Contracted to a crippled Billionaire

Elizabeth

The evening next day came too soon and I stood before the full-length mirror, observing my outfit. The black gown was just a little above my knees. The quality of the dress reflected my broken bank account.

A hiss fled from my lips as I took off the gown. Mr. Adiaga had sent the location and it was one of the biggest restaurants in Manhattan. It was known for its luxury, I doubt they would let me pass through looking like this.

A knock on the door punched the silence and my chest tightened as I gazed at the door.

My heart raced as thought of it being the loan shark.

The knock came in again and my heartbeat doubled, panic twisting my stomach.

Knowing if they broke down the door, my fate might be much worse, I trudged towards the door, my joint as rigid as a worn-out machine.

As I opened the door my eyes fell on a middle-aged woman. Faint wrinkle lines had dominated her face and hands. “Mr. Adiaga sent me to prepare you for the date.”

As soon as the woman walked in, three ladies trailed behind, carrying heavy boxes. They placed them on the sofa and pulled out different dresses, makeup, and jewelry.

“What the hell is going on?” My eyes swept across the sitting room, taking in the luxurious items on my sofa.

“Well, There’s no way you are sitting before Mr. Adiaga,” she said, eyeing me. “Wearing this filth.” She turned to the ladies. “Girl fix her.”

And like little minions, they approached me. One that placed the dress on my body. “This doesn’t match your eye color.”

Another came close, her excessive fragrance stinging my nose. “This lipstick is perfect.”

After a while, I stood before the full-length mirror, dressed in a full-length body-hugging red gown that exposed my back. My face was covered in subtle but beautiful makeup and on my neck rested a diamond necklace.

I could barely recognize the lady in the mirror. Something felt wrong, like I wasn’t deserving of this.

My hands trailed the necklace, my eyes still fixed on my reflection in the mirror. “I can’t wear this,” I said, “it’s too expensive.”

The woman shot me a glacial look. “Why do poor people pray for luxury and when they get it, they toss it.” She snorted and brought out a perfume. Spraying it on me, she continued. “Mr. Adiaga can’t be seen having dinner with an impoverished-looking woman. He is not doing this for you, but for his reputation.”

It was hard to feel at ease, not when he said he wanted something from me. I still had no idea what a wealthy man wanted from a woman like me. I doubt it was just for my body, as he should have been able to have women prettier than me, richer and sexier.

With a deep inhale and sharp exhale, I trod out of my apartment. My eyes fell on a sleek black Mercedes car outside. The driver stepped out and opened the car door. After I entered the car, the driver shut the door and drove off.

.

.

After a twenty-minute drive, I arrived at the restaurant. My heel clinked against the pavement as I strutted towards the entrance—two double glass doors.

Inside, The air was laden with affluence, from the large golden chandelier to the black-marbled tile floor. The expensive art that hung on the white panel walls.

My eyes fell on Mr. Adiaga sitting on the east end corner. Mr. Adiaga was dressed in a black dress shirt. His sleeves rolled up, exposing his veiny hands. His gaze fixed outside the expansive window.

“Good evening.” I settled in the seat across from him.

His brown eyes lingered on me as his lips curled up into a smile. “Good evening. You look beautiful.”

Despite the knots in my stomach, his compliment still managed to stir a warmth in me.

But I wasn’t going to let that warmth control me. “What do you want from me?” My face contorted into a soft frown.

Mr. Adiaga smacked his lips. “Not the patient type I see.” He gestured for a waitress to come over and when she did. He picked up the menu and turned to me. “What would you like to have?”

The frown was still etched on my face like it was a part of my makeup. “I didn’t come here to eat Mr. Adiaga.” As my stomach tightened, I doubted if there was any space for food.

“Alright then.” He turned back to the waitress. “Let’s have red wine. Bring the most expensive one you have.”

“Alright.” She said, as she flashed a polite smile, before disappearing into the inner interiors of the restaurant.

Mr. Adiaga's gaze returned to me. “Let’s wait for the wine. Such conversations are best held with a red wine.”

The waitress returned with a bottle of wine. Tilting the bottle, the red wine streamed into my glass. The fruity undertone lined the air.

“Thank you.” I picked up the wine and sipped it. The alcohol taste—much stronger than its scent—coated my tongue.

After he drunk from his wine, he placed it on the table with a soft thud. “I want to propose a deal.” He leaned forward. “A contract marriage. I’d pay off all your debt for your hands in marriage.” A devil’s grin played on his lips and his eyes sparkled as though he had set a trap for me.

My eyes widened. The fruity taste of the wine turned stale on my tongue.

What did this man take me for? Was it because I was poor, he believed I could easily sell my freedom to him?

I tightened my fist. The chair creaked and his eyes followed me as I rose to my feet. “Do you think I am that desperate?” My voice was quieter than I intended. “That I’d sell myself to pay off a debt?”

Sitting before me was a monster as his grin only widened. “I see you are also a proud one.” He swirled his wine glass before sipping from it. “Pride without money to back it up will only plunge you into despair.”

“Thank you, Socrates, I can help myself.”

A frown replaced the smiling expression as he leaned back. “I’m sorry if my kind gestures made you feel like you have an upper hand here.” He leaned in. “Do you have any means of paying off the loan shark? The interest is constantly rising. How are you going to pay off my $500,000?” He took another sip, as though my predicament was entertaining. “Even if your aunty sells her tiny cafe, she won’t still be able to pay your debt.”

His words punched my guts and my heart wailed.

“I suggest you sit and think about my proposal.”

After the tragic loss of my parents, my aunt trained and loved me as her own. Sacrificing all the beauty of life, so I could go to college and become somebody in life. I couldn’t allow her to sell her cafe to pay off my debt.

“I’d think about your proposal and I’d give my response tomorrow.”

“See, Ms. Elizabeth. To a man like me, I can always replace money lost, but never time. You have thirty seconds to make the decision or the deal is off the table.” His fingers tapped on the table, each thud sounding like a ticking bomb.

“There’s no way I can accept the proposal without thinking thoroughly about it.” My voice rose an octave higher and my heart thundered against my rib cage.

“Twenty seconds more.” His cold voice drilled into my ears, chilling my core.

I hadn’t even read the proposal. But then images of my aunty flashed into my mind. She loved her small cafe shop as that was the only dream she could achieve all because she took me in.

“Ten seconds more, Elizabeth.”

Time wasn’t on my side. I couldn’t find the calmness to think. Beads of sweat carpeted my face

“5…4…3…2…”

Each number instilled more panic in me, drowning me in the deep blue sea with no straw to clutch at