Christain POV
“Christain, what is this?” My father’s voice thundered, jolting me awake.
My bedroom door suddenly slammed open, and I blinked, confused. Anger flushing my father’s face, he stood in the doorway. He was pointing his phone at me while holding it. I wiped my eyes and sat up, feeling very sleepy.
“Dad, what are you talking about?” With a look of intense rage in his eyes, he rushed towards my bed. He thrust his phone into my hands and exclaimed. “Look at this!” My stomach dropped when I saw the screen on the phone. It was a picture of me at a club, obviously drunk, with a girl very inexplicably draped over me. The image went viral, making news on gossip websites.
I ran a hand through my hair, attempting to think of a reason. “Dad, I can explain —“
He interrupted, his voice trembling with rage, “Explain?!” “Christain, this is not acceptable! It’s not a tabloid scandal; you are meant to be Morales Enterprises’ future!” I could see the disappointment in his eyes than the anger.
“I am sorry,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Sorry isn’t enough,” he yelled. “Can you imagine how this might affect our reputation? To the company.
I felt an array of frustration and guilt as I glanced down at the picture again. “I did not mean for this to happen. It was just one night.”
“One night can ruin everything,” he said, his voice stern but ever-so-soft. “I have dedicated my entire life to starting this business from the ground up. Furthermore, I need to know that you are capable of assuming leadership as I get closer to retirement."
I met his gaze. “I can handle it," I insisted.
He posed the question, "Can you?" "Because right now, it doesn't look like it."
I started to argue, but he stopped me with a hand gesture. Something has to be done to prove your commitment and stability.”
I frowned, unsure of what he was getting at. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you need to get married,” he said bluntly. “You need to settle down and stop roaming around. Besides you’re already thirty. It’s time.”
“I am twenty-six, Dad,” I corrected him, my frustration growing. “And marriage shouldn’t be something done for appearances.”
“This isn’t about what you want Christain,” he said coldly. “It’s about what the company needs. You have three months to find someone willing to marry you. If you can’t meet this condition, the company will be put up for sale.”
“Three months?” I exclaimed. “That’s insane! Give me at least a year to find someone.”
“A year? Do you think the board will wait that long? Absolutely not,” he snapped. “Three months, and not a day more.”
“Six months, then,” I pleaded. “At least give me six months to make this work. Three months is impossible.”
My father gave me a hard look, his face displaying an array of resolve and disappointment. “You are a Morales, Christain. How is three months impossible for you? Use your charm. You know how many girls are willing to be with you. This should be easy.”
Frustration shot through me. “Finding someone to marry isn't the same as finding someone to date casually. It needs to be real.”
“Real or not, it needs to happen,” he said firmly. “You’ve got six months. Use every resource you have. Make it work.”
As he left the room, I collapsed back on my bed, feeling a headache coming on. How was I supposed to find someone willing to marry me on short notice? I was perfectly fine with the way I was living my life until the media came to ruin it. If only money could buy me a girlfriend, I thought wistfully.
Then it hit me.
I’ll find a woman, hire her to date, and marry me for six months, and once my dad hands over the company to me, fake a breakup, and then claim I was too heartbroken to move on. That way I wouldn’t be forced into a marriage with a stranger and I would be allowed to stay single until I am ready to fully settle down. Just like Dad said, “This should be easy.”
