"Let me tell you something you may not know, Mister," Cassandra tried very hard to spit out each word separately, with a few decent milliseconds interval. "You don't play funny pranks on drunken women."

He peered down at her, his blue eyes narrowed. She was in an awkward position with her upper arms resting on the table, her lower ones framing both sides of her face, and her hands lazily making motions over her head as she spoke.

"You're drunk?" his voice asked with disbelief.

She gave out a throaty laugh and buried her face down her arms. "Oh god, you're such an idiot," she said, her voice muffled by her limbs. She was almost kissing the cold table.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," she answered, lifting her head once more to glance up at him with squinted eyes. "Please find someone else to propose to because I'm not just up to it. If this is a part of a television program where you have hidden cameras somewhere, give me a freaking talent fee or get lost."

He was about to speak up when her coffee arrived. She gave her thanks to the lady who hastily left to go back to the counter. She savored the feeling of warmth the hot liquid offered when she took a careful sip.

"As I've said before, I'm here to talk to you," the stranger said once again—this time with a forceful, patient tone.

Her vision was getting clearer now and she had time to study the man. She straightened on her chair looking at the quite handsome creature in front of her. She guessed he must be in his early thirties, his hair was brown and everywhere—it was like messy but not at all because it gave him a rugged-clean look. His nose was just perfect and his lips were just plain edible. His divided chin was cleanly shaven she could even smell his aftershave. Overall, his rugged face and his formal attire—dark blue tie and black coat—gave off an aura of power and confidence. She scratched the preacher guess and went with the television host. But if this was a crazy show, she didn't want to be a part of it.

"What? About marriage?" she said with a chuckle, finally remembering what he said earlier about some offer he had for her. "Nah-uh, not gonna happen."

"Really? But I was just being nice earlier when I said I have something to offer you because in fact, you don't really have a choice."

"What do you mean I don't have a choice? And what's your name again?" She leaned on her arms. He was acting way too cool for a TV show host.

"Philip Strindberg," he answered. The name vaguely sounded familiar but Cassandra did not have enough time to assess it further as the man leaned forward, their faces were inches apart, and added, "And yes, you don't really have a choice. The contract is sealed."

Cassandra's face contorted in confusion. The coffee finally had its effect for her vision cleared instantly. She looked around. There were no cameras. They must have hidden them really well. But the man was looking really serious. "Wait, stop right there. What contract?"

Philip Strindberg smiled in contentment upon seeing her reaction and leaned back against his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "A contract your father signed before we made the deal," he said with an expectant look on his face.

Okay, maybe this was not a TV show after all. "My father? Deal? What are you talking about? And how did you know my father?" That time a rush of panic and doom started to rise up her gut. The mention of her father made her realize that the man sitting in front of her may not be playing some kind of prank. "What deal?" she repeated.

For a moment Cassandra saw confusion flash across his face before he covered it with his arrogant mien and a more arrogant shrug. "We are business... partners." He paused to gauge her reaction and sighed. "Considering the look on your face, you have no idea." When she did not utter a word, he shrugged once again. "Your father and I stumbled into a very good bargain, one that will benefit us both," he said. "In exchange for my help, he offered you as my transient wife while he works out how to actually pay me back."

That did not really register as quickly as it was meant to be. The words seemed to travel through the air in slow motion until they crept inside her ears and were processed by her brain. And when she finally decoded the message her jaw dropped and her mind tried to deny the information. Denial was fast to disappear because a sudden burst of anger flared up and she cried, "Hell no! That's absurd!" She started to get up, leaving her coffee and the crazy handsome man.

He stopped her by grabbing her wrist, pulling her back toward him, his eyes dangerously intimidating. "As I've said, you don't have a choice here," Philip said quietly, anger edged in his voice.

She snapped her head down at him, almost cursing herself because it hurt like hell what with the alcohol still lodged in her brain, and with her piercing eyes she said, "I don't have anything to do with my father's business, never took interest before and never will so let me go."

"Yes, that's true, otherwise you would have known of his long business dilemma." He met her eyes and tightened his grip instead of letting go. "But I'm sure you don't want your father in jail, do you?"

"I am sure that whatever deal you had with my father was illegal. Let me get sober so I could search for a law book or something and then I'll get back to you. This is the twentieth century, dude. You're lying."

"No, I'm not. And it is the twenty-first. It is currently the twenty-first century," Philip answered quickly. Cassandra ignored him and he took the opportunity to continue, saying, "If you want, you can call your father now. I'm sure he'd be glad to fill you in with the details. I was not expecting to meet an ignorant fiancée today, if I must be honest. Anders should have told you."

