answer. He's a good man—"

"You mean a good businessman because he was able to talk you into giving me away as payment!"

"Consider it collateral, Cassy."

"This is still very illegal whatever term you use! Or is there something else that you are not telling me?"

Her father's eyes flickered in panic for a moment but he recovered and said, "Darling, just listen for a second, okay? I did it to save our company. It's your own future."

"Don't try to turn this around me, dad. You did it to save your precious company and I don't want any of it."

"But someday you will."

"Yeah. Maybe. After all I paid for it!"

"Okay, I know this is absurd, but I also thought how you might feel that's why I insisted the contract only last for six months. You can get out of your marriage by the time—that is if you would still want to."

She laughed sarcastically, getting the attention of the people around them once again. "You really planned it so well, didn't you? It is just like making a strategic plan for your damn business. You knew from the start that I would not let you go in jail."

"Cassy, please, I did it for you and your mother." There it was again. The desperation. He was definitely hiding something. If there was anything in the world he cared so much about, it was her and her mother.

"Does she know about this? Did she urge you to do it?" She would not have been surprised if he said yes because that was just her mom, but he surprised her by shaking his head no. She frowned. Her father always told his wife almost everything. Why the sudden secrecy and the marriage? Not a cell in her body believed what her father had said earlier. Something must have happened. And it must have been bad.

"No, she doesn't have any idea, so please don't tell her. I want her to feel happy knowing you'll be tying the knot soon. You know how she felt about what happened two years ago."

It was in that very moment that Cassandra realized that her dad was really desperate to make ends meet when he signed the contract with Philip Strindberg. Though she would love to leave him and go as far away as she could, she knew she could never do that. Her dad had been the first person to approach her when she needed someone the most. He had been there through her grief and always was—until he signed the damn contract. Whatever his reason was, she intended to find out.

"What does Philip Strindberg really want anyway? Of all things, why me? He is not desperate to have a wife, is he?"

"He said he has his reasons. But don't worry; I made him promise that he won't force you to do anything you don't want to do once you two are married."

"Did you sign on it too?" she asked sarcastically.

Her father sighed. "No, but I take Philip's word. He's one of the people I trust the most."

"Yeah right, I believe you in that. You even trusted him with your own daughter." She knew her father was already suffering with her sarcastic remarks, but she just couldn't help it.

He reached out to hold her hand on the table and squeezed it. "You've been through a lot, Cassy, I know that. But it's been two years. It's time you move on and take a plunge. Consider this marriage with Philip as a new start. Who knows, he might be the right one—"

"Dad, in case you haven't noticed, I don't really have so much of a choice here so stop with the crap about moving on. I've moved on. In fact, I would be ready for a new start—but not this way," she snapped, but did not hold back her hand. "Okay, I'll do this not because I want to—I want you to remember that— I'm doing this to save your ass. And I know you are keeping the real reason why you suddenly signed a contract to turn me into a wife." She saw the panic in her father's eyes once again and she knew she was right. "But whatever that damn reason is, it better be worth this shit I'll be into, dad. It better be worth it."

That was enough for him and he nodded slowly, smiling faintly in relief.

"I'll go now. I need to have some time to think and get my head back together. I don't know if I am in the right century where women have gained their rights in society and family. I must have stumbled into some kind of a time warp somewhere and I might be lucky to go back to the present once I get the hell out of here." She took her hand from her father's and stood up. He made a motion to stand up, but she stopped him. "No, I don't need a lift. I want to walk."

"Will you tell your mom?" he asked with fear. She almost laughed. Knowing her mom, the old lady would jump in joy to learn that her daughter would soon tie the knot whatever the reason may be.

"No, dad, I'm not telling mom. Because I want you to suffer just a little bit knowing you're hiding a little dirty secret from her. It's close enough to prison as you can get. Forgive me for thinking that way, but I'm still angry for a lot of reasons and one of them is the fact that you cannot trust me with the truth. Instead, you chose to do the most horrendous thing to solve whatever problem you have. I hope you understand at least that. But no worries, I'm not running away. I'll be in that wedding so no need to check on me. See you there. And tell mom not to bother inviting any of my friends. None at all." With that, she turned and walked out the restaurant. She didn't want to look back, knowing she'd see the hurt on his face. But she was hurting inside as well, so it was fair enough.

*****

She walked down the streets of New York, feeling the breeze of the ending spring and wishing she would die and wither with the flowers by the end of the season. How wonderful would that be?

Her phone rang and vibrated inside her bag; she fumbled for it and frowned at the unregistered number appearing on the screen.

Maybe it was one of her clients. "Cassandra Anders," she answered.

"This is Philip Strindberg," the oh-so-familiar voice said from the other side.

"Oh, great, my future six-month husband," she said dryly. "To what do I owe the honor of this call?" At the back of her mind, Cassandra was asking, What fucking secret are you hiding, Mr. Strindberg?

"Dress for dinner this evening. I'll be at your door by seven sharp. We're having dinner with my family."

"What dinner—" she did not have time to finish her question because he disconnected as soon as he said the word family.

Family.

Her face paled just a little bit. She grabbed her phone from her bag to follow the bastard's suggestion and opened Google.

Strindbergs New York, she typed and lo and behold there they were: The Strind-fucking-bergs.

Cassandra let out a mocking laugh, one mixed with horror and disbelief as she stared at her phone.

Of course she knew the Strindbergs, seen them on papers and magazines!

The face of Philip Strindberg himself was the first on Google images. There was no denying the bastard was who he said he was.

She scrolled through the countless photos of men and women in gowns posing for the photographers in different prestigious business events. The Strindbergs.

She had heard their name mentioned many times. Their status was not that of celebrities. They did not appear on reality TV shows or the likes. They were the kind of people the media simply have to mention to give a heavy weight on important events they cover.

Cassandra gulped. It did not occur to her that she would marry one of them. She stood frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, fear and anxiety running through every cell of her body when it finally dawned on her that she was marrying into one of the wealthiest families in the country.

How did her father ever managed to work with Philip Strindberg? How did his father, a man who manufactured plastics, got entangled with a family who owned countless corporations?

Her heart began to hammer against her chest as she stood frozen in the same spot. She stared at the family photo of the Strindbergs, swallowing the anxiety.

I am not ready to meet the clan yet! She shouted in her mind.