Contract With The Millonaire.

Jack Lather.

I had survived day three of hiding from my father. Everyone in my family is obsessed with marriage, ostentatious weddings, and contracts that push you toward success hastily. After returning from Dubai, I talked to Ben about who would take over my father's business, as he has recently refused to continue with it.

Benton walks into the office, angry, and throws the papers he had in his hand onto my desk.

"I'm sick of the secretary you hired. We should fire her."

"What did she do now?"

"I asked her to bring me latex gloves, and she brought me dark coffee. You know I hate dark coffee. Damn, if only she would listen to her superiors, she would do her job much better. She's an idiot."

"Benton, you could have told her to bring you something else. People can make mistakes."

"She's been making mistakes all damn week."

"Do what you want with her, I don't care. We can find someone else."

"That's what I wanted to hear," he says with cynicism.

I've known Benton for as long as I can remember, and I know he doesn't like incompetence, especially when it comes to coffee. We've spent our lives going from party to party and from exotic places to even more exotic offices. We've never been involved in financial problems, and it's hard for me to believe that sometimes my best friend feels inferior to people.

I grab my things and leave the office with my head held high. The employees lower their heads out of respect, and I run into my father with a cigarette in his hand and the darkest sunglasses he has. That's not a good sign because when he takes them off, he smiles at me so cynically that I know what he's here for.

He wants me to get married.

He wants me to marry a woman I don't know anything about.

I indicate that we enter the office where I was just seconds ago, and he nods without responding. The man who helped bring me into the world is dominant, cold, and sometimes affectionate. I've seen him as my father since I was four years old, before that, I hated him. He spent all day telling me what to do and how to act, making me study accounting, math, physics, and commercial sciences. I was only five years old at the time. What normal child would want to know anything about that at that age? None.

I allow myself to sit on top of the desk, and he sits on the chair in front of me.

"You can't run away from your father forever, Jack."

"Mr. Lather in the office."

"I'm your father, not a poor idiot who works for you," he spits out disdainfully. I shrug and let him continue talking because he can't do what I want. "Alana is a beautiful girl, the daughter of two businesspeople. Doesn't that sound perfect to you?"

"Not really," I make a face. "Does she know anything about managing businesses?"

"No, she's a model. She's good for the family's image, and you're good for her family's image. We both win."

"I don't want to get married. I don't want to be with someone who doesn't act or think the way I do."

"Mr. Lather," he says to mock me. "It's decided. Tomorrow morning I'll sign a contract with her father. The marriage will last four years. After that, you can do whatever you want."

"Tell me you're kidding."

"Business is business," he says as he stands up, opens the door, and looks at me for the last time. "I want you at home this afternoon, you will meet your future wife."

I wait for him to leave and curse under my breath; I am furious. Who gave him the right to do something like this? I don't want to get married, I don't want to know anything about marriage, and I don't want to be told that I have to be with a super beautiful woman for the sake of my company. I haven't liked anyone more than Belinda in the last few years. And it should be noted that Belinda stopped liking me because of her insecure and self-loathing attitude. She was feeling bad most of the time.

There were days when she was fine, she could be okay for a month, a few weeks, or even a few days. Until the point where she would start feeling bad constantly again, and I got tired of it. I can't tolerate a person like that. It's not in my psychological nature to do so without being one.

I see the notifications on my phone and realize that I'm late for the parking lot. Benton and I agreed to meet at twelve downstairs; we'll go out for lunch and then head to my parent's house. Or, well, at least he knows we'll go out to eat, not that we'll be going to my parent's house.

During the summer vacation, I hooked up with several girls, some prettier than others. I made each of them sign a confidentiality agreement that specifies that if they get pregnant, they won't contact me, let alone talk about me being the father. To my luck, no one objected to those rules, and I had a great time with each of them.

I see Benton with the same secretary from before, and I freeze when they kiss. It's not a gentle or common kiss; it seems more like something forced. And I smile.

"Am I interrupting?"

Both of them clear their throats and shake their heads. The girl runs away, and I burst out laughing at the sight of my friend fixing his pants.

"You're an asshole, you could have waited."

"Wait? One of your whores isn't going to make me wait. We have to go to my father's house; we have dinner with them and my fiancée."

Benton looks at me seriously and shakes his head, confused.

"Fiancée?"

"Didn't I tell you?" I pretend that I've known Alana for a long time, and my friend shakes his head even more confused than before. "I'm getting married; she's a beautiful girl."

