A Dangerous Proposition
1280 Words
The next morning, sunlight pierced through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the unfamiliar room. My head throbbed like a drum, and my throat felt parched. Blinking away the haze of sleep, I glanced around, confusion flooding my senses. This wasn’t my room.
I sat up, clutching the sheet to my chest as the fabric slipped down, revealing bare skin. The events of the previous night blurred together, disjointed and fragmented in my memory. My stomach twisted with unease.
“Oh no... Charlotte,” I whispered to myself, the sound barely audible over the pounding in my head. I groaned, burying my face in my hands. How could I let this happen?
Then I noticed him.
A man sat on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, his dark eyes watching me with an expression I couldn’t decipher.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice smooth and measured, like he’d been waiting for me to wake up.
Panic flared through me like wildfire. “Oh my God. What... what happened last night?”
His lips curled into the faintest smirk. “Relax. You were... enthusiastic, but everything was consensual.”
Heat rushed to my face as I groaned again, wishing I could disappear. This couldn’t be happening.
“Charlotte, right?” he asked casually.
My head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “How do you know my name?”
“You told me,” he said simply. Then, after a pause, he leaned forward slightly, his tone shifting. “I have a proposition for you.”
“A proposition?” I repeated, my voice wary.
“Yes.” His gaze locked onto mine, steady and intense. “Pretend to be my girlfriend. Just for a while.”
I blinked, stunned into silence. This had to be some kind of dream. A very, very bad one.
“Pretend girlfriend? What are you even talking about?” I snapped, quickly grabbing my shirt from the floor and pulling it over my head. My only thought was to get out of this room, off this ship, and away from him.
“Don’t you want to get back at your boyfriend?” he said smoothly, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “After what he did, don’t you want to make him pay? I can help you.”
I froze. The memory of Connor’s betrayal hit me like a slap, sharp and stinging.
“In exchange,” the stranger continued, “you help me. I need to break off an arranged marriage. Prove to my family and my would-be bride that I’m already taken. Just until the cruise ends. Then we go our separate ways. No strings attached.”
I stared at him, incredulous. The sheer absurdity of his offer almost made me laugh.
“I don’t even know your name,” I said, shaking my head as if that would snap me out of this surreal situation.
“Zachary. Zachary Maxwell,” he said, his voice calm and steady, his piercing gaze locked onto mine as if daring me to look away.
Something about the way he said his name sent a shiver down my spine. His lips, full, perfectly sculpted held my attention for a beat too long. My thoughts betrayed me, flashing back to last night, to the way he made me feel. Connor had never made me feel like this. Not once.
Every logical part of me screamed to leave, to disappear into the sprawling cruise ship and never cross paths with him again. But I couldn’t bring myself to move. As much as I hated to admit it, I didn’t want to.
“Well, Zachary,” I began, forcing strength into my voice, “I’m not the person for this. I’ve got my own problems to handle, and I’ll be leaving this ship soon anyway. I can’t—”
“Running away, then?” he interrupted, his tone sharp, almost mocking. “Is that what you’re good at? Giving your lowlife ex the satisfaction of thinking he was right about you? Where’s your fight, Charlotte? Doesn’t he deserve to pay for what he did?”
His words hit me like a slap. As much as I hated him for saying it, he wasn’t wrong. Connor’s betrayal still burned, and the thought of letting him walk away without consequences gnawed at me.
Zachary’s smirk deepened as he stood, confidence radiating off him. He knew he had struck a chord. With deliberate steps, he moved closer until the space between us evaporated. His hand brushed back a loose strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear with a tenderness that made my heart race.
“You deserve better than him,” He murmured, his voice softer now, like velvet against my frazzled nerves. “So? What do you say? Let’s make him regret it. And hey,” his lips curled into a devilish grin, “we can have a little fun of our own while we’re at it.”
His words were a whispered temptation, leaving me breathless as my eyes fluttered shut for a moment. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust myself. And yet, something about Zachary Maxwell made it impossible to say no.
“No strings attached?”I repeated, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt. Could this really be as simple as he was making it sound?
“No strings attached,” he said again, his voice steady, almost too calm.
Before I could say anything else, his hands moved up, his fingers gently cupping my neck. A shock of heat rushed through me, and I froze, unable to look away. “Now, may I kiss you?” His words were a whisper, full of temptation.
My heart raced as I nodded, too stunned to form a coherent response. I had never felt more out of control, but there was something about him. Something magnetic that kept me there, in that moment.
His lips brushed mine, soft yet purposeful, and it was like everything else faded into the background. His kiss deepened, slow and measured, each touch unraveling me more than the last. It wasn’t just desire. There was something else in it, something that made me question everything I thought I knew about myself.
Just as I began to lose myself in the moment, the sharp chime of the doorbell jolted me back to reality. I pulled away, breathless, my heart pounding as Zachary reluctantly stepped back. His frustration was evident in the flicker of his eyes, but he said nothing as he turned toward the door.
Left alone for a moment, I glanced around the room, really seeing it for the first time. It was lavish, far more luxurious than the modest cabin Connor and I had booked. Questions swirled in my mind, their weight pressing down on me. Who exactly was Zachary Maxwell?
Zachary returned with a cart of food, his expression unreadable. “The ship has a game night later, with activities for everyone,” he said casually, as though we hadn’t just shared a moment that could change everything.
I tried to focus on the food, but my mind kept racing. Who was this man? Why did I feel so drawn to him, despite everything? He handed me a glass of orange juice, his smile warm, yet there was still something mysterious about it.
“Merry Christmas, Charlotte,” he said, his voice low as he leaned down to kiss me again, his lips lingering just long enough to make my heart skip a beat.
And in that moment, I realized just how far I’d fallen into this strange, dangerous game. There was no turning back now.
- Writer
