Chapter 4 - Sealed and Delivered
1025 Words
Sophia's POV
I get back to my tiny apartment in a not so envious area of London that I can afford living in, and the first thing I do after unlocking the door is remove the shoes that have been giving me a backache ever since I've put them on.
My kitchen counter is packed with interest bills of my father's debts that I've slowly been repaying. I walk to my laptop and open crypto market to check what's been going on today. I've earned $300.000 so far just by trading. I've earned another $600,000 via my small startup company that makes apps for entertainment. Yet it still doesn't cover a quarter of my debts that keep on piling up.
I check the time. 1 AM.
I better go to bed. I need to be at the Palace tomorrow at 6am. And then at the accounting company I work for at 9. I can't remember the last time I felt well-rested. I was probably still in high school.
It's not that I'd love long vacations and doing nothing, but the stress of my mortgage is definitely taking its toll on my physical and mental health.
It'd be nice to just be able to start fresh. Do my own mistakes. Not have to correct somebody else's from day one. I earn way above the average, but need to live way under, just because all my earnings get sucked in by the banks.
Just as I get up to go to the bedroom, my door buzzer rings.
I startle - I'm not expecting anyone.
I walk over to it and pick up the intercom - I don't have a door camera.
"Hello?" is all I say.
"It's me," the words come swiftly and I instantly recognize the cold voice behind them. Christopher.
Silence ensues for a few seconds. What's he doing here?
"Care to buzz me in, m'lady?" he chuckles to himself. He's obviously dead drunk. He's already been wasted at the wedding party, and he was still drinking as I left.
"What are you doing, Christopher?" I ask with no humor attached.
He chuckles from the back of his throat. "Do you sound scared to yourself, too or am I sadly mistaken?"
Oh, no, he won't. I won't give him the pleasure.
I buzz him in without a word.
I hear him laugh quietly just before I put the phone down.
It takes him ages to get to my door, though.
When he finally does, I'm already leaning on my doorframe, yawning theatrically. "Do you need help, sweetie?" I cross my arms, my chin lifted high. "It's only two floors up."
"I was... looking for an elevator for five minutes," he purses his lips as he makes his last clumsy step up the stairs.
"Mm, what a brilliant mind of our future leader," I tease.
"And what an astonishing residence of the future queen," he then basically stumbles into my apartment, almost knocking himself off his feet.
I throw my hands in disbelief. "Make yourself at home," I say shutting the door.
He immediately finds a sofa to collapse on, then crosses his fingers, staring at my cheap carpet.
I take a seat opposite of him, my legs curled beneath me as I wait for what he has to say. But he's not saying a word.
I inhale and exhale once deeply, already tired as hell. "Please do share what you're here for before I get knocked out."
He then catches my gaze, pursing his masculine lips. "I talked to my father," he nods to himself, then immediately shakes his head, "He definitely wasn't joking about the engagement."
"No," I confirm. "He wasn't." I have a check to confirm it.
"I've been doing some calculations in my head ever since," he says dead serious, "how to get you the money you need..."
I raise my eyebrows, now interested. Getting the money to pay off my debts without having to marry him? Sounds too good to be true.
"Then I realized..." he shakes his head, "my father would just find another woman for me to marry."
Yep, I press my lips. I knew it sounded too good to be true.
"So I figured..." he leans in a little, "why not use this opportunity I have? And make an arrangement with you? We both continue to lead our separate lives in secrecy. But on the outside... we'll be a happily married couple."
I pompously lick my lower lip, frowning. "You mean do exactly what I suggested?"
He stares at me in competition.
"No," he finally speaks again. "Not exactly like you suggested. I will ask questions. I need to know what you're doing."
I narrow my eyes a little out of curiosity. "Why?"
He laughs. "It ain't jealousy," he says. "Trust me. Call it... ego. If, and I say if you're going to be my wife, I need to know you ain't making a fool out of me."
"In public," I add.
He nods in agreement. "Yes."
I exhale once again.
"Deal."
He watches me for a few seconds in silence.
"You're also allowed to ask questions, of course" he adds now more calm. "I'm not some misogynist..."
I shake my head, interrupting him. "No need. I don't care," I say. "As long as my debts are cleared."
He watches me intensely now. "You do know we'll never be allowed to divorce, don't you?"
"I do."
He narrows his eyes in suspicion. "And you're doing this only to get rid of your debt?"
Not only. But I'll never share that with you.
"I'll lose my apartment next year if I don't come up with something absolutely lucrative by the end of this year," I shrug. "And I ain't exactly street material."
He watches me with a different expression now, but I can't tell what it is - I don't know him well enough.
"Fine," he finally decides to stand up. "It's settled, then," he reaches his hand to me.
I only gaze at it for a second, knowing I'm sealing my destiny at the very moment.
Then I shake his hand.
"You have my word."
- Writer
