dropping my job and becoming a stripper. Maybe my stripper name could be Penelope, or Diamond, or if I'm going for something a bit more exotic - Cashmere. Yep, Cashmere definitely has a ring to it. The image of me wearing something remotely tight, preferably red, that hardly conceals my skin and grinding away next to the pole... the image doesn't stitch together in my mind. It turns pitch black like a television screen snapping off.

Then again, I clearly lacked the confidence for it.

My lower lip meets my teeth. At least it paid more than teaching ever would. My fingers contract, crumbling the letter beneath my palms and I shove it to the side not wanting to look at it again. It filled me with anxiety and nausea, it sent my stomach tumbling.

My rent was due in exactly fourteen days and payday was at the end of the month. I needed to think of something fast because clearly my landlady, Crystal - the busty old blonde crackhead wouldn't listen to my terrible excuses.

Two weeks have passed and Asterio has merely drifted into a memory. No contact, no sudden sightings and surprisingly no news about him either. He's been keeping it low-key since the reported party in SoHo with Driz. It's better this way. I can forget that the proposal ever happened and move on swiftly with my life.

The problem with moving on swiftly is that there's still some – if not all, minor details that need to be ironed out in my life. I'm a complete mess as I rush about my flat, looking for my black heels and watch that I abandoned on my coffee table the other night. I clasp the buckle on before my eyes land on my book that I was reading the other night.

I decided to catch up on Great Expectations for my upper classes as I was delving into the hefty book in a few weeks. I pick it up, carelessly gathering the book underneath it as well and shove it into my purse.

With ten minutes left to spare, I zoom out, locking the flat door behind me and stumbling over my untied shoe strap. I hope the morning went alright today.

"Bye Miss," smiles Christian existing the class.

"Bye Miss, have a good one,"

"Hav'a nice weekend, miss." the streams of goodbyes are endless from each student as they pass by. I wave out each one until I'm left alone, messaging my temple from an oncoming headache. Today's classes have been brutal - constant chattering, constant screaming, on-line cracking of jokes, throwing pens across the classroom. Quite frankly, I'm frazzled. Not surprised I lost my temper half-way through and yelled at them.

Burying my face into my palms, the exhausted groan slips through. I still have marking sheets, mock prepping and not to mention next week's lesson plan that needed to be sent to the department head. To make matters worse, next week either Jeremiah and I would get promoted. I couldn't stop the momentum now.

The ringing of a phone drags me out of my head. I reach underneath the table, beginning to search inside the influx of the phone. The screen lights up and I examine the caller ID before answering.

"Hola, abuela," she picks up on the moppy tone immediately, her voice soothing.

"Qué pasa?" my eyes glaze over the books I shoved in my purse earlier and I take them out, setting them on the desk. Before leaning over and beginning to narrate Abuela my morning.

"It's okay, you'll be with me over the weekend and you can relax all you want." The comment from her warms my heart and brings a small smile to my lips.

She's right. I just have endured the end of the today and on the weekend, I'll be three hours away from London. Away from the noise, the pollution and the constant chaos. We laugh and trade jokes to another before she goes quiet.

"Bella." she says. I bite my lip, already knowing what's coming. She became the bearer of bad news if my lone name fused upon her tongue.

"Hm?"

"Another cheque came through the post."

"Burn it." It's official. I'm crazy. I could use the money to stabilize my funding for next week, maybe lock in my account for other scenarios like this. But nope, I had sworn an oath to never take charity from him.

Abuela begins, trying to convince me like she always does. Her voice sweet, laced with urgent accord and lull. It drives me sick to the stomach, then sad because she only wants to see me happy. I don't blame her, Abuela is the only family I have left. "Listen, I have to go. I've got a department meeting in five minutes," with that, I end the call. I'm breaking her fragile heart by treating her like this but hearing about the cheques boils my blood white.

I let out a breath, a small mutter for strength. My eyes fall to the books I set out. I still needed to read all of it by Monday. If I didn't know the story how was I supposed to teach it, reflect on it, and criticise the characters? My eyes catch a layer of white wedged between the books. I slowly remove the first book off and my heart drops.

