Back in her hotel room, Katherine stretched across the bed without even bothering to change from her day dress. The sea breeze filtered faintly through the balcony doors, but her mind was already pulled back toward the world she was supposed to be escaping.
Her phone buzzed. Aunt Margaret.
Katherine debated ignoring it. But if she didn't pick up, the woman would only keep calling. With a sigh, she answered.
"Sweetheart," her aunt's voice came warm, affectionate, and full of the patience Katherine never found anywhere else in her family. "You sound tired."
"I am," Katherine admitted. "I came here to rest, but it feels like resting is impossible."
"You're trying to hold too much on your own," Aunt Margaret said, matter-of-fact. "You've done a remarkable job these past four months, but you know how they see you, don't you?"
Katherine closed her eyes. "They see me as temporary. Like I'm just sitting in the chair until someone else takes it from me."
"Exactly. They won't say it outright, but you know how this family works. If you don't look untouchable, they'll eat you alive."
"I know."
There was a pause, then her aunt's voice softened. "Katherine, maybe it's time you consider marriage."
Katherine sat up, startled. "Marriage? Auntie—"
"Listen to me. You don't have to love him. You just need someone at your side. Someone who makes them shut their mouths. Right now, they think you're alone. Vulnerable. Having a husband, even in name, would make them think twice. It buys you breathing space."
The words dug deeper than Katherine wanted to admit. She pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly.
"Just… think about it," Aunt Margaret urged. "Any man would do, as long as he looks the part."
They hung up not long after, but Katherine couldn't shake the thought. Any man. The phrase rattled around her head as she stared at the ceiling. She thought of her uncles, her cousins, the board members with their smug smiles. The way they'd whispered about her in hallways, questioning her every move.
And then, unbidden, a face came to mind.
Not her late father. Not any suitor her family would have paraded before her.
No. Him.
The man by the sea. Alessandro.
Ridiculous, she thought. Utterly ridiculous. But once the thought had formed, it refused to leave.
The next morning, she sat at the desk in her suite, opened her laptop, and began to type. It felt almost absurd—more absurd than anything she had done in her career—but each line gave her a strange sense of control. By the time she was finished, she had a neatly formatted document. A marriage contract.
Clause 1: No real affection required.
Clause 2: Public appearances are mandatory when requested.
Clause 3: Divorce option available after three to five years, depending on necessity.
Clause 4: Monthly compensation: €500,000.
Clause 5: Confidentiality is absolute.
Katherine stared at it for a long moment, then printed two copies.
The problem was finding him.
For two days, she returned to the seaside cafés, the walkways near the water, even the quiet spots where she thought he might linger. Nothing. Each time she left, a flicker of doubt crept deeper—what kind of person chases down a stranger with a marriage contract?
But on the third day, she saw him.
Seated on a stone bench overlooking the harbor, hands in his pockets, looking like he had all the time in the world.
Relief, frustration, and something else—something she didn't name—washed through her. She squared her shoulders and walked straight toward him.
"Took you long enough," she said dryly when she stopped in front of him.
He looked up, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You were looking for me?"
"Don't flatter yourself." She slid into the space beside him before she could lose her nerve. "But yes."
He studied her face, unbothered. "And why is that?"
Katherine reached into her bag and drew out the folder. She set it on his lap with deliberate precision. "Because I have a proposal."
His brows lifted slightly. He opened the folder, skimmed the first page, then glanced back at her. "A contract."
"A marriage contract," she clarified.
He leaned back, and though his expression remained calm, there was something in the way he read each clause that unsettled her.
"No affection required," he murmured, scanning. "Appearances when needed. Divorce clause. Half a million euros monthly." He gave a low whistle, not mocking but mildly impressed. "That's generous."
"It's practical," she said firmly. "You'd be compensated fairly, and I… I'd get silence from my family. That's all I need."
"Silence?"
She hesitated, then explained just enough. "They don't think I can handle what my father left me. They think I'm too young, too alone. Marriage—on paper—shuts down half their arguments."
He studied her for a long moment, but asked nothing more. Instead, he flipped to the final page.
"You really don't waste time, do you?"
Katherine stiffened. "You don't have to sign. I'm not forcing you."
Instead of answering, he picked up the pen she had tucked into the folder, twirled it once between his fingers, and scrawled his name across the line without hesitation.
Katherine blinked. "Just like that?"
He closed the folder and handed it back to her. "Just like that."
For a second, she couldn't find her words. In her mind, she scoffed—men and money, always the same. Throw enough zeros in front of them and suddenly they're shameless.
Out loud, she said only, "Fine." She tucked the folder away, stood, and brushed down her skirt.
Alessandro tilted his head, watching her with quiet amusement. "So, what happens now, Katherine?"
"Now," she said crisply, "we play husband and wife."
He chuckled under his breath, standing with her. "Sounds simple enough."
But the smile he wore as they began walking back toward the town wasn't the smile of a man bought by money. It was the smile of someone intrigued—someone who had just found a game worth playing.
---
To be continued...