"Your father is going to marry you."

I scoff, and he clicks his tongue knowing that he hit the nail on the head.

"I know, he doesn't understand that getting married is not a good idea. I haven't lived enough yet."

"You know he's not going to listen to you. He never listens to anyone."

"I know, he already signed the contract with Alana's family. My bachelorhood ends here."

"How long does the contract last?"

We get in the car, and I toss my phone in the back seat.

"At least four years."

"The only option you have is to act like the biggest idiot on planet Earth. Her parents are going to hate you, and they won't want their little girl with a man like you."

"Everyone would want to be with a man like me, but I understand what you're saying. Will you help me?"

"You know I will."

A smile appears on my face. Precipitously, I thought I would be married in a couple of months, that I would hate having a woman in my house, and that the nights of drinking with Benton would be ruined because of Alana. I don't know her, and I don't know what she looks like, but based on my tastes, she must be a pretty woman.

As the day approached its halfway point, I decided it was time to get ready. I let my best friend dress up as formally as possible, while I dressed quite casually, with a sweatshirt, sneakers, and my favorite jeans. Lunch flew by as we sorted out some contracts, reviewed paperwork, and made sure each location was in order. I own several publishers and had wanted to start a modeling agency, but knowing that Alana is a model has made me lose interest.

We arrived at my parents' house around seven. One table. Two families who barely know each other. And a marriage in the middle. I ended up going to the kitchen and heard the voices of two women talking cheerfully. When I entered, I saw my mother and Alana's mother conversing. Their eyes rested on me and my attire, then on Benton and how he had come dressed.

"Mr. Lather!" Alana's mother approached my friend with a big smile, and I restrained myself from laughing. My mother has opened her eyes so wide that I think she wants to kill me, but it's okay, I never told her to do everything my father wants. "You are more handsome than your mother told me."

"I think..."

"Alana will be down in a second, she went to the powder room," she continued without letting Benton finish. I coughed and approached her with delicacy.

"I'm Jack Lather, a pleasure, Mrs. Anderson, but I think you're mistaken."

"Oh, excuse me. I thought..."

"My best friend Benton, you can come to him for anything you need, he's also my right-hand man."

"Excuse my incompetence, you are very handsome."

"Thank you," I limited myself to responding.

Old hypocrite. I'm sure she would have said that to any guy who walked in through that door. At first glance, she has let herself be carried away by appearance and put on a new face when she saw my attire, so I suppose she didn't think it was a good idea what I put on.

My mother wants to throw something at my head, she looks at me as if I had gone crazy, and the woman who seconds ago was flattering me now can't stop glancing at Benton, which makes me feel uncomfortable.

"Hey man, I'm going to talk to your dad."

"Why don't you go to my room? I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Much better," he said, widening his eyes in desperation.

I approached to help Mom and put my hands on the plate she was preparing. I rarely cook with her, she doesn't like other people meddling in her food. I've gotten so used to cooking with Benton that lately, it feels strange to see Mom cooking and not doing anything.

Alana's mother gets up from her chair and goes with my father and her husband. For a moment, I allow myself to breathe with tranquility, I look at my mother and wash my hands.

"Do you like her?"

"She's an arrogant woman."

"Imagine what her daughter must be like," I say with irony, and Mom laughs.

"Her daughter is not like her."

"I want to believe you, but I can't."

"Jack, try not to make a fool of yourself and go change, I know you did it on purpose."

"I don't want to get married," I blurt out.

"A businessman makes sacrifices for his family."

"Shit, now you sound like my father."

I leave the kitchen in a fury and hit one of the paintings on the way to my room. My father and Alana's parents watch me with their eyes wide open, and I click my tongue. Mr. Anderson didn't find the hit I gave very funny, but it makes me feel even less like marrying his daughter. How did I end up in this situation? I thought Mom would be on my side, that she would tell me it was okay not to get married, that I was too young, or something like that. But she agrees because she thinks it's a necessary sacrifice for the family.

However, I want to believe that deep down Mom doesn't agree with my marriage and will say something to save my ass as she always does. I open the door to my room and see Benton with Alana, one in each corner of the room. I don't know what they were looking at, they're both focused on their phones. This scene makes me want to let out an ironic laugh because Benton is the last person I want to see right now. I pause for a second to observe what she looks like physically and smile because she's exactly the opposite of my type. Dad knows my tastes in women. He knows I prefer them to be short, with dark hair and dark eyes, but she's not like that.