Somehow Asterio can't seem to unbind from me. It was the tissue he wrote his digits on and they stared at me tauntingly.

I would never accept the cheques that Abuela has been hoarding for me but Asterio's money on the other hand. NO– how could I think such a thing?

The week was tight, I had to pay Crystal. She would not take my "bullshit" excuse over her rent being due. I need the money, I need the money. I need–Then without another thought, I'm dialling the number in and holding my breath.

It only takes one ring. One ring for his husky voice to answer with a grin. He's already won this. "Bella, I'm delighted you've decided to ring me."

______________________________

I've stooped to the lowest of the lowest. I'm sure there will be a special place in hell written . The devil hasn't taken his gaze off me since I sat down. The conference room is large enough to seat twelve people, glass panels, a projector facing a blank screen and branded water bottles decorate the large room.

On the side, sits Nav - Dimitri's cool hotshot lawyer whose resume is filled with Oxford achievements for someone that young. No doubt. He's the type of guy Dimitri will trust with his life and he will uphold it because he pays him a shit ton. Not to mention, Nav's the type of dude to get hit on from all the ladies and invited to A-list events. Wicked bonus.

"Nav has already set up a contract." Dimitri begins. "–we both discuss the terms and conditions and if there's something you don't agree with, you let me know. Clear?"

"Clear."

His lips slowly turn upwards. He's enjoying this far too much. Nav pushes two sheets of stapled paper towards us. There's probably about six or so sheets attached with tiny writing and clauses that legally bind me but will haunt me forever now.

Nav chips in, "Firstly this is a non-disclosure agreement. The parties signing the agreement agree that sensitive information they may obtain will not be made available to any one else which include friends, family, associates or anyone else." He stresses. "If you break or breach the terms of this non-disclosure agreement, the following remedies may be sought against you. You will be sued, Miss Romero. I hope that is clear."

For a second, I imagine me taking a hold of the fountain pen and signing my name down. Me walking down the aisle, Dimitri looking dapper as ever then me blurting out it's all fake. Dimitri's face is filled with annoyance - a permanent scowl, the cameras are blinding then suddenly in court being sued for blurting out the now sinful word of fake. I snap out and shudder. I never want to have that fate.

Asterio vs Romero? I would never win the case.

Against my screaming mind, declaring this a terrible idea, I nod. There's a lump in my throat. The temperature is soaring. What am I doing here?

Dimitri begins, taking the floor of the conversation as Nav has cleared up the rules. "Firstly, I'd like Miss Romero to have a separate account opened." he addresses Nav. Nav begins work right away, his hands punching away on his Macbook. "Preferably under Asterio Bank Limited." I blink, he owns a bank? Since when? "The funds and monthly payment will be transferred into the account. At the beginning of the month Miss Romero will get fifty thousand transferred to her account with an added of twenty-five hundred for maintenance." My breath hitches. I can't begin to start calculating the total.

"Maintenance?"

Dimitri turns his head slightly in my direction, passing me a sharp nod. "Maintenance. Clothes, jewellery, makeup, petrol. Miscellaneous items that you need." He continues ironing out the finer details of the whole fiasco. Hm, maybe this isn't such a bad idea. I can pay back my student loan, quit my job, move away to some remote island that's far away from human contact and start selling paintings for a living.

Banksy and Van Gogh, here I come.

"From Monday onwards, you and I will spend exactly three hours with each other. We need to make this believable as possible. Restaurant outings, charity galas. The media needs to be buzzing about you before the ring is on your finger."

"Three hours? Everyday?" I shake my head. "Can't do that. I have a job, kids to teach, staff meetings. I cannot dedicate three hours every night."

With no argument, he simply tells Nav to cancel it. "Redact it." Nav's finger touches the spacebar, backmarking the whole clause.

"When are you available then?"

"Weekends."

His lips press together, he's thinking. "I don't mind spending the whole day with you on the weekend. You can plan accordingly for them." I'm baffled. I'm even agreeing to this. Without another word from Dimitri, Nav's fast on his fingers already changing the clause. Guess he knows Dimitri better than himself.

