Chapter 3

Chapter 003

As soon as our eyes met, I stopped in my tracks, breathing rapidly but trying not to breathe deeply as my throat constricted with anxiety—suddenly forgetting why I was standing there at all.

My brain registered that first and foremost. His gray eyes met mine, sharp and unreadable. As my focus broadened, so too did his stature: towering at least a foot taller than I with broad shoulders filling out his crisp suit like it was tailored just for him, perfectly styled thick black hair was not one strand out of place, and lips somewhere between full and thin perfectly balanced his figure out.

The light caught his tanned skin, rendering him even more surreal. My fingers itched to touch his clean-shaven jawline—something that was impossible—as his perfection seemed almost too perfect to be real.

Once they had done looking me over, he asked, "Can we start the business side?" His tone was calm and dispassionate, as though this were something they'd done many times before.

Heat suddenly rushed through my body as I quickly emerged from whatever stupor I'd fallen into and grabbed his chair in front of him.

"Sorry," I apologized, mumbling, my eyes darting towards the desk between us.

After watched me for several seconds before finally sitting himself down.

"Are you the person my father owes money?" I stammered.

My only response was a smirk.

"Please, can you extend our deadline a bit further? This is a lot of money, and we only just found out—" I responded by asking them for more time to finalize the agreement.

"Not my issue, Miss van Dijk." His words cut through my defenses without hesitation.

"Your father's payment is due by the end of this week; otherwise, he risks jail for breaching his contract.

Jail.

My stomach tightened at the sound of that word, sending waves of fear through me at what seemed an injustice done to my father that wasn't his responsibility. Blinking hard, I fought back tears as much as possible because weakness wouldn't do me any good here.

"But," she interrupted, "aren't you aware of the alternative?" His gaze did not falter for an instant.

"Again," I felt myself stiffen. Although my alternative option was clear to me, giving up control of my life to someone else wasn't a solution; rather, it would only end in disaster.

"Yes," I conceded with a soft voice. "But marriage? That's insane.

"Soon enough I'll come back by at the end of this week with either your money or maybe with your father in jail.

His tone sent shudders down my spine.

"Wait!" my words fell without control. "Can I have some time to consider this?"

He didn't say a word; he just moved a folder across the desk.

"Your contract details are enclosed. Tomorrow morning, you'll be taken back here with an answer."

As I reached for his folder, his voice resonated again.

"Make wise choices, Lena."

As I met his eyes one last time before leaving his company for good, the relief I expected never materialized.

I was stunned at how amazing the suite was; for an instant, I forgot why I was here at all—floor-to-ceiling windows, luxurious furniture, and the softest bed I'd ever encountered were breathtaking sights indeed.

Unfortunately, I wasn't in the right mindset to enjoy it fully.

Dinner was light. Not that I had much of an appetite.

After I took a shower, I curled up under the covers, staring at my folder.

Casper Vermeer.

His name sat prominently at the top of the first page, commanding my attention as though it meant something.

C.V. Everything was in place: flowers and calls were coming in; he was the mastermind.

I pushed aside that thought and focused on the contract: marriage as a legally binding contract designed for public display. I would become the trophy wife everyone would talk about. In exchange, I'd receive money, security, and luxurious goods most could only dream about.

However, at least there was no clause regarding an heir.

Unknowingly, I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding in.

Still, I couldn't sign anything until I saw him again and got his confirmation of signing my name to something.

Sleep eventually did its work, yet my dreams provided no escape route.

At 8 AM exactly, a knock jarred me out of my thoughts.

I opened the door and saw a man wearing a suit—one of Casper's, no doubt.

"Good morning, ma'am. Your boss has asked that you join him for breakfast in his penthouse suite."

Requested. More accurately summoned.

As I grabbed my phone and folder, I gave myself one last glance in the mirror. My jeans and long-sleeved polo clung slightly too well around my hips, while my chest seemed fuller than expected.

Perfect. Just what I needed.

The penthouse was just as lavish, yet boasted an incredible view from up here. Massive windows made the space seem unreal, flooded with soft morning light. Gold and white decor combined with spotless floors created an aura of discreet luxury.

At first sight he appeared serene—sitting at the dining table, working diligently on an important document while sipping black coffee like there was plenty of time in his schedule to complete it all.

"Good morning." I hesitated. "Yes."

"Morning. Did you sleep well?" He barely glanced up from his workstation.

"Yes, thank you." My fingers pounded against the chair in front of me as my answer.

"Sit." I complied, yet his eyes briefly glanced over me before quickly turning back to his tablet.

Silence spread. Our maids served breakfast. We ate. But not one word was spoken between us.

"Enough.

I cleared my throat. "I have made my decision."

Just a slight pause was all that was observed. No actions were taken in response.

"I can do it," I answered with confidence in my voice, although my hands felt weaker than they appeared.

He looked back up. "What are we supposed to do now?" he finally asked himself.

"Yes. Marry you." A light chuckle came over him as though he already knew my answer would be positive.

"Well done," I replied in agreement. "However, as soon as we sign, my father's debt will be extinguished." I insisted.

"Affirmative." So, is that what happened?

My phone rang, breaking the tension.

Noortje was quickly filled with joy when his face filled the screen—we shared an amusing selfie, my lips pressing against his cheek.

"Please excuse me; I must take this."

He waved his hand lazily. "Go ahead. Feel free."

"Hello, Noortje. What can you tell me?" I picked up the phone.

"Lena! Where have you gone?" His voice was tight with worry. "Sanne has been searching for you! Come back quickly!"

"I'm in Amsterdam.

"Amsterdam? What—how?!" Before I could reply, Casper grabbed the phone out of my hands, ended the call, and set it back down on the table.

"What the hell?! That was rude!" I exclaimed in dismay.

"That call was just a distraction; please sign the contract now."

Cramping my jaw tight, I wanted to argue and throw the pen in his face but knew better. Instead, I grabbed it, scrawled my signature, and watched as he did the same.

"Dinner starts at 7," I was informed, standing ready to depart. Until dinner came. At seven I received another text message reminding me to be prepared.

As soon as I was out of sight, I dashed back into my suite, shouting Dutch curses under my breath.

Who did he think he was!?

As I reached for my phone, Noortje didn't answer, so I sent her a text instead.

We need to have a conversation. Let me explain later on.

My hands shook as I placed the phone back down.

I had just signed away my life.

Mijn God is on my side.