Alana is tall, not taller than me but still, she has reddish hair and green eyes. She's a beautiful fair-skinned girl, but she's not my type. I don't feel any physical attraction towards her, so I don't understand how we'll spend four years in the same house without me wanting to kill her.

"Hey."

Both of them put their phones down to look at me, and Alana scans me more than she should, clicks her tongue, and puts on a bored expression.

"Are you Jack?"

"Who else could I be?" I say frustrated. "Are you an idiot?"

The girl frowns and flips me off, which makes me smile. I expected her to be more delicate, to want to show me a thousand photos of her latest shoot or to talk to me about the latest shoes that have come out. I close the door behind me and lie down on the bed. The girl doesn't take her eyes off us, as if she's expecting a reaction that isn't going to happen.

"I missed last night's race, my mother kept insisting that I help her look for my dad's papers. But we didn't even find them, it was a waste of time. Did you see it?"

"No, I was busy with some paperwork I had to fill out."

"Right," Benton responds, looks at the girl, and makes a disgusted face. "What? Why haven't you stopped looking at us? I know we're both very attractive, but it's uncomfortable."

"No one has said anything to me since I arrived, and I'm going to marry Jack in less than a week. I just thought it was rude of him not to include me in the conversation."

"In a week?" I shout louder than I intended. Alana nods and smiles, but it's not a happy or cynical smile, it's rather a sad one and it reminds me that we're both in the same situation and instead of making her feel understood, I'm making her feel much worse. "I thought it would be in a few months."

"My father wants us to get married quickly, he says it will help me. He may be right and I'm making a big deal out of this. But I have a boyfriend and I like him, I don't want to pretend I'm with you. I mean, I don't even know you, Jack."

"I don't intend to get married either, I like my bachelor life. I had no idea you had a boyfriend, I don't agree with this marriage, and apparently, you don't either. But it's what our families need and to a certain extent, I can understand it. What I do know is that our parents are sacrificing our happiness for theirs."

"A woman always has to make great sacrifices, my dad tells me that all the time," she mentions with an ironic laugh. Alana's father sounds like a man who is very similar to mine. I'm starting to understand how both parents became very good friends. "At first, I thought he was saying it for my good, now it sounds sexist."

"It is."

She nods.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation about how your parents are assholes, but you guys need to come down, it's time for dinner."

"We're coming," I reply.

Alana Anderson.

The Andersons are a family dedicated solely to modeling. In her time, my mother was one of the best, no one could believe that a woman could be so beautiful, her body, her eyes, her hair. Everyone loved those specific aspects. I grew up thinking I had to be like her, although she never forced me, at least not at first. At first, I enjoyed the early days of my modeling career, I felt free, I felt like that was truly my world. But now I have nowhere to turn, I have to model and follow in my family's footsteps, not because I enjoy it, but because it's what they want. I found out about the marriage days after returning from Milan, my parents were sitting talking among themselves and looked up, they watched me for what felt like years and then they let it out. "We want you to marry the son of a wealthier family than ours."

I thought about it and wanted to laugh, I don't want to get married at this age, I don't want to have to organize a wedding that will make me unhappy for a long time and I certainly don't want to give my parents that pleasure. I had thought about refusing, telling them that this wasn't what I wanted for my life. That I was going to move out of the house in a few days. When I was about to say it, Dad confessed that he had already signed a contract and that my opinion this time was not valid. I felt like I was sold out by my parents, and what I wanted wasn't relevant to them.

I'm sitting in a café drinking coffee with one of my best friends, Anastasia, she promised me she would be here to make me feel better and of course, she wanted to meet the person I'm going to marry. I'm not excited about introducing her to Jack, but I don't have many options. I've met his best friend and he needs to meet mine. That's how normal relationships work. We promised we were going to try to make it work that way.

We didn't promise anything. I just assumed and let myself be carried away by Anastasia's crazy ideas, that's why we're both here waiting for a businessman whose schedule must be busier than the President of the United States.

"Is he handsome?" Anastasia looks at me and continues stirring her coffee, but I just shrug in response. I have no idea if he's handsome or not, but I don't want to know anything else about it, or about how everyone on social media thinks he's the most attractive man on the planet. Not to mention that two years ago a photo of his abdomen was leaked and the girls died for such a work of art. Or so they described it.

"If he has a handsome friend, I want to meet him, I need a man to come and tell me everything I have to do."

