Aaron
They say fate has a way of finding you, but I don't think of that as I walk into the mansion of the Marcher family. I am here for one purpose: to get the deal done. If I can do that, I'll get what I want most—respect from my father.
When I meet David Marcher, he introduces me to his daughter, the woman I am supposed to marry. I'm not a fan of arranged marriages, but I don't have a choice. This is the only way I can achieve what I want.
Her name is Chloe Marcher. She looks sweet—maybe too sweet. But that doesn't bother me too much. I'm focused on one thing: the promise my father made to me. And I have to get married first to make it happen.
We are standing in the living room and I can't help but feel dazzled.
The living room of the Marcher mansion exudes old-world luxury and power, a space designed to intimidate as much as impress. The room is expansive, with ceilings that stretch high above, adorned with an elaborate crystal chandelier that casts a warm, golden light across the space. Rich, well polished wood paneling lines the walls, interrupted only by towering arched windows draped in heavy burgundy curtains trimmed with gold tassels.
The centerpiece of the room is a massive stone fireplace, its mantel decorated with ornate carvings and holding an array of silver-framed family photos. Above it hangs an oil portrait of a stern-looking man—presumably an ancestor of the Marcher family—his piercing gaze following anyone who dares to linger too long.
Luxurious furniture is arranged in a formal yet inviting manner, with deep leather armchairs and a long velvet sofa positioned around a marble coffee table. The table itself holds a crystal decanter filled with amber liquid and a matching set of glasses, a sign of hospitality that feels more like a calculated display of wealth.
The air is faintly perfumed with the scent of aged wood and leather, lending the room a weighty atmosphere that reflects the Marcher family's influence and legacy.
But my mind drifts after getting caught in its beauty. It drifts back to my holiday which has been cut short.
Japan was an amazing time, and I even met an American woman there. A striking woman with black hair and dazzling silver eyes. She was one of a kind. Maybe it's because I met her in the most unexpected way. But it was nothing more than a fling. After the sex, we parted ways—well, she left before I could wake up.
Never do I imagine I'll see her again. Especially not in the house of my future father-in-law.
A chill runs down my spine as she calls my name. I vividly remember moaning it out in that hotel room, and the memory is almost impossible to forget. Especially since it was barely twenty-four hours ago. What is she doing here? And why does she have to call out my name in front of her father?
My eyes darts to Mr. Marcher, who is glaring at her. He doesn't look pleased to see her. Maybe they have an issue. She didn't tell me why she was in Japan, and I never asked. We were both focused on one thing: pleasure. And we got it.
I can't let her ruin this for me. Not after I've come this far. I won't let it happen. I need to find a way to stop this before it escalates. All I have to do is play along and act like I don't know her. That's the safest move.
I flash her a fake smile and nod.
"Meghan," I say. "It's nice to see you again."
Meghan looks at me, dumbfounded. She's struggling to process what's happening in front of her. I can tell from the way she stares at me. Her silver eyes are as captivating as I remember from the party.
That party was my last night in Japan. I was looking for a local companion to hang out with, treating it like a makeshift bachelor party. I knew what awaited me back home, and now, here I am, facing it.
"You two know each other?" Mr. Marcher asks.
I turn to him and find him staring at me, one eyebrow raised. I nod carefully, keeping my composure.
"Yes. We met at a party in Japan some time ago," I reply. "She made me feel more at home, which isn't easy when you're in another country."
Mr. Marcher says nothing and instead turns to Meghan, who still looks lost. She blinks twice before smoothing the confusion from her face. Then, she smiles and extends her hand for a handshake.
"Nice to meet you again, Aaron," she says gently. "I never thought we'd run into each other again. Twice."
I take her hand and feel its softness, sparking vivid flashbacks of when she gave me the best blowjob I've had in years. She's talented—talented in ways her father and sister will never know. I laugh in my mind as I think about this. I should be worried, but yet I am relaxed as I hold onto her hand.
"Thank you," I say, shaking her hand firmly. "Neither did I."
An awkward moment stretches between us as we hesitate to let go of each other's hand. Neither of us wants to release first, both lost in memories of what happened just hours ago. It's hard to forget something like that, especially when you thought you'd never see the other person again.
But, as I've learned, fate loves playing cruel jokes on me.
"What are you doing here?" she asks.
I can't say it. How do I tell the woman I slept with mere hours ago that I'm about to marry her sister? It would devastate her, and it would only make the tension worse. I need a distraction, but nothing comes to mind. Resigned to my fate, I prepare to tell the truth.
"He's going to be my husband soon, sis," Chloe says, walking into the room.
I breathe a sigh of relief. Chloe steps in like a lifeline, and I won't forget it. She's smiling brightly, as though this is everything she's ever wanted. If I had a choice in this marriage, though, I know exactly who I'd pick.
Meghan's eyes widen in surprise. This is the reaction I expected.
"He's the one you were talking about?" she asks in disbelief.
Chloe nods enthusiastically.
"Yes, sis. I'm so glad you two already know each other," she says. "This might work out even better than I hoped!"
Chloe's enthusiasm irritates me. She acts like a child—because she is one. At twenty-three, she's still immature and inexperienced. It feels wrong to take that from her, especially since I'm more than a decade older.
Meghan is speechless, trying to process the unfolding drama. I understand how she feels. Everything is collapsing around her, and she doesn't know how to react. The man she slept with hours ago is about to marry her sister. If I were in her shoes, I'd feel awful and guilty too.
"I need to use the bathroom," she finally says, excusing herself.
We all watch as she leaves. I'm the most concerned about her. I feel like I've wronged her, but how could I have known she was related to the woman I'm marrying? Even if someone had told me, I wouldn't have believed it.
Mr. Marcher remains oddly silent throughout the interaction, like a passive observer. He sips his scotch while I glance down at the glass in my own hand, realizing it's trembling. I clench my jaw and force myself to drink.
"So, what were we saying, Mr. Marcher?" I ask, feigning nonchalance.
"Ah, yes," he says, turning to me. "I trust your father told you what to expect from the marriage?"
I chuckle. He's talking about the agreement he has with my father. David Marcher is a shrewd man. My father warned me about him, but I thought he was exaggerating. I was wrong.
"Yes, I'll remind him," I reply. "But I'm sure it's still on his mind."
Mr. Marcher nods and takes another sip. I want to ask about Meghan, but I know better. The tension between them when she walked in was palpable. There's clearly a strained relationship, but why? Could that be why she was in Japan? It seems likely.
"Thank you for coming," Mr. Marcher says. "I thought you might change your mind."
I laugh dryly. Forget about the reward for marrying Chloe? Not a chance. This is my shot, and I'm going to see it through.
"I wouldn't miss it for anything, sir," I assure him.
He pats my shoulder, chuckling. Chloe has left the room, and I doubt Meghan plans to return anytime soon.
I glance at my watch and realize it's time for me to leave. I need to check in at the hospital.
"I have to go now, Mr. Marcher, but I'll be around," I say.
He nods.
"I heard you're living next door. Good choice."
I chuckle.
"Not quite next door, considering your mansion takes up most of the block."
He laughs heartily.
"I like you."
I smile faintly. I like myself too.