The Billionaire Transient Wife

Chapter 1

Not many people walk down the streets of New York drunk, especially in the middle of the day. They usually rush along the sidewalks and cross the streets, trying to race with time to earn more money.

But not Cassandra.

She was taking her precious time wandering around, struggling to walk in a straight line.

Trying to keep her smile to herself, she looked around her, wondering why these people wore poker faces as they talked on their phones while walking briskly down the street. She was thankful she was self-employed-well, as what she would call it.

Cassandra took a deep breath, the taste of beer still lingering in her mouth. She had been drinking since lunch time for no apparent reason. She squeezed her eyes for a better vision as she slowly walked while trying hard not to drop on the ground every time a passerby bumped into her. She felt her way to the wall and leaned against it, breathing heavily. She shouldn't have drank that much, she thought. Her hands were getting numb, her feet losing their strength.

I'm going to faint right here if I don't find somewhere to rest, she murmured to herself.

Hope abandoned her when she saw the long crowded street and even her blurred sight was a hindrance. She knew the street very well and she was pretty aware that there was not a place to rest.

Fine, I'll sit anywhere then. Squinting one eye, she walked toward the nearest store and dropped on the bottom step, trying to keep her head high. If she dropped it any lower, she'd definitely throw up right there and then. Her phone started ringing again. She didn't answer. She knew it was her father and he had been asking to see her since last week. She thought she should call him tomorrow, once she was back to her sober self.

Cassandra didn't have a problem really-she was just like that. She did anything that came to her mind without thinking. When she had ordered her first bottle, she reasoned she wanted to celebrate her upcoming exhibit. When the second one came, she thought she was celebrating life. On the succeeding bottles, thoughts of celebration flew out the window.

She stood up after her head cleared a little bit. She needed a cup of coffee, and she knew just the place for a perfect one. The rest must have done something good for she found it less difficult to find her way to the coffee shop.

"My head is throbbing, I need a strong one," she told the lady behind the counter the moment she entered the shop.

"What would you like?"

Cassandra looked up at the menu, the letters merging into one. "Just...fix me something strong."

"Okay, one really strong cappuccino coming up," the lady smiled.

She fumbled in her purse for some coins, handed the lady a handful and said, "Just get the exact amount. I have trouble counting at the moment,"

The lady looked at her curiously but did as she asked. She handed Cassandra the rest of the coins and said, "I'll serve you your coffee if you want." She must have noticed her customer struggling to stay on her feet.

"Thanks. That will be great." Cassandra went to the nearest table and made herself comfortable, resting her chin on her hand.

"Cassandra Anders?" a male voice said over her.

"Hmm?" was all she could muster. She sensed some movement across the table from her and when she peered through her heavy lids, she noticed that a man was sitting at the empty chair facing her.

"I'm Philip Strindberg and I need to talk to you."

"Come back at a good time," she slurred and closed her eyes once again.

"Now is the best time," the voice was now etched with irritation so she opened her eyes once again to look at the man, her bluish gray ones meeting his blue ones.

"Best time for what?" she asked, not really in the mood for a chat.

"To give you an offer you surely won't resist."

She snorted, "And what is that?"

"To be my wife."

The alcohol that had been flowing like crazy through her veins stopped and drained down her head as she looked up at the handsome stranger in disbelief.

*****

Chapter 2

"Let me tell you something you may not know, Mister," Cassandra tried very hard to spit out each word separately. "You don't play funny pranks on drunken people."

He peered down at her, his blue eyes narrowed. She was in an awkward position with her upper arms resting on the table, her lower ones framing both sides of her face, and her hands were making motions over her head.

"You're drunk?" his voice asked with disbelief.

She gave out a throaty laugh and buried her face down her arms, "Oh God, you're such an idiot," she said, her voice muffled by her limbs.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." She glanced up at him with squinted eyes. "Please find someone else to have a crazy conversation with because I'm not just up to it."

He was about to speak up when her coffee arrived. She gave her thanks to the lady who hastily left to go back to the counter. She savored the warm feeling the hot liquid offered when she took a careful sip.

"As I've said before, I'm here to talk to you," the stranger said once again this time with a forceful, patient tone.

