Contract marriage with an A-list billionaire

An unexpected part

*Nina*

I awaken to the gentle glow of morning light filtering through the curtains, stretching languidly while savoring the cool, soft embrace of the luxurious bed. Yet, as I open my eyes fully, a wave of realization washes over me… I am very much alone in this sumptuous haven. I rise, a heavy, satisfied feeling lingering in my body, remnants of a night filled with unforgettable passion.

I step out onto the deck, where I’m greeted by an exquisite breakfast laid out on the table, the aroma wafting toward me like a warm invitation. Next to the spread, a handwritten note catches my eye. ’Off to my meeting. The car will take you to the airport when you are ready. Best night EVER! Love Elijah.’

I pick up the small flower that is delicately attached to the card, bringing it closer to my nose. Its sweet scent fills me with a mix of emotions. Would I have preferred him to be here with me now? Definitely. But this gesture… this classy, thoughtful note… feels both sweet and bittersweet in his absence.

An hour later, I find myself seated on the private plane, heading home, my mind swirling with thoughts. Was this just a fleeting moment, or does he often whisk women away to exotic destinations for a night of unbridled passion?

I let out a soft sigh, the weight of hope and uncertainty heavy on my chest. I yearn to hear from him again, but I remind myself not to get my hopes too high. I refuse to risk the pain that often accompanies longing. If this is the end of our brief encounter, I will cherish this adventure in my heart, holding tightly to the memory of a man who felt genuine, a connection that was real… nothing like a facade or mere act.

Next evening:

I sniff the coke on the table, breathing out hard as I pick up my phone. I stare at it for a moment, frustration bubbling inside me, before throwing it down in despair. “Where the hell are you, you asshole?”

Walking over to the balcony doors, I gaze out at the pouring rain, allowing soft sniffles to escape me. I try to let my face mirror the turmoil I feel, reflecting the stormy world outside.

“Cut! Good!” The director calls out, his voice slicing through the tension as he begins discussing the next shot with his crew.

A producer’s assistant approaches, smiling warmly. “We’re going to do some close-ups of the coke for inserts, so you can step out and take a break.”

“Thanks,” I reply, mustering a smile, as the wardrobe assistant drapes a robe around me, my lingerie peeking out beneath it. I offer her a grateful smile too. “Thank you.”

Suddenly, I hear my agent Leslie’s voice cutting through the buzz of the set. “Fat lady alert! Lady with a baby, out of my way!” She’s seven months pregnant and starting to resemble someone who swallowed a beach ball.

I look at her in surprise. Although she’s my agent, it’s unusual for her to show up on set for a single-episode role in a B-rated show. “Les, what are you doing here?”

“Well, I thought I’d waddle down to see the magic happen,” she says, staring at me with a peculiar expression. Oh, something’s definitely up. “Cloe! Hi, how are you?” She flashes a weird smile at the makeup artist hurrying by before lowering her voice. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“Sure, yeah, come here.” I lead her out to a back deck that serves as the balcony for the shot. “So, what’s going on?”

She pulls out a thick envelope, the size of it immediately catching my attention. “This was delivered to my office this morning.”

For some reason, spurred by the anxious look on her face, visions of Elijah and me together on that deck by the Mexican villa flash through my mind. Had it been as private as we thought? Panic rises in me, and I blurt out, “Oh please tell me that isn’t photos.”

“Photos?” She looks at me as if I’ve just asked the weirdest question. Then, I can literally see the light bulb turn on. “Oh sweet Jesus... you totally slept with Elijah Grant! That explains a lot.”

“Excuse me?” Confusion swirls within me, a slight embarrassment creeping in now that she knows.

She huffs out a breath. “Never mind. We’ve been presented with a bit of a situation here. I’m not going to lie, it’s unusual... a little Bollywood and really weird. It’s bollyweird.”

“What’s in the envelope?” I cut off her rambling, my curiosity piqued.

“Sit down.” She looks like she’s about to lose it.

“I don’t want to sit down, Leslie. You’re starting to freak me out here.”

“Well, I’m going to sit down because I’m about to faceplant here…” She lowers herself into a chair that has been left on the deck, holding up the envelope. “This is an offer from Elijah Grant.”

“For the movie?” I nod slightly, my mind racing. I know this is big, but she’s still overreacting just a bit. Maybe it’s those pregnancy hormones.

“Technically, no.” Leslie makes a peculiar gesture with her hand, as if attempting to communicate a secret through sign language. “It’s an offer to be... his wife.”

The shock washes over me, and I can feel my face pale. Surely, she’s joking… this is some kind of twisted prank I’m not getting. “His... WIFE?!”

“Relax. You start out as the girlfriend, and if all of that goes well, then the official proposal comes, followed by the engagement period. And then, if you want the full ten million…” She looks like she’s about to burst into a Bollywood dance routine, her excitement palpable.

“Ten million dollars?” My mind struggles to catch up with the whirlwind of information.

She nods enthusiastically. “It’s paid in installments, most of which come after the wedding. And then there’s also something about children, but that’s a second agreement. You’d also want to know what you’d get in the event of a divorce, but that part isn’t commissionable… you should keep that in mind.”

I sink into a chair, desperately trying to regain my bearings. “Leslie, this isn’t real.”

“Oh, this is very much real.” She holds up a stack of papers, the weight of them heavy with implication.

I shake my head in denial. “No... this is Elijah’s weird idea of a joke.”

“Sweetie, this is Elijah’s idea of a proposal.” She locks eyes with me, her expression serious. “He’s offering you a contract marriage.”

“Let me see this.” I reach out to grab the papers, my hands trembling slightly as I begin to read. “‘No infidelity, no drug use, approval of all my interactions with the media.’” I look up at Leslie, bewildered. “I... I don’t get this. I’ve known this guy for two days.”

“Well, you and your twenty-five-year-old v****a clearly made quite the impression on him,” she says with a casual shrug, making me want to object. She rises from her seat, concern etched on her face. “Nina, sweetie... I know this isn’t how we planned to take your career to the next level, but if you sign this contract, you’ll be free to do whatever you want.”

“No... there’s no way I’m doing this.” I fling the contract back at her, my frustration boiling over. I need some air, to clear my head and breathe away the chaos swirling around me.