Name: Arranged Marriage To Mr. Billionaire
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Chapter 1 Chapter 1

AURORA.

"You won't have to see him again for the rest of your life, Bonita." My Abuela's words rang in my ear for the hundredth time. "You just have to marry him."

If only it were that easy. I tapped my stiletto against the tiled floor, keeping my face downwards. The quicker we got this done, the quicker I could get on with my life. On a normal day, I would have run in the other direction. I mean, I still wanted to, but after my parents died a year ago, my Abuela thought starting a new life would be the best for me.

However, I did not see how marrying a man I didn't know would help me achieve that.

I tried not to think about the fact that I was seconds away from signing my life over to some stranger I'd only just met today, and instead focused on the ridiculous amount of people going in and out of the marriage registration office at City Hall. For goodness's sake, I was only twenty-five. Why was I making such a mistake? I swallowed again, my throat dryer than the freaking Sahara.

It's not real, I told myself, it's just a fake marriage-

"Mr. Quan? Miss García?" a voice called out and I raised my head to it. "We're ready for you."

Next to me, my husband-to-be stood. Thane Quan. I hadn't even looked at his face. My Abuela had assured me that after today, I would never have to see him again so what was the point of looking at his face? It was all fine and good that he hadn't uttered a word as well or I would never get the sound out of my head.

I stood as well, my eyes firmly on the ground, staring at his well-polished shoes. I vaguely remembered Abuela saying something about how rich he was. Seemed like she had been telling the truth. He didn't look fat from the size of his torso, no pot belly either. His tan suit was pressed to perfection, his slim build impressively accentuated. Maybe he was an old man who kept fit.

Regardless, I didn't care about his money.

I only wanted the Green Card.

Being an American citizen would be the end of all my problems. At least, according to my Abuela. She was still in our little town in Mexico. Though she didn't know it yet, I was partly doing this because of her. Once I became an American citizen, I could bring her to live with me here as a dependent.

Quietly, we marched into the office. The entire ordeal was a blur actually and in a good twenty minutes, we were done.

I was officially Mrs. Quan.

Oh, God.

Shaking, I left the office, marriage certificate in hand, my cheeks hurting from how wide a smile I'd worn. I flexed my jaw, cursing. So, what now? Wham bam, thank you, ma'am? Did we just go our separate ways?

"Here, I want you to have this," my newlywed husband said, stopping in his tracks. I knew he was facing me because his shoes were pointing in my direction. His voice sounded rough, like he didn't talk much and was rusty from lack of practice. Definitely not the voice of an old man. But really, who knew?

I raised my head but only to look at his hand. He was holding out a card, a bank card. "What's that?"

"My debit card," he said, clearing his throat. "You can uh... in case you need... stuff."

Absentmindedly, I reached out and took the card, fingering the plastic. He must be really arrogant about his wealth if he didn't care that he was giving a stranger his bank card that I was sure had no limit. What if I really was a gold digger?

Come to think of it, I knew why I was doing this. But why was he?

I was about to ask when I glanced up to see that I was alone. He had left.

"Okay, then," I muttered to no one. "Goodbye, dear husband."

Does that situation sound strange? Marrying someone I'd never even seen before that day? Maybe it was... but I didn't know how strange it would get.

***

Eighteen months later...

"Lolita! I'm home!" I yelled out as I walked into the two-bedroom apartment I shared with my friend, Lola. We had lived here for the better part of a year, after meeting during one of my shifts at a restaurant I worked at months after my so-called wedding. She was only a year younger than my twenty-six years, but with her petite build, she looked much younger. Her hair was dirty blond and cropped short to her shoulders, her eyes were green like emeralds and her cheekbones stood proud on her face. With full, plump lips, she was a beauty.

People assumed we were siblings for reasons unknown to me as I'd never seen the resemblance.

Unlike her hair, mine was a sandy brown that I'd let grow for far too long that it almost got to my bum. My eyes were a dark shade of brown, my face an oval shape. My cheekbones weren't as pronounced as Lola's and my lips were thinner than hers, a pale pink color.

Lola walked into our small living room just as I plopped down on the sofa. "How was work today? Your Abuela called again. She wanted to know if you've received any word from him."

I turned my head to look at her. "Who?"

"Who else, idiota?" She said the last word in Spanish, settling down on the couch opposite me with a bowl of cereal in her hands. "Tu esposo."

For the past few months, ever since the final paperwork went through, my grandmother had been asking me relentlessly if my husband had reached out to me. Never mind that she had been the one to assure me I would never have to see him again after that dreadful day when he'd lent me his last name and his debit card and walked away.

"I don't know how else to tell her that he hasn't and I didn't expect him to. Hell, I don't even want him to. And stop calling him my husband, por favor."

She shrugged, laughing. As she'd been born in America, Lola hadn't needed to marry anyone for her Green Card. I, on the other hand, couldn't seem to forget the mysterious man from that day or the fact that I was a married woman.

I didn't know him, but for some reason I'd stayed single. I supposed I should reach out to him for a divorce or something sometime soon, but for now I was perfectly okay being single. And if I had to use him as an excuse to ward off advances from men, then so be it. I'd even bought a ring that I wore to work every day.

For what it was worth, my Abuela had been right. Coming to America and starting anew had been a good idea. It had given me a new perspective on life and helped me move on from my parent's death. While I worked on getting my papers, I'd done menial jobs to survive, one of which was where I had met Lola. I'd gotten an online degree in Business Management which helped me to get the current job I had now, as a secretary in a tech company. Nothing glamorous, but the pay was good and it catered to my needs and allowed me to save for the future. The plan was to work hard enough to bring my Abuela over here so she could live with me. Which was why I'd sent in my application for the new open position as the CEO's personal assistant.

"What time is it?" I asked, searching my handbag for my phone. "HR announced today that emails regarding the assistant role would be sent out at eight."

"Oh, it's 7:57," Lola answered. "Almost time."

"Thank God," I muttered as I found my phone and swiped it open. My heart was in my throat as I waited for the time to clock eight before opening my email.

"Give it. I'll open it for you," Lola more like commanded and against my better judgment, I handed over my phone to her.

With a serious expression, she swiped left and right, tapped about a hundred times on the screen - which I was sure was her being dramatic - before her eyes widened and she gasped.

"What?" My heart was beating through my chest. "Did I get it? Answer me, por favor, Lolita!"

Impatiently, I reached forward and snatched the device out of her hand.

'Congratulations, Mrs. Aurora Quan! You have been promoted to the role of the Personal Assistant to the CEO of Trek Tech. Please find attached your job description and you are to resume tomorrow by 9 a.m.'

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Arranged Marriage To Mr. Billionaire

About

Contents

Chapter 1 Chapter 1

Other books by Sydney Rode

My Not-So-One-Night Stand With a Billionaire

His Rejected Gifted Mate