"Fine," he huffs. "The wedding now." My throat is closing up, it's parched and I barely gulp down my anxiety. Right, the proposal, the wedding, the legal binding. I had forgotten all about that. "We will be married in two months. The tiny wedding details, planning and etcetera can be dealt with later. Before then you are required to move in with me an–"

"What?" I snap my head up, blinking at him a few times.

He raises his eyebrow, leaning back on his chair, the pen rolling between his fingers. "Is there a problem? It's written in the contract, Bella." His face tightens, his jaw locking. He's probably thinking I'm incompetent and unable to even the finer details of the contract. In my defence, I was only down the third clause when he decided to drop that surprise news-bomb on me.

I flick over the pages, the words merely a jumble of long passages in front of me. Nope, I'd need more than thirty seconds to reread and digest it all.

"I don't think there's any reason for that." I protest, biting the inside of my cheek. Nav's fingers halt, his eyebrow rising along with his head slowly rising up galancing between us both. I'm correct, there is no reason for me to move in with him. Just the thought of being in the same house as Dimitri is sending goosebumps rising across my arms. I prefer being alone and living alone as a matter of fact.

Deep down, I know that's not the reason why I strongly disagree with this part of the clause.

"There's a reason the contract requires you to move in," his finger points down at the passage. He's going CEO on me, all the authority in his court. "The media will be swarming all over us, we will be mirco analysed and two months until we get married? It seems ridiculous. For us to successfully convince the media that we are truly in love. Moving in with me shows your dedication to the relationship and commitment to one another." he waits for me to speak and when discovered I have nothing to say and completely agree with his words.

He motions Nav, his fingers light over the keyboard again, the sound swinging back and forth between Dimitri and I.

I resent the fact he's absolutely right. Me moving in will make this whole sham believe. "The contract will run for exactly 18 months. After that, the contract will have run its course and we will be divorced."

Divorced. It stung. I don't say anything.

Hm, travelling to work in the morning and then coming back 'home' to Dimitri. Work?

"Do I still get to keep my job?" my voice comes out alarmed. My job and the kids were the best thing in the world and if it came to choosing between this and my job. I would hands down choose my job. Screw the paperwork, screw the agreement, screw all of it.

He's surprised, "Do you want to?"

I nodd, on edge if he's going to tell me to quit. I'm bracing myself, nails digging into my palm. "Your job is not a concern nor a place for my opinion. It's your livelihood, you do you Isabella." I visibly sigh a breath.

Him and Nav have busied themselves in discussing something that sounds like gibberish to my ears. The contract may be lengthy and long but it fucking makes sense. Maybe in another life he was a criminal, a scammer, a politician and he's used to signing all these NDA's. My eyes flick over his face, his eyes are trained in the distance, debating over something Nav has said.

Something I didn't catch but I don't deem it as important. Dimitri Asterio, the man I do not know. The man I'm supposed to marry. "I have a few conditions too." I blurt out. Nav and Dimitri both gaze at me, waiting for me to elaborate further.

The pen twists in my hands, "I want to know the real you. I want to know what exactly I'm getting myself into before I sign anything."

Dimitri's gaze flicks over to Nav. "Do you mind stepping out to give Miss Romero and I some privacy. Ten minutes." Nav gives a sharp nod, pushing his chair back and reaching for the door. His eyes are locked on mine the entire time as Nav's footsteps echo and finally the door opens and closes shut.

"I'm guessing Wikipedia didn't suffice." he says once we are alone. There's a tinge of humour in his tone.

I shrug. "I was banned from using Wikipedia in secondary, it's not a reliable source of information. Especially when it came to research papers. It's blasphemy. And if I want real answers, why not ask the source itself." His lips turn at the response. Nope, it's not a lie. I've never searched for him on Wikipedia. I wasn't interested before.

"No, it didn't," I muse out.

"What would you like to know?" he reaches over, adjusting his cufflinks.

"What's your favourite colour? What did you study? Birthday? I don't even know your birthday." I pinch my nose bridge, an exasperated sigh exasping. This was stressing me out. Wasn't he feeling the same? I'm about to marry a man who's practically a stranger to me.