"Everything you have to do?" I laugh and she shakes her head. Since we've known each other, she's liked to joke like that, for Anastasia, men are like tissues, she uses them and discards them. And it's not just because she wants to, it's because there are more things behind why she is the way she is.

"You know I'm joking, I haven't met anyone after him. At least not anyone I like."

Her eyes stop and she licks her lips sensually, I raise a playful eyebrow and she signals for me to turn around. However, I don't. I feel like it would be too indiscreet on my part.

"He's the most handsome man I've ever seen in my life, you have to see him. Alana, I'm serious, you have to see him before he sits at his table," she whispers hysterically. I shake my head repeatedly, but she drops something on the floor for me to pick up, I open my eyes and bend down. By the time I'm about to get up, I hear a gasp from my friend and a deep voice I haven't heard much of.

"Good morning."

I put Anastasia's earring on the table, blinking slowly as I see Jack and exhale. Neither of us has sent messages to each other other than the morning one. We don't talk much, we don't know anything about each other. The dinner the other day went considerably well. And even though our parents seem to be longtime friends, my mom and his are very different people, married to similar men. Jack slides the chair back and sits down, neither of us says anything and he smiles. It's a smile that says he's been nervous on his way here and doesn't know where to start. Sometimes, knowing his entire career and the big things he's accomplished, I forget that we're the same age.

"He's my fiancé," I say, Anastasia opens her mouth to say something but then closes it.

"Pleased to meet you, Jack Lather."

"Anastasia Spring," she smiles and lets out a laugh after that. Jack furrows his brow not quite understanding what that was about. Until I realize that Anastasia was talking about Jack when she mentioned the most handsome man in the universe.

"You're even prettier than in the photos that Alana showed me. We haven't been seeing each other much, but I like to think that talking about nails and photos is her passion and not her way of torturing me.

"Nails are an art that few women possess, so I hope you know what you're talking about," I mutter and he laughs. I've never talked to him about nails, clothes, or photos. Really, about no particular topic. Those things I talk about with my friends and people in my social circle. Most people probably think I'm the typical model who likes the same things all the time, and they may be right, I'm very stereotypical. But I'm okay with who I am. Nevertheless, Anastasia seems impressed by what Jack has said and a smile from ear to ear on her part lets me know that he likes her for me.

And I hate it, I hate the way Anastasia smiles in his presence, I don't want her getting any strange ideas. He's just a guy I met two days ago. He doesn't know anything about me, and I have no idea where he got what he said seconds ago. But he pretends to know me well and smiles so superficially that it makes me sick. I don't know how she doesn't realize that Jack is just trying to please her.

"Last weekend, Alana and I went to a party, and everyone there wanted to be with her. But don't worry, she didn't pay attention to any of them," as she develops her story, Jack nods and listens attentively. "A guy was so drunk that he spilled his drink on her, and the best part of the situation is that being a woman, Alana knew how to put him in his place. I was impressed by everything she said. In a few words, she insulted him and may have put him in his place a little, but he deserved it."

I shift uncomfortably in my chair and drink my coffee, waiting for Jack to say something about my behavior the other night, but he doesn't. I see a momentary disgust in his eyes until he straightens up and clears his throat.

"I suppose it's the guy's fault for spilling his drink on a public figure."

"That's right," Anastasia answers confidently.

"Do you work in the industry? Are you a model like Alana?"

"Yes, we both started in this together. However, she is more well-known than me. I recently signed up with a company that will boost my career. My manager and I are excited about it."

"I see. You're a bit quiet, is something wrong?" This time Jack addressed me. Both pairs of eyes concentrate on my response, and I quickly shake my head.

"Darling, I hate talking when I have my mid-morning coffee. It makes me want to vomit," I say disdainfully.

"I'm sorry I have no idea about that, sweetheart," he emphasizes the last word with irony and looks at his watch. "It's been an honor to meet you, Anastasia, and Alana, I'll see you later. I have to go to work."

"So soon?"

"I can't leave all the work to Benton," he forces a smile. "I promise we'll see each other later with more time."

I want to tell him that he can't leave like that, that he has to stay, but who knows if he's going to work. My mother's life with my dad has been nothing more than seeing him when he has free time, and she hated it. Sometimes I saw her crying at night because she missed the man she fell in love with. I don't want to have my mother's life, but apparently, it's the life I'm destined to have. Jack gets up and puts the chair back in its place. He's about to leave when he turns around and puts his hand on my shoulder.

