My wife

I have to surrender, I really can't stand this. I bet my lower part is soaked because I can feel it's very damn hot. And there's a hard man-thing straight against my thigh!

But isn't he joking? I had thought he would ask for millions of dollars or perhaps for me to be his maid, but I never expected him to ask for my hand in marriage. Especially when I couldn't even control my own body. Oh god, you must be joking with me.

It was too ridiculous. He had money, fame, and a handsome face that no woman would want to resist. Why was he so bent on making me his wife?

I found it unbelievable, quickly regaining a little sense, "Mr. Clinton, are you serious right now?"

"Do I look like a comedian or someone with time for joking?" His tone was full of provocation and anger, accompanied by his man's thing getting harder and harder.

"But why marriage? Why should I marry you?" I asked back, resisting the urge to tremble as my mind was full of clips of that night with his naked body and strong manly sweat.

He had everything. Why would he want to marry someone he met for the first time? Did he have some kind of harem? Did he marry everyone who came to ask him for help? Did he want to make me one of his wives?

As if he guessed what I was thinking, he frowned, his expression turning darker. Then he slowly walked up. Then he stood up. Taking this opportunity, I quickly stood up too. But the next second I was firmly held in his arms. What on earth does this man want to do?

Before I could answer, he moved my hand down. I could feel something hard and long between his legs. Oh my god, I had felt it on my thighs and now I had to hold it with my hands right on it. I really couldn't bear this torture. Above me, his sexy, deep voice was full of flirtation."Miss Lewiston, are you now satisfied that I am able to be your husband? You can now check if I am normal," he said as he pressed my hand against his hard ridge.

Blushing, I felt the ridge on my palm and quickly shoved him away. I was hesitant, my anger rising.

Who did he think he was, proposing marriage to me without even knowing who I was?

"Look here, Mr. Enzo. I may be desperate to get my brother's surgery done, but I can't sell my body for that," I said, folding my hands in a pleading expression. "I am sorry, Mr. Enzo, but I can't accept your offer."

I made to leave, but he stopped me by throwing a card at me. "It is bound to happen this way. The offer is valid until midnight. You can contact me if you change your mind."

I left the company in anger and went back to the hospital, walking to the VIP ward where Kyle was admitted. My eyes widened as I saw how doctors flooded the room.

"What happened, doctor?"

"Good that you're back, Miss Lewiston. Your brother's heart condition suddenly worsened, and at this rate, if we don't get the surgery done, it might lead to his death or perhaps serious mental conditions."

I was devastated, thrown into a state where I had to consider all possible ways. Kyle was just thirteen years old and already battling with severe health issues. As I sat at the reception, Enzo Clinton's card slipped out of my bag.

I was thrown into an abyss of disarray. Kyle's condition weighed heavily on my mind. I knew I had no other option.

I turned back and went to Clinton's International Firm. The same receptionists who had received me earlier were there. They didn't look down on me this time but regarded me with respect.

"You're welcome, Miss Lewiston. Wait here, and let's put a call through to the President to see if he'll have you," one said.

I looked at her with disdain. I couldn’t help but smirk. People could really change. Just earlier, they had laughed at me. Now, they were smiling and grinning as if they had won a lottery.

I hissed and left the receptionist before she could make any call. "Excuse me, Miss Lewiston. You can't enter without permission," the receptionist called after me, but I dashed into the building in a frenzy.

As I entered the office without knocking, I found him on a business conference call on his laptop. His eyes were full of obvious desire and possession when he saw me. He gestured for me to sit down, and as swiftly as he could, he ended the call.

"Miss Lewiston, if you're here to plead with me, I guess we don't have anything else to talk about."

He spoke as soon as he was done. I clenched my fists and stood still. We locked eyes for some moments. After a while, I took a deep breath, my voice trembling. "If I marry you, will you help me with my brother's surgery?"

Enzo Clinton narrowed his eyes. "Did you agree?"

I smiled bitterly. "Isn't that what you wanted as the benefit? As long as you can cure my brother, then I'll marry you."

Enzo couldn't contain the joy and happiness in his heart as I agreed to marry him. But looking at my bitter, helpless smile, he frowned, thinking I was unhappy to marry him. Yes, I had every reason to hate him. He asked me for marriage in exchange for my brother's surgery and even pestered me.

He walked up to me and hugged me involuntarily. With a serious face and narrow gaze, he said, "I promise you, you will never regret marrying me. I'll give you all the affection in the world that you might need, and I'll dedicate my life to protecting you, my wife."

I felt my heart shudder as he addressed me with the new title, "My wife."