The Billionaire's Contract

Lucian's POV:

"Son, you're almost 27 and I'm almost 57. I'm not getting any younger and neither are you. You need to start getting involved with things other than work." 

I almost rolled my eyes at my father. "By 'involved with other things,' you mean women?" 

He laughed. His eyes crinkled at the sides, making him seem older than before. He leaned further into the plush leather couch and jingled his empty glass of ice, signaling to the maid for more liquor. "You've got to understand that I only have the best intentions for you, son." 

The maid scurried forward and poured a small amount into the cup, but when my father motioned for more, she filled the short glass to the brim. She curtsied, then ran off, closing the door to the office on her way. 

I leaned forward on the couch carefully so as not to wrinkle my finely pressed suit as the leather seat squeaked beneath me. Clasping my hands together, I said. "You don't have to interfere in my life, Dad. I'm happy being an independent man with a few girlfriends on the side. All women want is money and fame. Isn't that what you said when Mom left?"

My mother left me when I was six, when my father's company was at its best. Before she left, she had taken a large sum—over millions of dollars—from my father. Then, she ran away with the low-life scum who had impregnated her. Ever since then, my father had been bitter about women and had often told me that they only marry for money and would leave in the end.

My father's forehead turned into a wrinkled map of lines. "Son, you know I was only talking about your mother. I was grieving. I loved her. Not all women are gold diggers, and one day you will find a wife worthy of the King name."

I nodded as always. "Sure. One day. Just not today." I looked down at my watch and frowned. "I've got to go. I have an appointment with a client from Italy." 

"Not so fast. It's already late at night. Postpone the meeting." He motioned for me to sit back down, and then I recognized the look on his face. He was going to tell me something I wasn't going to like. At all. "We need to talk."

I raised a hand to my nose and pinched the bridge impatiently, trying to banish the headache that had bloomed between my eyes. "We already talked. I have to go."

"I'm giving you a month."

"A month for what?" But I already knew what he was walking about. 

"I'll give you a month to get engaged. No more, no less." He said. His lips turned down in a sour frown, like he hated what he was about to say next. 

"Or what?"

"Or else you will never work a day for King Enterprises again." He sighed as if it had taken a great deal of effort to get that off his chest.

I snapped. "What the actual hell, Dad!? What kind of prank are you playing on me?" I ran my hands through my jet-black hair, worry already etched into my features. I knew he was serious though. My father never joked around. "And so if I get married, that's it?"

He took in a sharp breath. "If you get married, I will step down from my position as CEO and give you the spot. It is my company. But once you marry, it will become yours."

Mine. The company he worked so hard to establish. The company that's worth billions of dollars and is supported by the government. He would give it all to me. If I got married. 

I stood up abruptly and grabbed my briefcase so hard my knuckles turned white. "I'll see you later, Dad." I said through gritted teeth.

"One month, Son!" he called after me. I heard him sip his liquor and mutter under his breath. "I hope I'm not making a mistake."

*****

(Two days later)

The music was the type of loud that almost feels deafening. The kind that made your eardrums screech in agony. But also the kind that made you gyrate to the music. I pushed past a crowd of sweaty bodies and stumbled to the beat. The effects of the shots I had taken began to seep in, blurring my sight and lighting my body on static fire.

I felt a body shove into mine. "Wanna dance, baby?" She whispered into my ear. Maybe she could be my wife. I'm sure she would accept anyway. But then again, I don't date bottom feeders. 

I pushed away from her and stumbled in the colorful lights that pulsed from the disco ball. I need another drink. 

Before I turned back around to head to the back of the club, I caught sight of one of my ex-girlfriends. She had her arms wrapped around a stranger, a laugh bubbling from her throat. Before I knew it, I was next to her, pushing the guy out of the way and pressing my lips to hers. 

She tasted like gin and tonic—her favorite concoction—and her lips fell into place on mine. But there was something wrong. She tasted vile. Along with the flavor of her drink, I could taste the breath of all the men who had been with her. 

I pulled away, wiping my wrinkled button-up's sleeve on my mouth. 

"What's wrong, babe?" she whispered in my ears, seduction laced in each word. 

And then I was seeing double. I blinked and she became one person again. Did I really just kiss her?

