THE BILLIONAIRE'S TEMPORARY BRIDE

Micheal’s POV

My father sat on the opposite side of my office table; a steely look plastered on his face.

“Micheal, I won’t repeat myself. You have one month to find a wife. The family legacy depends on it.”

I leaned back in my chair, forcing a calm smile I didn’t feel at the moment. “Father, marriage isn’t something I can rush. When the time is right, I will handle it. Now, can we focus on more pressing matters? Like the up-and-coming meeting with the new investors?”

But his gaze didn’t change. “There is nothing more important than this.” He stood and walked to the door. “We won’t discuss it again. One month.”

He left without another word. My chest finally dropped to level, and I glanced at my phone. The screen liT up with Kimberly’s name. Maybe she could help me shut my father up.

*

When I arrived at her apartment, she opened the door wearing a red nightdress that barely hid anything. Her hair pushed back, bringing her face into focus even more. Before I could speak, she pressed her lips against mine, and everything else faded.

Later, we lay on our backs. My chest moving up and down faster than I wanted to. But the sound of her breathing eased my worries a bit. Both of us were covered in sweat, and we didn’t talk for a while.

Then, like a stupid person, I said without thinking twice. “Will you marry me?”

Her smile faltered as she turned to face me. “Micheal, we have talked about this. I love you, but marriage isn’t on the table right now. My modelling career is finally taking off. I can’t afford distractions.”

“You think marrying me will be a distraction?” I asked, my frustration slipping through.

She moved and rested a hand on my cheek. “Soon you will want kids, and I can’t give you that right now. Just trust me, okay? Let’s wait a while.” She kissed me softly.

But that didn’t change the fact that she refused to marry me.

She dressed up and walked to the bathroom. “Will you be staying for the night?” She called and turned on the water.

I dressed quickly, “maybe tomorrow. I need to meet my father for something.” I lied and left before she could say more.

I wandered the city aimlessly, my thoughts a storm. Kimberly’s refusal hit harder than I expected. Why couldn’t she see how much this meant to me? I didn’t propose simply because my father was forcing me, but because deep down I also wanted to marry her. I loved her.

A loud voice pulled me from my thoughts. Across the street, outside a cafe, a woman with blonde hair was shouting, her hands flying as she stormed towards a man and another woman. Something about her anger rooted me in place.

She was dressed in a long dress that nearly swept the ground. And matched the look with slippers. Overall, she looked simple.

“You slept with her?” she screamed, her voice cracking. “My stepsister, Scott? How could you?”

A man about my height stood looking at her like unwanted food, his one hand wrapped around the other woman’s waist.

The other woman looked to be around the crying woman’s age. With short black hair that reached her shoulders. She wore a dress that was way above her kneecaps, with high heeled shoes.

“Eva is better than you, Natalia. Look at you, your life is a joke.”

Natalia’s face crumbled as Scott kissed her stepsister in front of her.

“Babe, I need to finish shopping. She is not worth our time,” Eva said, playing with Scott’s chest as she grinned at Natalia.

My chest tightened at the cruelty. She stood in the pouring rain, her makeup smeared, sobbing as Scott took one last look at her. He took Eva’s hand, and they drove away in his car, splashing water all over Natalia.

I wanted to help her. I felt her pain; it was just that Kimberly didn’t cheat on me with someone. She just refused to marry me.

But before I could move from the bench where I sat, my car pulled up.

“Sir, your father sent me to fetch you,” my driver said.

I hesitated, glancing back at Natalia as she sank to the wet ground, tears streaming down her face.

“Let’s go,” I said, sinking into the seat. I prayed she would find a way to stand again.

As we drove off, my own dilemma loomed larger. Kimberly’s refusal wasn’t just about love—it was about my father. And suddenly, an idea struck.

A contract marriage. That could actually please my father, but he shouldn’t know about the deal, just that I’m marrying someone. And this would let Kimberly know what she missed.

It can solve my problems.