She pulled at her hand but he was strong. "Let me go."

"Not until you agree to listen to me."

"I don't have to listen to any stupid things you have to stay."

"Even if it means saving your father from shame and years in prison?"

"Oh my god, I hate you already."

A forced smile curled his lips. "I get that a lot."

"I'll pay you. I have some money left in savings."

He looked at her with—what was that look on his face? Pity? Because it appeared as such to Cassandra. Did he pity her for being ignorant of all this?

He shook his head and said, "I don't think you have that much to pay back the amount your father borrowed from me. I made the contract for a reason, Cassandra. As you may very well see, I don't need more money." He looked at her intently. "I need a wife. And your father already signed for it. All I just have to do now is claim it."

"What do you need a wife for?" she asked incredulously. Maybe she had too much to drink and she was just hallucinating. Oh god, this is just plain crazy.

"I have my reasons," he shrugged his shoulders as he spoke. "But I'm not telling you that. Please sit down," he urged gently but strongly at the same time.

"No, I'm leaving."

"If you leave, I'll have no choice but to drag you back to your chair and strap you to it. And don't think I'm joking." There was something in the way he said it that made Cassandra believe every word. Reluctantly, she stomped back to her chair and sat down in a huff. "Good. Glad to know we understand each other."

"No, you threatened me. Please go on and let's get this over with so I can go to the nearest police station and have you arrested."

He must have disregarded her last statement because he started his speech. "First, I would like to apologize for—"

"Apology not accepted," she cut in. "Now, please go on to the next topic."

Philip took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm his rage and did as what she said. "As I've said, your father and I signed a contract that the moment I transfer the money to his business account, I will have you in return." He held up his hand when she opened her mouth. "Let me finish. In the contract, we agreed that the moment the business is back on its feet you will be free to leave."

She raised her hand, her eyes questioning. Understanding what she meant, he gave a curt nod and she said, "How long does the moment the business is back on its feet exactly means?"

"The contract holds until six months," he informed formally, like he was reporting for some business associates. "Of course it will start at the day of the marriage." She could see something else behind his gaze but he was good at covering it up. She knew there was something more to this arrangement.

"And if I don't marry you?"

"Simple," he placed his hand flat on the table near her now cold coffee. "Your father will lose his business and end up with a bunch of legal problems. If you consult your law book, you will know all about them."

He didn't really have to say it twice because even though she didn't have any knowledge of business, she was very well aware that a written legal contract was just plain legal, ergo paying a great deal of price if you breach it. But this contract was illegal in any layman's eyes. She knew it was! But the thought that her father did it anyway with this man was unbelievable.

But she didn't doubt that her father would do anything for his dear business though. And right now, she really wanted to fly to wherever he was and claw on his face for going too far. How could he do such a thing to his own daughter? His own flesh and blood? His little darling, as what he always says?

"I haven't heard of your name before. My father talks about his associates. Your name never came up."

Philip Strindberg shrugged. "We do not really work very closely. Our business is entirely of a different nature."

Cassandra's nostrils flared as she tried to suppress her frustrations. "A different nature. Great. What? Illegal? Are you a loan shark?"

He chuckled. "You might want to Google the name, Cassandra."

Cassandra groaned. She was almost sure she would find nothing but good about this man. She knew his name sounded familiar but she could not just point out where she heard it.

"I'm not dreaming, am I?"

"No, you're not. It's as real as can be."

"Oh my god," she dropped her head in defeat. As much as she wanted to kill her father, she didn't want him to lose the business he had worked his sweat and blood for and she definitely didn't want him in jail! Her mother would die with just the thought! "Please, let this be a dream."

Philip chose to ignore her emotional display and continued, "You go talk to your father about this. I'm sure he would want to explain before the wedding."

She snapped her head up once again. "Wedding...when..." she couldn't bring herself to finish the question.

"Two days from now," was his straight answer. With that, Philip Strindberg stood up and looked down at her. "And please, don't try to run away, Cassandra."

The warning he left her before walking away rang through her brain over and over again. Still in a daze, she looked down at her half-empty cup of coffee, trying to think of every possible thing she could do to get through the mess her father had willingly put her in.

*****

Philip climbed into his car and grabbed his phone, the frown on his face still apparent as he placed it against his ear.

"It's done. You better make sure you have that divorce paper at the ready."

"Win-win situation, Philip, remember?" the voice from the other line said.

His lips formed a tight, sardonic smile. "You and Anders have more to gain from this than I do. This is the last one, Bell."

"Yes, of course," his friend uttered before the line went dead.