I backed away slowly and retreated to the bar at the back of the club, where the music sounded fainter and more muffled. I stumbled over my feet as I went but didn't fall. The bartender stood behind the bar, a rag in one hand and a glass in the other. She was cleaning out the glass she had just washed. 

"Get me the strongest liquor you have," I demanded; my words slurred together in a tangled heap.

She raised her left eyebrow in question and set down the dried glass. "I think you've already had enough." Her voice was lower pitched—which was like a breath of fresh air, since most women I dated had the voice of Alvin and the chipmunks—than most women I met, but it only made her all the more attractive. 

"Get me the damn liquor!" I banged my fist against the table, expecting her to jump back in surprise and submit to my requests. Instead, she just stood there, her hands splayed out on the counter, an almost bored expression on her face. She must get customers like me all the time. 

"Okay. Be right back." She replied after ages. She turned around, grabbed a long glass bottle filled with clear liquid, and filled the glass she had just dried—to the top. With a scowl, she slid the glass towards me. "Drink up."

I didn't even pay attention to her comment before gulping down the liquid she had passed to me. The drink only made me realize just how thirsty I was. 

I slammed down the glass and slid it back to her. Soundlessly, she filled it back up, and I drank again. This happened until I had downed about five glasses of the drink. My headache seemed to recede, and my vision cleared. I started to feel like myself, the grief of the ultimatum hanging over my head. 

"That was good. What type of drink was that? Maybe I could get some to take home." I nodded toward the glass bottle that was barely filled. 

She scowled again, her pink lips pulling into an unsettling downwards curve on her face. Her face. It was gorgeous. She had her sleek, black hair pulled into a ponytail, and her eyelashes were a thick bush of black hair, framing her emerald green eyes. If she smiled more, she would look 10 times more beautiful.

"Well, what drink was it?" I asked again, silently scoping out her features. 

"It's this amazing drink I love to drink. It's all-natural and helps drunk idiots become sober." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Ah! I think it's called water." 

Water. She gave me water. I had asked for liquor. I ran my hands through my hair and reached down to loosen my tie. "I'm such a jerk." 

"Right you are." She washed out the glass and began drying again, the charms on her bracelet clinking together.

I tilted my head to the side, suddenly interested. "What's your name?" 

She stopped suddenly, her scowl returning to her lips. "Why would you want to know?" She began drying the glass but now with more vigor than before.

"Because I asked. And I expect to get your name immediately," I replied, my eyes lowering to slits. No one questioned me. 

She swung the rag onto her shoulders and slammed down the glass. Leaning forward, she said. "Listen up, you egotistical big-headed slob. I may be a bartender, but that doesn't give you the damn right to disrespect me. I have a choice whether or not to tell you my name. So, go—"

"I can clearly see you're frustrated because of your job, not because of me." I interrupted, drinking in the look of anger slowly seeping away from her tense shoulders. 

"Whatever. It's not like I can do anything about it. Five dollars an hour. And tips are hard to come by." She turned around and placed the glass back onto the shelf, her long black hair reaching her bottom. 

Then she turned back to me. "But that's the least of my worries." She nodded her head in my direction. "You're not looking so hot yourself, Mr. Suit And Tie. Like literally, who wears a suit to a club?"

"I came here right after work. Guess I'm kind of a workaholic. Work was even worse when my father showed up." I ran my hand through my hair again and squeezed my eyes shut. 

"Boo-hoo. Go cry me a river." She rolled her eyes and began wiping down the counters with another rag. "Billionaire gets sad because his father shows up to throw him some more money." 

I looked up suddenly. "You don't know a thing about me, bartender." 

"Malea." She replied simply, mopping up the area closest to me. 

"Your name?" I asked.

"No, my dog's name." She deadpanned, looking at me.

"Are you serious?" 

Then she rolled her eyes. Again. "No, dumbass. Of course, it's my name." 

I like that name. No, I love that name. 

"Well, Malea," I said, testing the word on my tongue. "My name is—" 

"Lucian King, better known as the world's biggest jerk." Then she gave me a round of applause and continued wiping the counter. 

"Well, you act as if you're not just as much of a jerk as I am," I shot back.

"Fair enough." She shrugged. "So, what did Daddy do to put you in such a bad mood?" 

"He gave me an ultimatum..." I trailed off. Was I really going to confide in a bartender named Malea who seemed to hate my guts? It's not like I had anyone else to talk to...