He chuckles back a laughter, clearly amused by my frustration. "My favourite colour is black."

"Why am I not surprised?" I contain an eye roll. Bland, basic, boring. He grins at the remark, shrugging. "Black goes with everything."

"Please don't tell me most of your wardrobe is filled with black clothes. Ready to rob a bank in daylight."

"It is, but I seperate the colours out. C'mon, I think I look good in black." He was right, he did. He wore a white t-shirt, black blazer and his tie was missing. The slight peaking of his chest is tanned against the block colours.

"What's yours?"

"Pink."

"Very girly. Why?"

My chest inflates before answering, "My mother told me I looked good in it. She said it suited my skin tone." In most of my childhood pictures, I'm seen supporting the colour with a matching bow to match. Mama would tie a pink ribbon in her hair too, no matter the colour she was wearing. It was our gesture of affection, something like a small promise to each other.

"It's more of a dark rose pink," I say before clamping my lips shut. I didn't know why I had the need to tell him the exact shade.

He's about to say something but I cut him off sharply, not wanting to dwell on the fleeting memory longer. "Oxford?"

"No, Cambridge. Class of 2014, First class in Economics." I expected nothing less. He seems every inch of the type. Rich, privileged - exactly the material Oxbridge is after. Hm, I graduated a year after him from Warwick.

"What did you hate the most? Macro or Micro?" From personal experience back in Sixth Form, Marco was always a pain in the ass. "Macro. Couldn't stand it. The statistics module drove me up the wall."

"Post-grad?" This feels like an interview.

"None, I started working and was given the business." Of course, just like everything else on a silver spoon.

"Birthday?"

"C'mon, you could've wiki'd that." He says smugly, the humour evident. "It's the 31st December." he supplies, the smirk refusing to leave his lips.

"New Year's eve," My eyebrow arches at the news. He's a capricorn. I gaze at him a little longer and yep, he's the incarnation of his star sign. Ambitious having amassed a self-made billionaire status and having studied at Cambridge. Organized, considering his office aesthetic is grey, white and bland.

Pratitcal, goal-oriented and striving to reach high career positions which he obviously has, being the main man in his business. For him, it's power over pleasure. "How does it feel to share your birthday with the last day of the year?"

"Fantastic," he mutters sarcastically. "I'm usually hung over from my birthday and New year's eve. Double celebration. I like to imagine that everyone is celebrating me," The comment pulls my lips. Surprise. I'm actually smiling at him.

"Yours?"

"2nd July." Nav enters, frazzling the interview there. Although the conversation was seemingly innocent and darting, we have an unspoken agreement to stop it there. It doesn't help, I'm left knowing absolutely nothing about him than before. Maybe I should pop on Wikipedia.

We spend the next hour discussing even more details. Availability, finance, living situation, media articles. By the end of it, my brain is fried and all I want to do is sleep away tonight. Nav's reprinted the document with the changes and it lies in front of me, tucked safely in an A4 brown letter.

"I would like a couple of days to think about this. Is that okay? Reread over the contract, think of anything else that I need to add."

Dimitri and Nav stare at each other. What? Were they really expecting me to sign it blindly right here, right now without micro analysing every detail and scanning it intricately underneath a microscope?

They've got me figured wrong. It's a silent conversation between both of them before Dimitri gives Nav a nod as some sort of confirmation. He follows that with shutting his laptop shut and tucking his hands underneath his chin.

"That's fine, Isabella. Call me by the end of the week with your final decision." The three of us stand. I shake Nav's hand and we exchange goodbyes and then Dimitri's leading me out.

The elevator ride is surprisingly silent, palpable tension and uncertainty engulfing us. His hand touches the small of my back, guiding me out of the elevator. The Wall Street buzz immediately silences as he steps out. It's 6 PM now, the sky has blackened dark blue.

The weather is relatively chilly and cloudy, making me draw the overcoat and envelope closer to my chest. Dimitri and I walk in silence, everyone makes way. They're scrambling, mutterings of evening coming his way and not to mention, people raise their eyebrows with confusion and surprise when they notice Asterio's got his arm sling around my waist. He even takes the time of his precious schedule to walk me to my car.