Marrying Into the Family of My Fiancé's Killer

The Arrangement I am sitting face to face with him in his dining room. I’m on one end of the long dining table and him on the other. I watch silently as he sips on his coffee, eyes diverted away from me as he gives me the time I need before I can give him the long-awaited answers to his proposition, though I am now more interested in studying the features of his face rather than considering what I am going to say to him. He puts his cup of coffee down with an audible sigh, before lifting his gaze towards my body. His eyes bearing daggers into mine as he speaks out, “Have you decided yet?” I open my lips to answer, yet I can’t think of anything to say. His voice may be gentle as he spoke, but it is how he drags on his speech that is intimidating enough to have me lost for words. I already had the answers in my mind the moment I sat there in my seat one hour ago, ever since we both had our dinner with a lack of conversations at that table. But now, after the empty plates along with the leftovers had been taken away and replaced by two cups of hot beverages―with an addition of a folder of files on my side―I can feel every determination I previously had drifting away and being replaced with doubts. I clear my throat, before carefully letting my words pass through my lips. “I... Yes, I have,” I speak out softly, “Forgive me for taking so long to make a decision, but I needed some time to be sure.” “To be sure of what, exactly?” I keep silent as I list down the answers to the question he has just given me. A lot of things have come into my consideration during the past few weeks. One, is the condition that brought me here. And two, the future that is written on the papers lying before me. My eyes are locked on the man, continuing to study him silently as he sits there. Waiting. Trailing my eyes over him, I take my time taking in the sight of his figure and how he is sitting there with so much confidence emitting through him. How his cold gaze locked on my nervous body, unnerving. His fingers lay above the table, with his palms hovering above the shiny wooden top. The color of his skin appears in contrast to the finished wood beneath them. It is not his gaze nor his cold demeanor that sends shivers through my body as I sit there facing him. It is the man himself, the aura that he emits even when he lets dreadful silence fill the room, accompanying the both of us for the last hour. It is his own presence in the room, dominating without having to even move a single finger. Because he is a Sullivan. Noah Sullivan. The second son of the Sullivan family's empire, and now the sole heir of the company and the wealth that his grandfather had built for so many years. The right that belongs to him after the huge fallout caused by his older brother, the firstborn and the initial heir, only a few years prior to our meeting where he gave me his proposition. It was the case that caused a huge uproar within the country, and also caused the firstborn to lose the right of carrying the title of the heir for SLV Holdings, to then have the title passed on to the second son who is now sitting with me at his dinner table. While the latter becomes the reason why I am present here, planting my palms over the papers before me, the words written over them already engraved in my thoughts as my mind slowly registers to the deal he is giving me. “I just needed to make sure that you and I are completely in the same boat in this matter. That everything will not be... well, messy.” He scoffs at my words, a smirk appears as he chuckles. “I already told you the day I laid out the deal. I prefer things to be neat and accordingly. Why else do you think I chose you for the arrangement?” “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me,” I answer him before pulling my bottom lip beneath my teeth. “Why me? I know I’d never asked before, even though I probably should have, but I still can't understand why you chose me for this.” He keeps his smirk as he leans forward, resting his chin on his crossed wrists with his elbows planted on the table. “I have dealt with women over the years, and from my long hard experience, I’d learned that once a man is involved with a woman there will always be two opted consequences,” he stops to exhale a sigh, licking his bottom lip before he continues, “The first part would be how women always take it to the heart. Everything always becomes so personal, and they would act upon their heart instead of logic. Hopeful. And that's where things get messy. Second, after experiencing first hand on dealing with two-faced people in my line of work, I can always tell when people come for me with their eyes―and their minds―simply on the prize. Their greed over money and status puts me down. I’ve spent enough time handling hypocrites at the company and in my own personal life, I don't need to waste more of my time and energy facing them under my own roof.” “Is that what happened with your ex-girlfriend?” He scoffs, leaning back in his seat for a quick breath, never a second trailing his eyes away from me as if he is reading through me without letting me see any of his emotion or thoughts. “Perhaps you can say that,” he answers, lifting his cup to take a sip of the warm liquid, but not before he speaks out, “I hope my past love life won't be a problem for you.” I nibble my bottom lip between my teeth, releasing them only after I let his words sink in. “No, of course not. I don't think I would have any need to dwell on your past escapades. Just as long as they don't suddenly try to meddle with the current,” I finally answer him. And it is the truth. I won't be having any trouble dealing with his past, not when I also have my own past shadowing me. “But what makes you think you won't be having the same mess with me? I am merely a woman, after all.” He lifts his eyes to look at me, with a gaze that is piercing through as if I had just told him something so ridiculous, one thought that was shown by how he raises one eyebrow and shows off a smirk behind the cup which he is holding up to hover his lips. He lowers the cup back to its coaster, moving his tongue over his bottom lip to swipe away the moistening sweet liquid that just pass through them. “Well, my dear―” he chuckles, “We both know that we have moved past the first subject. You and I both know it won't be much of a problem anytime sooner. But even so, if one day that changes, then I won't mind at all.” The smirk he gives as he answers me only causes my heart to skip a beat, and I have to blink out my eye to distract myself from the blush creeping on my cheeks. “And for the second matter―” he continues, “For the many years we've known each other, I know for sure you are not one with greed over material things. And you are a woman with a purpose, especially in this win-win situation. You’ll win something out of this as much as I do, probably more on my behalf.” And once again, he is right. I flattened my palms over the files before me, looking down towards them to read out the words printed in black paint.