Malea "What did he say?" I asked, folding the rag in my hand just to keep my hands busy. I honestly could care less about this dude, but as long as he leaves me a Benjamin for tip, I'm good.

"He said I have to get married in under a month or else I'll never work in the Enterprise again. Basically meaning, I'll be fired and would have to be poor."

He spat with animosity.

"Woah. That's some heavy crap." I replied. The music had changed to an electro pop that sounded as if rusted metal gears were grinding against each other. Who would actually want to dance to this?

"I know. I just don't know how I'm going to find a wife al—" When he stopped mid-word, I snapped my attention back to him and not on the crappy music.

"Hmm? You were saying?" I scanned his face. All sharp angles and smooth planes. Stubble lined his chin and gave him a rough appearance. But his eyes. They were a gray almost the color of a blank sheet of paper. Almost. But not quite. Little flecks of violet spiraled around his pupil.

He pointed to himself, then to me. Hopefully he isn’t thinking what I'm thinking.

"Let's make a deal—" he began.

"No freaking way. Never."

"Come on Malea. Just hear me out—"

"I said. No. Way."

"Am I really that repulsive?" He asked, running his hands through his hair. He did that a lot. He wasn't repulsive. He was far from it and he knew so too. He was the most handsome man I've ever seen but has the worst personality.

"I don't want to hear it, Suit and Tie."

"Please. I could make you my assistant. I could pay you more than you'd possibly imagine."

I froze. I could use the money. I literally have one week until my electricity turns off. "I wouldn't stoop that low."

He looked at me, totally exasperated. "Do you really think you could stoop lower than your current job?"

Ok then. "Well that hurt." I pushed out my bottom lip in a pout.

"Please. Consider it." He fixed his icy eyes on me

"Well, I like my job." I blurted. A lie.

He nodded dubiously. "Yeah. Sure. You love serving drunk imbeciles’ liquor and you love making less than 5 dollars an hour."

I hesitated. Then sighed. "What would I have to do?"

"Marry me."

That was when I began laughing. Laughing so hard, my stomach hurt and few people walking by gave me weird looks. "I never knew you could be funny, Suit and Tie."

"Stop calling me Suit and Tie and just call me Lucian." He replied, obviously agitated. "It's not like I have anyone better to ask."

I froze. "I won't marry you, but I do know someone who would do it willingly." I said after a minute.

"Who?" He grabbed my hands but then pulled back suddenly as if my hands were a burning flame.

"My best friend. Alesandra. She's basically had a crush on you since she was 16 and she even talks about being engaged to you. " I croaked. She was an odd person. "She basically knows everything about you." I rolled my eyes. Alesandra was probably going to call me crazy once I told her this.

He looked uncomfortable as he scratched his neck awkwardly. "That's kinda much, don't ya think?"

I shrugged. "Guess so."

He then proceeded to ask a series of un-intelligent questions. "Are you serious though? You have a best friend who isn't a psychopath?"

"What would make you think I would have a psychopath as a friend?" I asked incredulously.

"You seem the type."

"Thanks. You sure know how to make a girl feel special." I scoffed.

"I need visual proof. Show me a picture of her." He demanded.

"Of course, your Royal Highness." I rolled my eyes before pulling out my phone and scrolling through a series of photos before landing on one picture Ales had sent me.

Lucian studied it for a while. "She's pretty."

"Yup." I yawned.

"I can't believe I'm so desperate—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You can't believe you're so desperate, you're contemplating marrying a bartender's best friend."

He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. "Are you going to accept my offer or what?"

"Fine. I accept." I drummed my fingers on the countertop. "I want to come into the office whenever I want to."

"Ha ha. Very funny. No way is that happening."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. I won't do things that makes me uncomfortable. I expect a nice office. I will not take crap from you. You have to treat me with respect and promise to never hurt Ales, whether it be verbally or physically. And if you do, you won't live long enough to apologize."

His eyes turned to slits as he mulled over my high demands. He's totally going to refuse them. Go big or go home right? "Fine. I'll give you my number. Talk to Alesandra and don't show up unless she's with you."

He pulled a business card from his pocket and slid it across the counter. "Do you have a pen?" He asked.

I pulled out a pen from my front pocket and handed it to him. When he finished scrawling his personal number on the back, he stood up. Then shook my hands.

"I'll see you next week, Malea." He said, I could see a small smirk lift the edges of his lips only a little bit.

