Alpha Billionaire Series
Valentine’s Day Proposal Chapter 5

CHARLES

The car bumped over roads and through intersections. Peter hadn't told me where we were going, and I really didn't care. I sat scrolling social media, reading comments on some of the posts made by my team. It was good to see what the constituents were saying, even if I didn't agree or like their opinions. I represented the people who loved me and the people who hated me, and I needed to listen to every voice. They all mattered. "So, you're down in the polls again. I assume you haven't changed your mind about taking Nina up on her offer?" Peter chatted with me as if my desire to remain unwed was a talking point on a television talk show.

I rolled my eyes upward at him and shook my head. "I'm not changing my mind."

"Well good. I like a challenge." Peter grinned and I wondered what the f**k he meant. But before I could ask, the car stopped out front of a small apartment building. Businesses surrounded the unit that likely had only two or three flats in it. In Georgetown, everything seemed quaint, like an old college town with a touch of class and sophistication. I looked up at the windows of the building and decided it must have been one of the other shops around that he was aiming at. As he climbed out, he looked back at me, holding his briefcase.

"Coming?"

"You didn't say what we were doing. I didn't know I was needed to fill your cupcake order." I opened the door and stepped out, the driver keeping the car idling. "What are we doing in Georgetown? If you want more of those crostini this is the wrong street. We need M."

"Shut up and follow me," he said, gesturing at me. I rounded the front of the car and stepped up onto the curb. The air was crisp, but not frigid. We were only a week out from Valentine's Day and February was often the bitterest of months in DC. But today wasn't so bad. The temperature was supposed to reach above freezing at least.

I followed Peter to the tall brick building, painted white to cover the old decaying exterior. He pushed open the door and walked in, the warmth of the inner hallway greeting us. Without hesitation he bound up the steps two at a time to the second floor, so I kept pace with him, still not knowing what we were doing.

But when I saw the small wreath hanging on an apartment door-the very same apartment door that Peter was approaching-my feet turned to lead. The wreath was made of willow branches, fake ones that stayed green year-round, and had a tuxedo cat nestled in its center. I'd seen that same damn wreath for years of my life, hanging on a college dorm door.

"No." I told him, backing up. "Not happening."

I turned to go, but Peter knocked on the door. Her voice froze me on the top step. "Yeah?" She had called from the other side of the door, not yet open, as if she were expecting someone to visit. "It's open." "Ms. Suthers? It's Peter Bennet."

I wanted to just charge right down those stairs and get in the car, but Peter would be furious. He'd helped some of the most well-known politicians win their campaigns, and I had hired him to do that for me. If I didn't listen to him, he would just cut me loose and then who would run my campaign?

I heard the door creak open, and I couldn't bear to turn and look at her. Before I could even process it, the scent of lilacs and honey wafted out into the hallway, paralyzing me further. Her perfume. The way her lips tasted, the touch of her hands on my skin. "Mr. Bennet?" Willow's voice was sweet, timid even, as if she hadn't expected him. Had he planned to throw us together like a few caged animals? I turned to see her look up at me, the pain in her eyes was so deep and melancholy that I thought she'd start crying on the spot. "Charles?"

"Ms. Suthers, can I call you Willow? Willow, we came to discuss the arrangement I told you about?" Peter stood close to her, a little too close. I knew his tactic was to get into her apartment. He did that with voters, too, when we went door-to-door campaigning. It seems that some sentences in this chapter require you to read the complete chapters on Job ni b.com in order to avoid an incomplete reading experience. He'd back them right up until we were standing across the threshold, and they were feeling like they had to be hospitable. It worked, but it was sleazy. I wanted to rescue her from that.

Hell, I wanted to rescue her from every f*****g thing I ever did to her, but there we were staring at each other down the hall and I was frozen.

"S-sure..." As expected, Willow backed up, opening the door. When Peter had vanished into the room, I had no choice. I plodded down the hallway and into her apartment, reluctant. Each footstep felt like I wore lead weights.

Her place was simple, stylish as I remembered her to be, but much smaller than I would have thought from her. From what I could tell it was a one-bedroom place and it didn't even have a view. The kitchen, off to the right, was decked out in red-towels, dishes, decorations, even the rugs-a stark contrast to the cream and tan of the living room. Berber carpet stretched from wall to wall, large chunky furniture cluttering the center of the small space.

Peter didn't wait to be invited. He plopped himself on the armchair as if he owned the place and Willow hovered by the door until I positioned myself in front of the sofa, all the way to the far end. The way she bit her lip as she shuffled over to us made me smile. She did that when she was nervous-like the time she had to drive home from my parents' house after Thanksgiving one year on snowy roads. I'd had a few drinks and I couldn't drive her.

I shook the memory from my head and sat as she did, both of us staring at Peter like he was the mediator of the war that would spontaneously break out if either of us spoke first. He set his briefcase on the cherry wood coffee table, popping it open. He rifled for a moment, not saying anything, and extracted some papers. When his head popped up and the briefcase closed, he smiled.

"Here it is." He stood and offered each of us a stack of papers. Then he sat and waited.

My eyes scanned over the document I told him I'd never agree to. Willow sat quietly reading each page. I grew more and more frustrated until I couldn't take it anymore. I slapped the papers on the table in front of me, making a scene, and felt like my head would explode.

"How many times do I have to say no?" I glared at Peter, who sat calmly, as if he hadn't just gone completely against my will. "A marriage contract?"

"Charles, just read the damn thing." Peter sat forward, touching his fingertips together.

"I'm not marrying her."

Willow scoffed, tossing her packet of papers onto the table next to mine. "Peter, you made it sound like I'd be helping him, as if he wanted this. He isn't even interested. Why would I care to help him at all?"

"Not interested?" I stood, hurt by her accusation. She had no idea if I was interested in marrying her or not. She hadn't spoken to me in seven years. "Who's the one that's not interested? I came after you and you were gone. Vanished." I rose to my feet and started pacing.

"You wouldn't have had to come after me if you hadn't been the asshole of the fucking century." Willow rose too, walking around behind Peter's chair and leaning on it. She stood behind him as if she needed protection and he was her bodyguard. I saw the fury in her eyes, that angry flicker that told me she wanted to fight. She hadn't changed a bit.

"Goddammit, Willow. I tried to make it right."

"Did you? You piece of shit! You broke my heart. Get out of my house."

Peter rose to his feet, holding a hand in my direction and one in hers. "Guys, sit down. Let's act like grownups."

Willow scowled at him, and I stopped pacing, but I refused to sit. I hadn't even asked to come here. He violated my wishes.

"Clause 15-marriage of convenience. No love, no strings attached. Clause 27-payment of two-hundred thousand to be paid to Willow Suthers upon termination of the contract, which shall happen no more than six months after the election is over, win or lose." Willow's chest, once heaving because of her anger at me, calmed. Her eyes blinked slowly as Peter spoke. The weight of that sum of money sinking in right before my eyes. Of course, it was a lot to her. She probably built her accounting firm singlehandedly and never thought in a million years she'd see that type of money in one chunk.

Neither of us spoke again. We stood glaring at each other. If I followed Peter's advice, at least Willow would have the money she needed to really grow her accounting firm. It was just an arrangement, right? No love or messy emotions. I wouldn't risk hurting or being hurt again. She knew it was just for business, and so did I.

"Fine. I'll sign." She scowled at me. "But no love. And when the election is over, I'm out."

By the time we left, Willow and I had argued at least a half-dozen more times, but she signed the contract and agreed to a closed ceremony at my place on Valentine's Day. Talk about a surprise Valentine.