Chapter 242
MARCO-
I saw Loretta in the corridor and lifted both hands like I was surrendering to security.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not going to run into your food again.”
She narrowed her eyes.
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She had long, beautiful black hair. The same sharp look she always gave me. Same energy of a woman who would press charges over pasta.
“Do you have a minute?” I asked. “There’s something I want to ask you.”
She frowned. “What could this possibly be about?”
I sighed. “Just give me some of your time. Please.”
A few seconds passed. I could tell she wanted to say no.
Then she nodded, suspicious, like I had asked to borrow her car and might return it with a dent.
We went to the café.
She said she could get her own food.
I ordered anyway.
When it arrived, she was still happy. I had never seen a girl get this happy over food before. I did not know why that amused me this much. She looked at the plate like it was all she needed to feel joy.
She did not even wait for me to speak.
She started devouring everything at once.
I did not know why I enjoyed watching her eat.
It was a problem. A big problem.
She pointed a fork at me. “What is this about?”
I set my cup down.
“I want to make a contract with you.”
Good. Get straight to the point.
I was not sure if this was a good idea, but I was desperate to get out of the arrangement with Beatrice and Loretta seemed like the easiest way.
She did not like me. That would make it easier to get out when the year was up. If I did it with a fan, they might not want the divorce. I did not want it to be messy.
The Mockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife
She frowned. “I don’t even know you.”
“What type of contract is this? Does it concern food?”
Of course she would want it to be about food.
Maybe I could include free meals.
“A marriage contract.”
She stopped eating.
Stared at me like something was wrong with me mentally.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“No. I haven’t. I really need to enter a contract marriage. Preferably with someone who doesn’t like me. You are perfect for the job.”
She blinked once.
Twice.
Then she looked around the café.
“This has to be a joke. Where are the cameras? Am I going to be on TV? Is this one of those famous pranks?”
“It isn’t. No, there aren’t any cameras. No, you’re not going to be on TV. It isn’t a prank.”
She rolled her eyes hard. “I am not marrying you. Even if it’s on a contract. I don’t like you. Not even a little.”
“That’s why you’re perfect.”
“That is the worst sales pitch I have ever heard.”
“I’m being honest,”
“Be honest somewhere else.” She pulled the plate closer, as if I might confiscate it now that she had refused me. “You crash into my lunch twice and then propose. Do you hear yourself?”
“When you say it like that, it sounds worse.”
“It is worse.”
“There would be benefits.”
“Food benefits?”
I paused. “I could add food benefits.”
10:18 Thu, Oct 1.
The Mockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife
“No.”
ou didn’t even hear the terms.”
“I heard marriage. That was enough terms.”
She stood.
Grabbed her plate like it was a hostage she was rescuing.
“You’re insane.”
“I’ve been told.”
“And weird,” she added, as a parting gift.
“I said I was sorry about the food.”
“Say it to the food.”
She walked off.
I sat there with two coffees and a proposal that had lasted less than a minute.
I sighed.
I could not help watching her leave.
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Black hair swinging. Terrible manners. Zero interest in my last name. She had not even asked what it was.
The plan was still stupid.
Beatrice was still waiting for a date my mother insisted I take her on.
I paid and left before the barista asked if I was okay.
I went straight to the bar with hopes that alcohol would get rid of the stress.
Then I saw her.
Charlotte.
Stool at the end.
Crying.
Crying?
What the fuck?
I walked up to her quickly. Not giving it a second thought.
Stopped a few steps away, because she looked like if I said the wrong thing she would shatter.
10:18 Thu, Oct 1.
The Hockey Captam’s Unwanted Wife
Napkin in her fist. Drink untouched.
harlotte,” I said quietly.
She looked up.
Tried to wipe her face like I had not already seen it.
Too late.
My stomach dropped.
“Hey.” I kept my voice low. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
Which was not an answer.
“Did someone say something to you?” I asked. “My parents? I will handle it.”
Another head shake.
A tear she failed to hide.
I sat on the stool beside her without crowding her.
“Charlotte.” Softer. “Talk to me. You’re scaring me.”
She swallowed.
Looked at the lift.
Looked away.
Something was wrong, and I could tell immediately it had to do with Luca.
The only person who could put that look on her face.
I felt the worry settle in hard.
What the hell happened?
Dex Morgan
Dex works to elevate each story with clean writing, emotional balance, and thoughtful flow for readers.