I walk in after hearing the final, sickening exchange. My father looks at me, his eyes wet with happiness.
"You will make a beautiful bride, TT," Leif says, using the one nickname only he is allowed to use.
I purse my lips, trying to conjure a natural expression of happiness. "Thank you, Dad." I don't feel good lying to him, but what other choice do I have? It's better than watching him look sad while his gym is repossessed.
Seth walks over and whispers something into Vega's ear.
Vega stands up, the picture of a busy, devoted man. "I can't stay for long, I have to get back to work. I will see you in two days."
Leif rises slowly, still leaning heavily on the table. "No problem, son. It was a pleasure meeting you."
"Likewise," Vega replies, shaking my father's hand one last time.
"Let me walk him out," I offer instantly, seizing the chance to escape my father's gaze and get Vega alone.
Leif waves us off, his smile huge. "You go ahead, you lovebirds."
The word "lovebirds" makes me shiver all over. Who is lovebirds with whom?
I walk out, and as soon as I close the door and know my father is far away from earshot, I turn, ready to tear into him.
"You—" I start, but Vega interrupts me, his voice low and dangerous.
"Don't ever put me in that position ever again."
I'm flabbergasted, mostly because Vega's face looks genuinely repulsed, as if he had eaten shit. Fuck, I swear internally. That face, so perfect and now so dramatically disgusted, looks even more tempting to punch.
"I hate lying," Vega states, his jaw tight. "And even worse, I hate being lied to."
I want to snort. This man, who just fabricated his feelings towards me to emotionally manipulate my father, is talking about a moral code. But when I meet his cold gaze, I hold my tongue. The threat beneath his calm is real.
Vega slides his sunglasses on and walks toward his waiting car. He takes a few steps, then suddenly turns back, stopping me cold with his final warning.
"If you touch me again in the future, there will be consequences."
I really want to scoff now, to release the sharp, hysterical laugh bubbling in my throat. But I remember who this is. The man who just paid off my father's debts and, more importantly, lied on my behalf to protect my father's heart.
"Sure," I manage, the single word tight and obedient.
Vega's gaze lingers on me for a few seconds. It's an evaluation, a threat, a promise of future misery all rolled into one cold look. It makes me feel like a thousand ants are gnawing at my back. He then gets into his car. A bodyguard, silent and efficient, closes the door.
Seth, who has been waiting patiently on the side, approaches me. He is no longer flinching, but he maintains a respectful distance. He hands me a thick, cream-colored envelope.
"There is a card in there," Seth says, his voice professional. "Please find something presentable to wear at the ceremony. A car will be sent for you to come at the courthouse in two days."
I take the envelope. The news of the shotgun wedding is startling, but I hide it. I already decided I'm going to commit to this role.
"Any color matches?" I ask, my tone deliberately light, as if this is a normal wedding. "So we can look like a happy couple."
I am determined to sell this fake relationship. The money has already been taken, and my father is stress free. It is only right that I work for it.
Seth looks slightly uncomfortable. "No need. Anything is fine."
"Okay," I say, already weighing the envelope in my hand. I start to look inside.
Seth takes out a sleek, black business card and hands it to me. "My business card. Contact me if you have any problems."
"Thanks," I say, taking the sleek business card from Seth. It feels cool and heavy in my palm.
Just then, the car window lowers, and Vega's voice slices through the air. "Seth."
Seth jumps. "Oh, sorry. I will get going."
I smile slightly, a twitch of genuine amusement. I watch as Seth hurriedly gets into the car like his butt is on fire, practically diving into the passenger seat. It's as though if he didn't get in fast enough, he would lose a piece of flesh.
I let out a soft sigh as the caravan of black cars drives away. The show is over, but my torment has just begun.
I turn and walk back inside the gym. The repair crew is still working, the sounds of hammering a dull reassurance. I walk to the small dining table and empty the contents of the envelope onto the wood.
A few things spill out. A shiny black credit card, the official marriage registration list of requirements from the courthouse, and a small, heavy velvet box.
I pick up the box, my fingers oddly steady, and open it.
I almost drop it.
Inside, nestled on a bed of silk, is a ring that blinds me. It's a massive 20-carat emerald-cut diamond, flanked by two trapezoid accent stones, all set in a platinum band that seems to defy gravity. The sheer weight and brilliance of the stone are unbelievable.
Shit, I swear under my breath. This couldn't be less than half a million dollars sitting on my finger. Now, holding this monstrous symbol of wealth and commitment, I realize that I might have well and truly bit off more than I could chew.
"That's a gorgeous ring."
My father's voice startles me, right from behind my shoulder. I instinctively smile slightly, but inside, my heart is pounding hard against my ribs.
***
I stand in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the thin strap of the dress on my shoulder. The silk feels cool and alien against my skin.
I'm wearing a flowing white slip dress. I had wanted to choose something less conspicuous, a blue dress , maybe but my father had insisted I wore white.
The hair and makeup artist I hired has just left, taking the chaos of brushes and tools with her. I lean down and start working on the buckles of my strappy heels.
Just as I finish the first one, my father knocks on the door.