Audrey

Shocked.

I was often shocked when it came to Micheal, but this definitely tops it.

I try my hardest not to scream. Instead, I ball my fists and squeeze tightly. "What is wrong with you?"

He stands up from behind my desk and smiles. "I'll have to get back to you on that one, sweetcakes."

He begins walking out of my office. This only increases my anger. "Where are you going?"

"Let's talk in the break room." He says.

How the hell does he know where the break room is?

Curiosity rising inside of me, I follow behind him. When we reach the break room, I take a seat at one of the far off tables. Micheal sits across from me.

"Let me explain."

"Two minutes." I reply through gritted teeth.

"All right, look. Ever since Dante decided to be a good person or whatever, this mafia has been all over the place. Do you know how many 'gifts' I've received?"

"What's wrong with—"

"There were heads inside, Carina!"

"Jesus—" I pause as I am about to speak. I lean forward, checking my surroundings first. "How do you know my real name?" I whisper.

He shrugs. "That's irrelevant. The point is; I'm obviously the perfect fit for the job."

I roll my eyes, becoming irritated. "Micheal, how do you know my real name?"

He leans forward, his lips only inches away from mine. Micheal places his arms on the table. He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, causing me to flinch. "Promise you'll take my offer into consideration?"

His touch distracted me. It sent my mind haywire, almost making me forget my question.

Almost.

I nod as he sets his hand back on the table. "Fine."

He sits back in his seat. An unreadable expression rests on his face. "We went to school together. You were my best friend. I had a big crush on you for years. I finally had the balls to tell you when we got to eleventh grade. I gave a big speech in the hallway, declaring my love for like a fucking idiot in front of half the school. You rejected me and disappeared. When I saw you again with Diana, your name was Audrey Jenkins. Can we move on now?"

Oh my god.

How could I forget?

Micheal was my childhood best friend. We met in second grade. At that time, I was shy and afraid of everything. One day, I accidentally threw a pencil at one of our classmates, trying to toss it in the trash. My parents were very strict. All A's, no back talk, clean room at all times. They tolerated nothing.

No one knew who threw the pencil and there was no way in hell I was going to admit it. I knew how bad my punishment was going to be if my parents found out. But just as I was about to confess, Micheal stood up and took the blame for it. Because the girl's eye was injured, the teacher gave him more homework than us and he was sent home. When he returned, I thanked him and he only smiled. Even at that time, his smile did something to me. We became friends after that and remained inseparable throughout the years. That is, until eleventh grade. The worst year of my fucking life.

I clear my throat, deciding not to think any further about that. I had erased all memories of it from my mind. Now they were all returning.

"I've thought about it. The answer is no. Leave Michael. Now."

He folds his arms. His tongue goes to the side of the inside of his cheek. "Why?"

I roll my eyes. "Why is no never enough for you? You don't handle rejection well."

"I think I handle it pretty good. Considering my best friend of nearly eight years rejected me and disappeared with no explanation, I think I turned out alright. Don't you?"

I gulp, guilt forming inside of me. "Michael—"

"Why don't you want to be my wife, sweetcakes?"

"Stop calling me that."

"What do you want? Money? Dick?" He leans forward. "You want some dick, Carina?"

My heart rate quickens at that. My eyes trail down his body, heat rising from my stomach to chest as I think about what it would be like. Memories of gazing at him across the classroom form in my head. Thinking, hoping, he would touch me in more than a friend way.

Micheal adjusts himself, lifting his hips. I bite my lip, catching a glimpse of his size. "Fuck, Carina—"

"No." I shake my head and rub my hands together, trying to calm my racing heart. I close my eyes and exhale a deep breath. "No. I don't want that. I'm declining your offer because it's insane, Michael."

"Everybody needs a little insanity in their life."

"No."

"Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."

I frown in curiosity. "Whatever I want?"

"Yes."

I lean forward and smile. "Half a million dollars." I demand, curious to see if he'll oblige.

His unreadable expression remains the same. He reaches for something in his pocket and, a second later, sets a black card on the table. My mouth goes agape as I stare at it.

"There's half a million dollars on that card?"

"Five million, to be exact."

"How do you—"

"Your father is searching my brother's house as we speak. I'd rather not tell you how I make my money."

"Right."

It seemed like that was all anyone ever knew me by. The chief's daughter. Sometimes, it made me miss being Carina Nunez. At least I was my own person. Audrey Jenkins just stands behind her father's shadow.

"Anything else?" He asks.

"A library."

"I can make that happen."

My eyes widen. "You can?"

"Is that a yes to my offer?"

I sit back in my seat. "I need to think about it."

