Chapter 4
Bound by Arrogance
Mary's POV
The air in the room was suffocatingly cold, thick with tension. Andrew sat across from me, that infuriating smirk etched across his face, his eyes glowing with a mix of arrogance and satisfaction. I had never wanted to wipe a grin off someone's face more than I did right now.
I exhaled slowly, my hands clenched under the table as I tried to steady my racing pulse. How was it possible that the man I had spent one reckless, intoxicating night with, the man who had ignited a fire in me that I was too afraid to admit to was now the very person controlling my father's business legacy?
The world felt like it was spinning out of control. This was not happening.
I leaned back, trying to appear composed, though the shock was beginning to settle like a weight on my chest. "I can't believe this," I muttered under my breath, barely able to suppress the anger and confusion surging through me. My voice faltered as I met Andrew's gaze.
"Surprised?" Andrew's voice was a smooth, mocking drawl, tinged with something dark and self-satisfied. His British accent slid across the air like velvet, making every syllable feel like a tauunt. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes never leaving me. "Fate must have been working in mysterious ways to bring us back together."
"Fate?" I scoffed, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. "If this is fate, then it's a cruel joke."
My father, still oblivious to the true nature of our past encounter, looked between us with growing concern. "What's going on here, Mary?" His tone was edged with confusion, but I could hear the flicker of worry beneath it.
What was I supposed to say? How could I explain to him that the man now holding our future in his hands was the same man whose body I had shared myself with the night before, in a whirlwind of desire that I regretted more than I wanted to admit?
Before I could form any words, Andrew's voice cut through the tension. "She knows me," he said, leaning forward slightly, his gaze now sharp and deliberate. "Quite intimately, actually."
My stomach churned as his words wrapped around me like chains, tightening with every passing second. I shot him a venomous look, my voice shaking with fury and frustration. "Andrew," I warned in a low, controlled growl.
"It's true," he said casually, shrugging as though my discomfort amused him. "Isn't it?"
I couldn't look at him. I couldn't. Not with the weight of my father's gaze pressing against me, questioning and dissecting every action, every choice I had ever made.
"Mary, is this true?" My father's voice cracked, his disbelief and growing alarm too apparent to ignore.
I nodded, trying to keep my composure. "I met him at a party," I muttered quickly, refusing to meet my father's eyes. "It's not what you think, Dad."
Andrew, however, was far from done. His laugh was dark and filled with an unmistakable satisfaction. "Oh, it's exactly what he thinks," he said, a slight edge of malice creeping into his tone.
I shot him a death glare, a palpable silence stretching between us as I clenched my fists under the table, trying desperately to hold onto my sanity. "Enough," I said, my voice now steady. "We're here to talk business, not... whatever this is."
Andrew's smile widened ever so slightly, but he leaned back in his chair as though to give me a chance to regain control. "Of course, let's focus on business. I'm all ears." His tone was drenched in sarcasm, and I had to fight the urge to slap him across the face.
Taking a deep breath, I straightened my back, ignoring the storm that raged inside of me. I opened the folder in front of me, presenting the financial statements for the last five years. "Our company has been profitable, and with your investment, we can grow exponentially," I said, my voice gaining strength. "You'll see a significant return on your investment."
Andrew's gaze never left me. His eyes seemed to cut through me, and despite the cold professionalism I tried to project, I could feel his piercing gaze burn into me. It wasn't admiration or even interest. No, it was something darker, more possessive, as though he could read every secret I harbored.
When I finished, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as his eyes gleamed with calculated intent. "Impressive," he mused, his voice barely above a whisper. "But tell me, why should I invest? What's in it for me?"
The question hit me like a slap in the face, but I fought to stay composed. "My father's legacy is at stake here," I replied, my voice unwavering. "This investment could secure your future as much as it secures ours."
Andrew smirked, that smug grin of his growing. "Oh, I'm sure you are. But I'm not just interested in numbers. I want something... more tangible."
Before I could respond, the door swung open, and a tall, imposing figure entered the room. His presence filled the space with a suffocating weight, his power and authority unmistakable.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," the man said, his voice deep and commanding. He turned to my father without acknowledging me. "Where are we with the negotiations?"
My father stood, his posture a little more rigid than usual. "Good evening, Mr. De La Cruz," he said with strained respect.
I stood to greet him, my heart hammering in my chest. I knew who this was. The patriarch of the De La Cruz family. The man who was known as the devil in the underworld.
"Good evening," I said, forcing politeness into my voice as I offered him a nod.
His sharp eyes flicked to me briefly, then to my father. His expression was unreadable, though he didn't hide the disdain in his gaze when it settled back on me. "Did they send a child to handle this?" he sneered, dismissing me with a wave of his hand.
The words hit harder than I expected, leaving me momentarily stunned.
"She's not a child," my father responded quickly, though I could sense the unease in his voice. "She's the CEO of the company."
The elder De La Cruz raised a single eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Well, let's get to the point. I don't have time for this."
I clenched my jaw, swallowing my pride. The room seemed to close in on me, their arrogance suffocating, but I wasn't about to let them see me break.
"We're offering $500 million," the elder De La Cruz continued, turning to my father as though I weren't even in the room. "In exchange, we expect $750 million within five years. Take it or leave it."
The terms were harsh. Impossible, even. My stomach sank. This was a trap.
"Can we have 24 hours to consider?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"No," the elder De La Cruz snapped, his gaze hard. "You decide now, or the deal's off."
Before I could respond, Andrew spoke, his voice a silky whisper in the heavy silence. "I have another proposal."
Everyone turned to him, and my father and I exchanged wary glances.
Andrew looked at me, his grin widening. "What if Mary agrees to marry me for one year?" he said, his voice cool and almost casual. "In return, I'll personally guarantee the $500 million investment. No interest."
I froze. What the hell?
"What?" My voice faltered, a mix of disbelief and fury rising in my chest. "Are you out of your mind?"
Andrew's eyes twinkled with sadistic amusement. "You heard me. One year. Be my wife, and your father's company is saved."
"Andrew, this is ridiculous—" my father started, but Andrew raised a hand to silence him.
"Quiet, Mr. Ezekiel," the elder De La Cruz interjected, his voice like a whip. "Let the children sort this out."
I turned to my father, my heart breaking. "Dad, I can't do this."
My father's face was a mix of anguish and resolve. "Mary, it's your decision. But the company... the legacy... it's all in your hands."
The weight of his words crashed down on me. I had spent my life protecting his dreams, protecting our family's name. Now, everything was crumbling in front of me.
I turned back to Andrew, the rage and humiliation boiling inside me. "Fine," I spat, my voice seething. "One year. That's it."
Andrew's grin grew, and he slid a contract across the table. "You won't regret it."
With trembling hands, I signed, each stroke of the pen feeling like a betrayal of everything I believed in.
As we stood to leave, I called out to him, my voice barely above a whisper. "Andrew," I said, the weight of the moment sinking in.
He paused, turning to face me with that infuriating smirk still plastered across his face. "Yes?"
I swallowed hard, fighting the lump in my throat. "That night we shared... Did it mean anything to you?"
His laugh was cold and cruel, echoing in the room like a death sentence. "That night meant nothing to me."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I felt my heart shatter