"Do you want me to take you home? Or do you want to go somewhere else?"

"I'm going to meet my manager. I have a photoshoot in a little while."

"Okay, I can take you."

"I'll stay," Anastasia interrupts, and we both nod.

We head to his car, and I focus all my attention on my phone. I've never paid much attention to Jack's features, and that catches my attention when I see him getting into the driver's seat. He doesn't open the passenger door for me, he just waits for me to get in on my own and I scoff. I don't know what I expected from a guy like him, and I don't know what I expected from someone who isn't my partner.

I get into the car and cross my arms. The guy next to me doesn't show any expression, he's just there, still, looking for music of his preference. I uncross my arms and allow myself to observe him closely. He has intensely blue eyes, although when the light hits them they look really clear. He has some moles on his cheek and has a fair complexion. Not to mention the black color of his hair and how tall he is, with a chiseled jaw and muscular arms, and all the girls on the internet are right. Jack Lather can easily pass as the most handsome man on the planet.

I look back at the front and don't say a word because I feel like if I do, I'll blurt out something stupid.

"Your friend showed me that she's just as superficial as you are," he finally speaks up.

"I'm glad," I say.

"I can't marry you, Alana. You're the complete opposite of me. I don't like a girl who spends all day obsessing over things that don't matter. And I know your image is what makes you money. But, for God's sake! You don't have to keep talking about it or treating people however you want."

"We've only met twice and you pretend to know everything about my life, but that's not true. You have no idea what I usually talk about with my friends or how I treat people," I shout in frustration.

"I've researched you, Alana. I'm sure I know what I'm talking about."

I'm looking at him like I want to hit him because that's exactly what I wish I could do now. Jack has no sense of tact. He's an idiot who says whatever he wants whenever he wants, and it's starting to infuriate me. I don't want to have to scream at him because I know we're going to be spending a lot of time together from now on. But it angers me that he pretends to know me.

Jack is looking at me, waiting for me to say something, but I focus my gaze on the front and don't say another word. The drive feels light to me, after a few minutes of listening to music and ignoring everything, it seems to be going well. I'm curious about how he knew all those things about me, or who he's been talking to.

When we arrive, he parks and sighs.

"I don't want problems with you. I just want you to know that we're not compatible and if you can make this shit end, do it."

"We're in the same situation, Jack."

"Good luck."

I get out of the car and walk to the studio. I should call Dad and tell him that this marriage thing is a terrible idea, that I can be fine alone, and that, above all, no one cares about his own life except me. I hardly slept last night, tossing and turning in bed thinking about what to do about this marriage, imagining what my life would be like and what my relationship with Jack would be like. In my mind, nothing was as bad as it is in real life.

I move aside for some girls to pass, and I enter the salon. There are only two people there, my manager and a man who could be twice my age. I've never paid much attention to the world of marketing, at least not anything I do on my own. I hate studying certain things and reading. Reading may be what I hate the most in the world.

"Alana," Daniel smiles. "You arrived earlier than I thought."

"Well, did you want me to arrive later? You've been bugging me all week about coming early, I do, and it seems like you're throwing it in my face."

"It was just a comment," he says somewhat frustrated. I roll my eyes and look at the man next to me.

"A pleasure, owner of the Fashionweek fashion magazine."

"Alana, one of the best models in the country."

The man with the horrible beard smiles satisfied.

"Mr. Chris has come because he wants to sign a contract with us. I'll review the terms and then get in touch with you."

"I don't think it's necessary to review anything," I say, interrupting Daniel. "I'd like to sign right away."

"Alana," he whispers. "We should read contracts."

"I'm sorry I don't have the contract on hand, Miss Alana. I'm sure your answer will please my brand. Have a good afternoon."

I don't want to sound like a crazy person, but that man is important. He influences many brands and competitions all over the world. Working with him is going to open many doors for me, and I'm willing to sign whatever he asks. I stay looking at the door like an idiot, and Daniel observes me annoyed.

"Don't contradict me like that in front of anyone ever again, do you understand?"

He wrinkled his face. "Excuse me? I pay you."

"Alana, I'm serious," he roars furiously. "I can quit at any time, I hope you keep that in mind."

"You're not going to leave me!" I shout as he walks to his office, slamming the door so hard that it makes me shudder, and once I'm alone, I throw myself on the couch, and a tear slides down my cheek.

I don't know why I'm crying.

Maybe it's because of everything that's happening to me.