Her vision was getting clearer now and she had time to study the man. She straightened on her chair looking at the handsome creature in front of her. She guessed he must be in his late twenties or early thirties, his hair was brown and everywhere-it was like messy but not at all because it gave him a rugged-clean look. His nose was just perfect and his lips were just plain edible. His divided chin was cleanly shaven she could even smell his aftershave. Overall, his rugged face and his formal attire-in dark blue tie and black coat-gave off an aura of power and confidence.

"What? About marriage?" she chuckled, finally remembering what he said earlier about some offer he had for her. "Nah-ah, not gonna happen."

"Really? But I was just being nice earlier by saying I have something to offer you because in fact, you don't really have a choice."

"What do you mean I don't have a choice? And what's your name again?" she leaned on her arms.

"Philip Strindberg," he answered, leaning forward so their faces were inches apart. "And yes, you don't really have a choice. The contract is sealed."

Cassandra's face contorted in confusion, the coffee finally had its effect for her vision cleared instantly. "Wait, stop right there. What contract?"

Philip Strindberg smiled in contentment upon seeing her reaction and leaned back against his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. "A contract your father signed before we made the deal."

"My father? Deal? What are you talking about?" That time a rush of panic and doom started to rise up her gut. The mention of her father made her realize that the man sitting in front of her may not be playing some kind of prank after all. "What deal?" she repeated.

"Nothing big," he said. "It's just a contract for some loan money in exchange of me getting you for a wife."

That did not really register as quickly as it was meant to be. The words seemed to travel through the air in slow motion until they crept inside her ears and were processed by her brain. When she finally decoded the message her jaw dropped and her mind tried to deny the information. Denial was fast to disappear because a sudden burst of anger flared up and she cried, "Hell no! That's absurd!" She started to get up, leaving her coffee and the crazy handsome man.

He stopped her by grabbing her wrist, pulling her back toward him. "As I've said, you don't have a choice here," Philip said quietly, his voice edged with a tinge of anger.

She snapped her head down at him, almost cursing herself because it hurt like hell what with the alcohol still lodged in her brain. With her piercing eyes she said, "I don't have anything to do with my father's business so let me go."

"Yes, that's true," he nodded. He met her eyes and tightened his grip instead of letting go. "But I'm sure you don't want your father in jail, do you?"

"I am sure that whatever deal you had with my father was illegal. Let me get sober so I could search for a law book or something and then I'll get back to you. This is the twentieth century, dude. You're lying."

"No I'm not. And it is twenty first. We are in the twenty first century," Philip answered quickly. Cassandra ignored him and ge took the opportunity to continue, saying, "If you want, you can call your father. I'm sure he'd be glad to fill you in with the details."

She pulled at her hand but he was strong, "Let me go."

"Not until you agree to listen to me."

"I don't have to listen to any stupid things you have to say."

"Even if it means saving your father from shame and years in prison?"

"Oh my God, I hate you already."

"I get that a lot."

"I'll pay you. I have money."

He shook his head no and said, "I made the contract for a reason, Cassandra. As you may very well see, I don't need more money." He looked at her intently. "I need a wife. And your father already signed for it. All I just have to do now is claim it."

"What do you need a wife for?" she asked incredulously. Maybe she had too much to drink and she was just hallucinating. Oh God, this was just plain crazy.

"I have my reasons," he shrugged his shoulders. "But I'm not telling you that. Please sit down," he urged gently but strongly at the same time.

"No, I'm leaving."

"If you leave, I'll have no choice but to drag you back to your chair and strap you to it. And don't think I'm joking." There was something in the way he said it that made Cassandra believe every word. Reluctantly, she stomped back to her chair and sat down in a huff. "Good, glad to know we understand each other."

"No, you threatened me. Please go on and let's get this over with so I can go to the nearest police station and have you arrested."

He must have disregarded her last statement because he started his speech. "First, I would like to apologize for-"

"Apology not accepted," she cut in. "Now, please go on to the next topic."

Philip took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm his raging senses and did as what she said. "As I've said, your father and I signed a contract that the moment I transfer the money to his business account, I will have you as my wife in return." He held up his hand when she opened her mouth. "Let me finish. In the contract, we agreed that the moment the business is back on its feet you will be free to leave."

She raised her hand, her eyes questioning. Understanding what she meant, he gave off a curt nod and she said, "How long does the moment the business is back on its feet exactly means?"

