Alpha's Substitute Bride

#Chapter 2: The Contract

“Is the car really for me?” I asked, looking between the chauffeur and the shocked faces of Dora and my father. If the situation wasn’t so strange, I might’ve laughed.

The chauffeur nodded with a smile, and opened the door to the backseat beckoning me in.

I only took a few steps towards the car when Dora jumped in front of me before I could protest.

“As her sister, I should come along to oversee everything,” She smiled innocently at the chauffeur. I knew there was more to it. Her curiosity at the luxury car, no doubt.

I sunk into the leather seat beside Dora and the door shut behind me.

“He must’ve rented this to impress Father,” Dora loudly jeered as she took in the fine interior. It was far more luxurious than the cars our father drove. Considering Ethan was reportedly quite poor, I couldn’t help but silently agree with her.

For the entire ride to our destination Dora kept snapping pictures of every little detail. She scrutinized the carpet on the floor and commented on the windows not rolling up and down fast enough.

She tried to sound unimpressed by it all, but her eyes shone with greed. Perhaps if Ethan was still rich, she might take back her rejection.

As we pulled up to a grand house, far bigger than any of the houses I had ever seen before, Dora and I stepped out of the car and approached the large doors. The chauffeur invited us in, and Dora gasped at the sight.

Inside, it was beautiful. With marble floors, stark white walls, and windows that stretched from floor to ceiling.

I assumed Ethan must work here. It was much grander than someone in his position could afford.

Dora and I’s footsteps echoed in the silent corridor as we walked deeper into the villa. When we went through the archway into the living room, there was a tall broad-shouldered man facing away from us.

Dora pulled a mirror out of her ugly designer bag to check her complexion and fix her hair.

I rolled my eyes at her and coughed slightly to alert him that he was no longer alone.

The man turned around quickly. I was struck at his god-like good looks. Dora was too, I could tell by the fact that she was actually speechless for once.

He had dark brown hair that fell into his eyes just a tiny bit, and his eyes were gray like a stormy sky. He was unbelievably handsome.

“Hello, ladies?” His brow furrowed slightly as he looked between me, in my plain clothes, and Dora who was dressed like she was supposed to appear on the red carpet in ten minutes. “Which one of you is my bride?”

“I-” I squeak and have to clear my throat. “I am. Are you Ethan?”

“I am.” Ethan looked me up and down. He didn’t seem impressed by what he saw, but he shook away the thoughts and approached me.

“These are for you,” He held out a bouquet of flowers. They weren’t super extravagant, but they were pretty. Dora scoffed.

“A house like this and cheap flowers?” She laughed and gestured at his torso. “And look at what he’s wearing!”

I was so focused on his face (which was gorgeous, did I mention that?) that I hadn’t even paid attention to what sort of clothes he was wearing.

Ethan had on black sweatpants with a tight black t-shirt. Sweat dotted his brow and dampened the collar of his shirt, he looked like he just finished working out.

“He’s obviously the bodyguard!” She crooned. “All of this makes so much sense.”

Ethan just c****d his head to the side and watched her in confusion.

“If you’ll excuse me,” She carried on. “I have a very rich, handsome man waiting for me at a five-star restaurant. I have to go.” As she retreated, her cackling laugh could be heard up until she exited the house. She was all too pleased to learn that Ethan was nothing more than a poor bodyguard trying to look better off than he was.

It didn’t bother me, though. It couldn’t.

“Well,” Ethan spoke up once the two of us were alone. “How would you like to get something to eat and learn a bit about each other?”

He smiled at me as he spoke.

“I would love to, where would you like to go?” I asked. My words sounded foreign to my own ears, formal and practiced.

“Dessert.” He beamed and started walking out of the room. I followed closely behind. “There’s a great dessert place up the street. I’ve always loved their lemon bars.”     

When we got to the restaurant that he was talking about before, I recognized it immediately. I had worked there for a few years as a pastry chef, but quit once my mother’s illness became too severe.

The familiar scent of vanilla and cream flooded my nose as we walked in, and my heart ached in familiarity. It was almost like coming home. The house where I lived was never comforting or safe, but the bakery always was.

Dreams of what could have been floated through my mind and I had to fight off a frown from appearing on my face. I was so close to becoming the top pastry chef when I worked here. Another promotion or two and I would have been.

Things were so different. The entire situation sounded insane; leaving my job to take care of my mom, and leaving my home to marry a man I just met to save her.

Ethan picked a table for us in the corner. It was nice and secluded from the rest of the dining room.

“Pick whatever you want,” He said as he handed me a menu.

I glanced at the prices, remembering that everything in the store was so expensive. Which was confirmed as I read. I looked at Ethan, trying to not seem judgemental.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “It’s all so expensive, and you probably don’t make a whole lot at your job. We can go somewhere else.”

Ethan stared back at me, shocked. He must have thought I would be materialistic like Dora. I wanted him to know, especially if he was going to be my husband, I didn’t expect extravagant things. Just comfort.

“It’s alright,” He let out a small, breathy laugh. “Order what you’d like.”

I bit my bottom lip and nodded, reading over the menu once more. There was a small cake listed for eighteen dollars, it was the cheapest one I could find.

“I’ll have the single-serve carrot cake.” I told the waitress when she came over to take our orders.

Once we got our food, Ethan pulled out a folder. He placed it on the table and slid it over to me.

“What’s this?” I asked with a mouthful of carrot cake.

“A contract regarding our marriage.” He told me as I haphazardly flipped through the document. “We’ll be married in a week, I’ll handle all the details.”

I nod in agreement as he continues.

“I know that this is not something you would have agreed to under different circumstances, I feel the same way. In the contract it states that, if both parties are willing, we divorce in a year. I’ll move on with my life, and you with yours.” He clicks a pen and hands it to me. “Do you accept?”