"Later, Suit and Tie." I replied teasingly, a scowl still on my face.

Before he walked away, he flattened out several bills onto the counter. 100-dollar bills. Then he began walking away and to the exit of the unfortunate Club. "My name is not Suit and Tie. It's Lucian."

Oh, I already know your name, Lucian.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It had taken quite a bit of time to bring up the issue of Lucian to Alesandra. 5 days approximately. Lucian had come to me about his problems on a Saturday night and now Thursday night, I glanced over at Alesandra anxiously. Thursday nights she and I would take time off work and watch old movies and catch up.

Better now than never. She would probably think me crazy. "Hey, Ales. Could I talk to you for a second?"

Ales groaned and shoved another handful of M&Ms in her mouth. "Mali, we're at the good part." She motioned towards the tv. "Kerry is about to figure out if her husband's cheated on her with her sister."

"This is serious, Ales."

She turned to me then, her mouth still crunching. "I'm all ears."

It was quite easy to explain to her, as she soaked everything in quietly, only stopping to ask me questions here and there.

"Are you kidding me right now?" Alesandra clasped her hands together and frowned. "Please tell me you're not joking."

I jumped off the couch and headed to the kitchen to grab something to eat.

I picked up a sealed bag of sandwich ham and stuffed a couple slices in my mouth, trying to balance the mayonnaise and bread in my hands. "I literally can call him now if you want."

Ales squinted her full amber eyes and surveyed me for a while before squealing in confirmation. "I've had a huge crush on him since I was 16, Malea. But back then it just seemed like a dream that would never come true. Why would Lucian King want to marry me when he could have any other girl he wants."

I mulled that over. Truly and honestly, I wasn't sure. Lucian did seem to have everything, and everyone wrapped around his pinkie, so why would he be interested in someone like my best friend, or myself. "Not sure, Ales, but I can assure you, it's because his father gave him an ultimatum."

She took a seat on the sofa and tossed her head back, her long black hair grazing the baby blue sofa. "So, I'm supposed to believe a billionaire came up to you in a bar and confessed his life to you and then asked to marry me." She looked up at me then.

"Listen. I know this is really hard to believe and I'm not sure I even believe it myself. If you accept this, it'll make things so much easier for your family to get out of the debt you're in."

Alesandra's family had always been a little more than poor. With their highly accumulated debts, Alesandra had to move in with me and I had to pay more than half of the rent. But since she's my best friend, I've never questioned it once. If Ales agrees to this, her whole life could change for the better. Her family would no longer be in debt. She could be free and do what she wanted.

"But if it'll make you feel better, I'll call him for you." I reached for my phone on the counter, licking a glob of mayonnaise off my pointer finger. "Maybe you guys could talk a bit and you'll get to know what's happening right now."

She simply nodded and gulped, crossing the room back to where I stood.

It took about 5 rings before he picked up.

"Hello?" His voice came out a husky rasp as if he had picked up the phone while being half asleep.

Ales blushed. "Hello? It's me, Alesandra."

A rustle of sheets, the bed creaked. And then he cleared his throat. "Hi, Alesandra? Mind me asking, who are you?"

Alesandra's face fell. Then she scowled.

"This better be a joke, Suit and Tie." I replied back. How could he not know who Alesandra was? How could he forget everything we talked about?

A long silence. "Malea?"

"Great, your memory's back, now speak to her." I pressed speaker and shoved the phone into Ales's waiting hands.

"Um hi. It's me, Alesandra." She said again.

"Yeah hello, Alesandra. I'm really glad you agreed to this and all, but it's like 3 am, and I really would love to sleep. So..."

Her face fell once more. "Oh sure. Could we maybe meet up on Saturday to talk and get to know each other?" She asked nervously, bouncing from one foot to the other.

A long silence.

"Sure, Saturday. Dinner. 6 pm. I'll send my driver to bring you to the restaurant. Just text me your address and phone number on Malea's phone."

Ales nodded eagerly, a crooked, goofy, smile spreading across her full lips. "Of course. Bye."

He hadn't even bothered to say bye before he hung up.

"This is so surreal." Ales blew out a breath and collapsed on the couch. 

She just finished talking to Lucian and freaked out afterwards. "I'm going to bed, Ales." I rubbed my eyes and left her to her own thoughts. 

I have thoughts of my own.