"The contract holds until six months," he informed formally, like he was reporting for some business associates. "Of course, it will start on the day of the marriage."

"And if I don't marry you?"

"Simple," he placed his hand flat on the table near her now cold coffee, "your father will lose his business and end up with a bunch of legal problems. If you consult your law book, you will know all of them."

He didn't really have to say it twice because even though she didn't have any knowledge of business, she was very well aware that a written legal contract was just plain legal, ergo paying a great deal of price if you breach it.

She didn't doubt that her father would do anything for his dear business. And right now, she really wanted to fly to wherever he was and claw on his face for going too far. How could he do such a thing to his own daughter? His own flesh and blood? His little darling, as what he always said?

"I'm not dreaming, am I?"

"No, you're not. It's as real as can be."

"Oh my God," she dropped her head in defeat. As much as she wanted to kill her father right now, she didn't want him to lose the business he had worked his sweat and blood for and she definitely didn't want him in jail! Her mother would die with just the thought! "Please, let this be a dream."

Philip chose to ignore her emotional display and continued, "You go talk to your father about this. I'm sure he'll want to explain before the wedding."

She snapped her head up once again. "Wedding...when..." she couldn't bring herself to finish the question.

"Two days from now," was his straight answer. With that, Philip Strindberg stood up and looked down at her. "And please, don't try to run away, Cassandra."

The warning he left her before walking away rang through her brain over and over again. Still in a daze, she looked down at her half-empty cup of coffee, trying to think of every possible thing she could do to get through the mess her father had willingly put her in.

Chapter 3

"Dad, where the hell are you?" Cassandra tried real hard not to shout louder. She almost stumbled down the street, struggling with her bag and last bit of intoxication. "Yes, of course I already know! No, I'm going right where you are so you better tell me where, or I'll get on the next plane out of this city. No, this can't wait until tomorrow, dad! For heaven's sakes you set me up to be married in two days' time, that's just bullshit!" A mother walking beside her covered her son's ears at Cassandra's last word. She ignored the blazing gaze of the woman, too busy listening to the address her father was giving her. Without much of a goodbye, she clicked off and made her way to the restaurant.

*****

She would have loved to paint her father's features the moment she saw him, but she was just not in the mood. He was not his usual confident self right now. He looked like he was almost scared and that was the reason why she would have loved to put that face on canvas--but no time to think about that now because she was too furious at the old man. Cassandra stormed across the restaurant, her face fuming in anger. As she made her way to where her father stood before a white clothed table with wine glasses, she deliberated whether she should give herself into the earlier urge to claw on his face.

Of course, she didn't. He was old and fragile and perspiring a lot it would be a crime to dig her fingernails into his wrinkled skin. Her father's gray-blue eyes which looked exactly like hers stared at her anxiously as she stopped outside his personal space, arms crossed over her chest.

She tapped her booted foot on the floor twice and waited for an explanation, not bothering to verbally demand it.

"Darling, let's sit down first," Kurt Anders motioned at the chair beside her. She looked around and saw that some customers were looking at them curiously, their utensils halfway through their mouths. Still glaring, she felt for the chair and sat down stiffly. Her father did the same. "What would you like to eat?"

"Why? You'll hand me as payment for food?" she saw him flinch with her comment and she almost regretted it. Tucking her blond tresses behind one ear, she tried to calm herself.

"Cassy, darling, please understand-"

"I'm trying to understand, dad, but I just can't," she snapped at him, "How can you do that to me, your own daughter? Why?"

"I was desperate!" he said, holding up his hand, "And Philip was kind enough to help me when no other people would!"

Anger rose up her throat again, "Kind? How is that kind, dad? He asked for your own daughter and you gladly consented? Oh God, I thought mom was nuts, but you?" she shook her head in disbelief.

"Darling, just listen to me. It's only for six months. And why don't you try it? You wanted to get married two years ago, right? Why not now?"

She gaped, not so sure if she was actually talking to her own father, "I can't believe this. Is this about what happened two years ago? That's it, isn't it? Did mom talk you into this?"

"No, but it is part of the reason-"

"Goddammit, dad, you don't have the right to marry me off just because of what happened two years ago!" she waved her hand for emphasis.

"But look what you've been doing since then! You mother and I can't see that you're actually living a life with the way you're going through it right now. Philip might be the answer. He's a good man-"

"You mean a good businessman because he was able to talk you into giving me away as payment!"

