The CEO's Unexpected Bride

Ethan Watson’s hand trembled as he poured another shot of whiskey, the golden liquid catching the dim glow of the bar lights. His jaw clenched tight as the image of Diana and Harson replayed in his mind—her laughter, his best friend’s hand lingering on her waist. It wasn’t a hallucination. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was reality.

He slammed the glass down, the noise drawing brief glances from other patrons. Ethan didn’t care. Tonight, he wasn’t the formidable CEO of Watson Group. Tonight, he was just a man drowning in betrayal.

A familiar voice in his head whispered to stop, to go home. But home meant facing Martha, his mother, whose unwavering belief in his strength would crumble if she saw him like this. He drained another glass instead.

At the corner of the bar, a woman swayed on her stool. Alea Larson’s fingers gripped the counter as if it were the only solid thing in her life. Her mascara smudged, and the faint trace of tears streaked her cheeks. She muttered something under her breath, glaring at the empty shot glass in front of her.

The bartender hesitated before placing another drink in front of her. “You sure, miss?”

Alea’s laugh was hollow. “Why not? What’s one more mistake?”

Ethan’s focus shifted, his hazy mind catching fragments of her words. The raw pain mirrored his own. He saw Daniel in her anguish, her heartbreak as palpable as his own fury. He watched as she stumbled off her stool, her movements erratic. The idea of leaving her to fend for herself in this state gnawed at his alcohol-fogged conscience.

When Alea staggered towards the exit, Ethan followed, their steps weaving through the quiet street. She leaned against the wall of a nearby hotel, fumbling with her purse. Ethan, compelled by something he couldn’t name, approached.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gruff.

Her eyes met his, glassy but defiant. “What do you care?”

Ethan hesitated, then gestured to the hotel entrance. “You need to get off the street. It’s not safe.”

She scoffed, but a wobble in her stance made her concede. They entered the hotel together, the receptionist raising an eyebrow but saying nothing as Ethan booked a room. Alea muttered something about needing a place to forget, her words slurring together.

The elevator ride was silent, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. When the doors opened, Ethan guided her to the room.

Alea collapsed onto the bed, kicking off her heels. She looked up at Ethan, her expression softening. “Why are you being nice to me?”

Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Maybe I’m not as heartless as people think.”

Her laugh was faint, and her eyes fluttered shut. Ethan sank into the armchair, his mind too clouded to make sense of the night. He watched as Alea drifted into unconsciousness, her pain momentarily silenced.

The sun streamed through the curtains, its light slicing through Alea’s pounding headache. She groaned, her hand brushing against the soft fabric of a blanket. Her eyes snapped open. Scattered clothing littered the floor, and panic seized her as she registered the unfamiliar room.

Her gaze darted to the figure sitting across the room. Ethan Watson—the Ethan Watson—sat in the armchair, his expression unreadable. He held a glass of water, his tailored shirt unbuttoned at the collar.

Alea clutched the blanket tighter. “What… what happened?”

Ethan’s gaze didn’t waver. “You were drunk. I made sure you were safe.”

Her cheeks burned, but relief mixed with her embarrassment. She glanced at the floor, her belongings strewn about. Among them, she spotted her mother’s necklace. She hurried to gather her things, her fingers fumbling with the delicate chain.

“I need to go,” she muttered, avoiding Ethan’s piercing stare.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, his tone sharp.

She froze. “What question?”

“Why were you drinking like that?”

Alea’s grip on the necklace tightened. “That’s none of your business.”

Ethan didn’t press further, his eyes narrowing slightly. Without another word, Alea fled the room, leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume and a trace of curiosity in Ethan’s mind. As the door clicked shut, he noticed the necklace on the floor.

He picked it up, the intricate design catching his attention. A memory stirred, but he dismissed it. His focus shifted to the woman who had just left, her pain oddly familiar.

Ethan slipped the necklace into his pocket. “Who are you, Alea?” he muttered to himself.

A week later, Alea thought she’d moved past the bizarre encounter. She buried herself in work, her mind avoiding thoughts of Daniel and his betrayal. But her fragile peace shattered when she received a call from an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Alea Larson?” The deep voice sent a shiver down her spine.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“Ethan Watson.”

Her breath hitched. “How did you get my number?”

“I have my ways,” he said, his tone cold. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” she asked, suspicion lacing her words.

“Your necklace.”

Alea froze. She hadn’t even realized it was missing. “Why would you have my necklace?”

“Because you left it in my hotel room,” he said bluntly. “Meet me at Watson Tower. Tomorrow, 10 a.m.”

Before she could protest, the line went dead.

The next morning, Alea found herself standing in the sleek lobby of Watson Tower. The receptionist directed her to the top floor, where Ethan waited in his expansive office. The city skyline framed him like a portrait, his presence as commanding as his reputation.

“Miss Larson,” he greeted, gesturing for her to sit.

She hesitated but complied. “You have my necklace. I’ll take it and leave.”

Ethan smirked. “Not so fast. I have a proposition.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of proposition?”

Ethan leaned forward, his gaze locking onto hers. “A contract marriage. One year. You’ll play the role of my wife, and in return, I’ll ensure we both get revenge on those who wronged us.”

Alea stared at him, her mind reeling. “You’re insane.”

“Perhaps,” he said, his voice cold and calculating. “But think about it. We both have something to gain. And more importantly, they have something to lose.”

She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “I’ll think about it,” she said, her voice shaking.

As she left, Ethan’s smirk widened. He knew she’d be back. Everyone had their price.