He smiles and stands up. "Now we're getting somewhere."

Micheal walks to the coffee pot and grabs a mug. He pours it until it reaches half of the pot. He takes two scoops of sugar, two creamers, just a bit of milk and pours it into the cup. When he brings it to me, I frown. "That's exactly how I like my coffee."

"I know." He replies as I accept it.

Micheal returns to his seat and brings his gaze back to me. He stares at me with a look so intense I can't even concentrate on drinking my coffee.

"Stop looking at me like that, Michael."

"Nah. I think I'll pass on that one."

"When did you become so… bold?"

He shrugs and grins. "When a certain woman broke my heart and left me."

I blow a breath. "Are you ever going to stop talking about that?"

"Are you gonna tell me why you disappeared?"

"No.

"Then no I'm not."

We stare at each other for a while. With each passing second, heat rises inside of me. The sun hits the window and reflects on him. This makes his russet, reddish-brown skin gleaming, making his features more visible. His jet black curly hair had sat on his head neatly, each strand looking as if it had been perfectly curled. I wanted to touch it, run my hand through it as I used to do.

When we were younger, many people used to make fun of his body. They often described him as 'too skinny' or that he looked sick. It always angered me because I knew how insecure he was about it. Now he is nowhere near that. His chest is toned, visible through the white tank top he wore. He was tall, at least six-four. Micheal was confident and intimidating now. As much as his gigantic ego annoyed me, it flustered me just as much.

"Your hair grew." I manage to say after a while, as if it isn't obvious.

"Other things grew as well."

I gulp at what he is implying. Clearing my throat, I look away. "When I said I needed to think about it, I meant alone, Micheal."

He nods and stands up. Micheal removes a lighter from his pocket as he walks away. "Remember," he says. "Being my wife has a lot of benefits, Carina. Emotionally and physically." He finishes, leaving the break room.

I can finally breathe correctly. I exhale a deep breath and take a sip of coffee before setting it on the table.

There were only two options: I could go with the more reasonable and safe option. It guaranteed stability. Or I could with the insane, unpredictable and just all around impractical option. Even when we're kids, I could never predict what Michael would do. But right now, that excites me.

My life is so utterly boring, I consider buying dinner instead of takeout as having fun. I needed to do something extravagant. An arranged marriage to Michael was exactly what I needed.

I stand up from my chair and place my cup in the microwave. I grab my jacket from my office before making my way outside. I find Micheal leaning against the side of the wall of the building. He holds a blunt between his fingers. Micheal inhales the smoke and holds it in his mouth for a few seconds before exhaling.

"You want a hit, sweetcakes?" He asks. I hadn't even realized he noticed me.

I roll my eyes and hesitate before walking to him. "No thank you."

He shakes his head and chuckles. "I knew it."

I frown, leaning against the wall next to him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You've always been a goodie-two-shoes Carina."

I reach for the blunt, highly offended, but he moves it away. "Cool it there, grasshopper."

"Give it to me." I demand, wanting to prove myself.

"Love it when you talk dirty to me." He says, his eyes starting to redden and droop. He holds the blunt up to my mouth. "Ready?"

I smirk. "How hard can it be?"

He chuckles again and moves it closer. We remain in eye contact as I take a hit of the blunt. The smoke hitting me too hard, I begin coughing. He moves it away, his eyebrows narrowing. "Can you handle it?"

When I calm down, I nod and gesture for him to bring it back to my lips. "Yes. Let me try again."

Micheal brings the blunt back to my mouth. He watches me as I take another hit. I grow proud of myself when I don't cough.

"Hold it in." He whispers.

I follow his instruction and hold it in until he moves the blunt away, signaling for me to exhale. The smoke hits his face as he smiles softly. "Good girl."

I bite back my smile. Micheal taps the side of it, causing ashes to fall to the ground. He drops the blunt and steps on it. My eyebrows narrow when he starts to walk to his car. "What are you doing?"

His back to me, he holds up two fingers. "Going home. Don't think about me too much, Carina." He drops his fingers and turns around. He laughs. "My apologies. It's Audrey Jenkins now."

I cross my arms. "What about my answer to your idiotic offer?"

He shrugs, unlocking his car. "Whenever you decide—"

"Yes." I respond, faster than I should have. I exhale a deep breath. "Yes. I accept your offer."

He smiles and points at me. "There's my girl!" Micheal opens his car door as I try to keep a straight face. "I'll pick you up tomorrow morning to sign the papers."

"How do you know where I live?"

He shrugs and closes the door. "Because you're my wife. Duh."

"But—"

"Eleven-thirty!" He shouts, driving away.

Ya mi estoy arrepintiendo de esto.