As I maneuvered my sleek black car to a halt before the imposing structure of the Michaelson Mansion, a sense of anticipation coursed through my veins.
The evening air was thick with tension, and I could feel the weight of the world resting on my shoulders.
Dressed in an ensemble that matched the darkness of my intentions, I donned a stylish black hat that cast a shadow over my face, black sunglasses that concealed my piercing gaze,
and a long black coat that billowed slightly behind me as I strode confidently toward the mansion's grand entrance.
Accompanying me was Reid, my ever-loyal confidant. I had made him swear an oath of silence earlier in the day, ensuring that not a single word would escape his lips about our true purpose for being here.
I felt a shiver of excitement as the massive door swung open, revealing an exquisite vision standing in the threshold.
That must be Amanda, I thought, recognizing her instantly. She held a bright lollipop in her hand, a curious juxtaposition to her striking appearance.
Her attire was anything but conventional, she sported a pair of bum-short jeans that hugged her curves in a tantalizing embrace and a fitted black sleeveless shirt, emphasizing her flawless figure.
As she licked her lollipop with sensuality, her cherry-red lips shone seductively in the soft light, drawing my attention as if they were a magnet.
Her cheeks, flushed with a delicate pink hue, lent her an innocent look that belied her bold demeanor. Long, lustrous brunette hair cascaded smoothly over her shoulders, framing her face beautifully.
Her eyes, a captivating shade of brown, sparkled with a feline allure, starkly contrasting with my own sea-blue ones. I couldn't help but think that she was even more breathtaking now than I remembered from our earlier encounters.
Memories flooded back of her teasing me relentlessly, telling me I was not her type, that someone like me could never win her heart.
Those were the days of youth and playful banter, but that seemed like a lifetime ago now.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, her voice a mix of curiosity and annoyance.
"Out of my way," I replied coolly, shouldering past her with a push that might have seemed brutish to anyone else, but it was just a careful measure of defiance as Reid trailed behind me.
"Hey, Moron, you just waltz in here like you own the place! I see nothing's changed about you, still being a Dick, huh?" Her words cut through the air, sharp and accusatory.
The challenge in her tone ignited a fire within me, and I seized the moment. I twisted her wrist, eliciting a yelp of surprise.
"Argh! Let me go!" she cried, but I merely smirked, relishing the playful confrontation.
"Oh, you think it's that easy to get away? Think again," I teased, pushing her back lightly but firmly.
At that moment, her brother CJ appeared, eyes wide in disbelief, as if he could hardly believe he was witnessing this encounter.
I lounged lazily on the plush sofa, crossing my legs casually as I flashed him a sardonic grin.
"Hi," I greeted him, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
Before long, Mr. and Mrs. Michaelson, the esteemed Stella and the imposing Herbert, entered the room, their presence commanding immediate respect.
"Serve me something hard this instant," I ordered the maid with a wave of my hand, who then dashed away like a frightened rabbit at the sound of my voice.
"Killian," Mr. Michaelson said, his steps echoing a mixture of authority and concern as he approached me.
"I'm truly sorry to hear about the recent news, but rest assured, I had no part in it. I was actually set to meet with him."
As the maid returned with a glass of whisky, I hesitated, briefly wavering in my trust. I instructed her to sip it first, watching her intently.
When nothing amiss happened, I took my own sip, savoring the warming burn of the alcohol.
"I came here with a proposal," I announced, letting the words hang in the air like a thick fog.
"What kind of proposal?" Stella's voice trembled with trepidation, concern etched across her brow.
Amanda, unable to hide her disbelief, scoffed loudly, and I couldn't help but find her reaction amusing.
She was intriguing in a way that made me want to keep pushing her buttons.
"I intend to make the Michaelson Group wealthier than it has ever been. I'll gift your family three luxurious villas,
provide a share in Drake's estate and company, and I'll provide a staggering nine hundred million dollars, all if I get the opportunity to marry Amanda." There it was, the bold declaration hanging in the air like the sound of a gavel striking wood in a courtroom.
"What!" Amanda gasped, laughter mixed with incredulity.
"I'm only eighteen! Absolutely not! I'd never marry a jerk like you!"
"Hush, Amanda. Show some decorum," Stella reprimanded gently, as she attempted to rein in her daughter's fiery spirit.
"Mr. Drake, that is indeed a generous offer, but you both are still far too young for such commitments."
"Consider it! I am the heir to the Drake Conglomerate. Marriage isn't just a dream; it's a necessity. And you two are the only family I trust," I implored, my conviction unwavering.
"Dad, he's talking nonsense! How could I possibly consider marriage at this age?" Amanda protested passionately.
"Let's strike a deal that allows you to keep this little secret until I'm ready to make an official announcement about our marriage," I proposed, my voice smooth and persuasive.
"This offer is grander than you can imagine, and relax, sweetheart; I'll always be around to check in on you. Your mother and I were wed young as well," Herbert chimed in, trying to ease the tension further.
"Dad, please think this through! What if…" CJ's concern was swiftly silenced by their father's booming voice.
"Enough! Can't you see this is for her own good?" he shouted, his frustration and passion filling the room.
I relished the unfolding drama, watching as Amanda's defiance persisted, yet her family seemed to lean toward accepting my audacious proposal.
She sent me a withering glare that could have melted iron, but I merely smirked in response, enjoying every minute of her displeasure.
In the end, the Michaelsons signed the contract, making the bond between our families official in a way that none of them truly understood.
Rising to my feet, I turned to Amanda with a devilish grin.
"Come on, wifey, let's go get our marriage certificate," I declared, a mischievous gleam in my eye.
"Fuck you!" she retorted, and I nodded, knowing this was merely the beginning of a whirlwind that neither of us could prepare for.