"Darling, just listen for a second, okay? I did it to save our company. It's your own future."

"Don't try to turn this around me, dad. You did it to save your precious company and I don't want any of it."

"But someday you will."

"Yeah. Maybe. After all I paid for it!"

"Okay, I know this is absurd, but I also thought how you might feel that's why I insisted the contract only last for six months. You can get out of your marriage by the time-that is if you would still want to."

She laughed sarcastically, getting the attention of the people around them once again. "You really planned it so well, didn't you? It is just like making a strategic plan for your damn business."

"Cassy, please, I did it for you and your mother."

"Does she know about this? Did she urge you to do it?" She would not have been surprised if he said yes because that was just her mom, but he surprised her by shaking his head no. She frowned.

"No, she doesn't have any idea, so please don't tell her. I want her to feel happy knowing you'll be tying the knot soon. You know how she felt about what happened two years ago."

It was in that very moment that Cassandra realized that her dad was really desperate to make ends meet when he signed the contract with Philip Strindberg. Though she would love to leave him and go as far away as she could, she knew she could never do that. Her dad had been the first person to approach her when she needed someone the most. He had been there through her grief and always was-until he signed the damn contract.

"What does Philip Strindberg really want anyway? Of all things, why me? He is not desperate to have a wife, is he?"

"I don't know, darling. I asked him that very same question myself. He just said he has his reasons. But don't worry; I made him promise that he won't force you to do anything you don't want to do once you two are married."

"Did you sign on it too?" she asked sarcastically.

Her father sighed, "No, but I take Philip's word. He's one of the people I trust the most."

"Yeah right, I believe you in that. You even trusted him with your own daughter." She knew her father was already suffering with her sarcastic remarks, but she just couldn't help it.

He reached out to hold her hand on the table and squeezed it, "You've been through a lot, Cassy, I know that. But it's been two years. It's time you move on and take a plunge. Consider this marriage with Philip as a new start. Who knows, he might be the right one-"

"Dad, in case you haven't noticed, I don't really have so much of a choice here so stop with the crap about moving on. I've moved on. In fact, I would be ready for a new start-but not this way," she snapped, but did not hold back her hand, "Okay, I'll do this not because I want to-I want you to remember that- I'm doing this to save your ass."

That was enough for him and he nodded slowly, smiling faintly in gratitude.

"I'll go now. I need to have some time to think and get my head back together. I don't know if I am in the right century where women have gained their rights in society and family," she took her hand from her father's and stood up. He made a motion to stand up, but she stopped him, "No, I don't need a lift. I want to walk."

"Will you tell your mom?" he asked with fear. She almost laughed. Knowing her mom, the old lady would jump in joy to learn that her daughter would soon tie the knot whatever the reason may be.

"No, dad, I'm not telling mom. Because I want you to suffer just a little bit knowing you're hiding a little dirty secret from her. It's close enough to prison as you can get. Forgive me for thinking that way, but I'm still angry and I hope you understand. But no worries, I'm not running away. I'll be in that wedding so no need to check on me. See you there." With that, she turned and walked out the restaurant. She didn't want to look back, knowing she'd see the hurt on his face. But she was hurting inside as well, so it was fair enough.

*****

She walked down the streets of New York, feeling the breeze of the ending spring and wishing she would die and wither with the flowers by the end of the season. How wonderful would that be?

Her phone rang and vibrated inside her bag; she fumbled for it and frowned at the unregistered number appearing on the screen.

Maybe it was one of her clients. "Cassandra Anders," she answered.

"This is Philip Strindberg," the oh-so-familiar voice said from the other side.

"Oh, great, my future husband," she said dryly. "To what do I owe the honor of this call?"

"Dress for dinner this evening. I'll be at your door by seven sharp. We're having dinner with my family."

"What dinner-" she did not have time to finish her question because he disconnected as soon as he said the word family.

Family.

Her face paled just a little bit.

The Strindbergs?

Of course she knew the Strindbergs but it did not occur to her that she would marry one of them. She stood frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, fear and anxiety running through every cell of her body when it finally dawned on her that she was marrying into one of the wealthiest families in the country.

I am not ready to meet the clan yet! She shouted in her mind.