Lina Point of view

It was a hectic day after reviewing a popular restaurant in the city—one of the best, as people claimed. But I was shocked to find they had no proper kitchen hygiene, so I gave them a bad review. As a food critic, it’s my job to stay unbiased.

I stepped out of my car and headed inside. I found my parents in the living room.

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,” I greeted, but they didn’t respond.

“You should go change and get ready for your date. I just sent you the address and the name of the restaurant,” my dad said, and I couldn’t believe my ears. They wouldn’t even let me rest properly.

“Mom, Dad,” I called, staring at them. “Do I really have to go from one date to another? I’ve already been on several this week. Can I just take a break and focus on my work? The right man will come at the right time,” I told them, but my dad just smirked.

“There’s no such thing as the ‘right man coming at the right time.’ Marriage is about commitment, and love grows with time. You know better than to say no. Now go get ready,” he ordered firmly.

“Yes, my daughter,” my mom chimed in, smiling as she held my dad’s hand, acting all lovey-dovey. “Our marriage was arranged too, and we fell in love.”

But what could I do? I come from a family where disobeying your parents means being labeled the black sheep.

“Fine. I’ll go. But don’t expect me to say yes,” I told them.

“You will have to,” my dad snapped. “This isn’t just anyone. It’s either you say yes—or I disown you as my daughter.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“My friend’s daughter got married at 20. She’s your age, and I was just invited to her second child’s baby shower. Aren’t you ashamed?” he added, and I knew better than to argue any further.

They were comparing me to someone who got pregnant out of wedlock and rushed into marriage to cover it up. Why couldn’t I just focus on my own life instead?

Without another word, I turned and walked toward my room.

*****

I arrived at the restaurant my father had sent me to and walked inside with quiet confidence.

As I entered, my eyes scanned the room until they landed on a guy sitting alone near the window, completely focused on his tablet. The soft glow from the glass beside him revealed a stunning view of the city skyline. He had to be my date.

I approached him, and without waiting for an invitation, I sat across from him. He didn’t even glance up—his eyes locked on the screen, his jaw tense, brows furrowed. From the looks of it, he was just as much a workaholic as I was.

I cleared my throat and let out a soft “Hmm.” Just enough to break his concentration.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered distractedly, then looked up—and froze.

My eyes widened. "You."

We both said it at the same time.

He leaned back, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “So, you’re my date. And you have the nerve to leave a scathing review about my restaurant? Do you even realize the damage you caused me?” he asked, his voice low but sharp.

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Don’t try to pin your restaurant’s incompetence—or your staff’s—on me. I just did my job.”

His hand slammed against the table, the sound echoing across the restaurant, heads turned towards us, couples or people on date staring.

He blinked, as if realizing the attention he’d drawn, and quickly muttered, “I’m sorry for that.”

But I wasn’t about to let that slide. I leaned in slightly, my voice cool and steady. “Did you really just raise your voice at a lady on a first date?”

He shrugged. “And what if I did? When you gave my company a bad review, did you think otherwise?” he asked, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“How arrogant can you be? Why is it so hard for you to admit your restaurant was incompetent?” I shot back.

“Tell me how? How could you make us look so bad over one silly mistake?” he said.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Don’t undermine my work. A top-tier restaurant like yours makes a grave error and you call it silly? What about the customer’s health? What if someone got seriously ill?”

Without another word, he pushed the tablet across the table toward me.

“Look at this. See what’s happening because of your bad review,” he said.

I pushed it right back. “You should take the fall and learn to be more professional. I don’t even know—are we on a date or are we here to talk business?” I asked.

He went quiet for a moment, his jaw clenched.

“I didn’t even want to be on this date in the first place,” he muttered. “But now that I’m here and seeing you—it’s only making me angrier.”

He started to stand.

“Hey, you can’t just leave like that!” I grabbed his wrist, but he jerked his hand away.

“Why wouldn’t I? You ruined my business and expect me to sit here and smile at you?”

My heart sank. If this date ended like this, I was doomed. My father didn’t joke with his rules, and defying him could mean losing everything—including my place in the family. I couldn’t afford to walk away from this like nothing happened.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked, desperate now. “What would fix everything?”

He smirked and slowly sat back down.

“Fix this mess? Work with my restaurant. Help rebuild the name you ruined.”

I took a long, deep breath. “And what do I gain from it?”

He leaned forward, eyes cold but steady. “I’ll agree to a contract marriage. One year. Since you're so desperate for marriage anyway.”

Chapter 2

Lina's point of view

Did he just mention that we can go into a one-year contract marriage? How did he know about that?

I thought my parents and I were the only ones discussing marriage; how did he find out?

Something's off.

Even if he did, this isn't a reason why he should be acting as though my life depends on it.

"Hey, we shouldn't be talking about that now, and who told you I'm even desperate for it?" I asked him, trying to pretend not to be concerned about it.

I frowned, trying not to let him see that something was going on.

"Come on, girl, I'm just making this offer to you because I'm pitying you and I feel like helping you," he told me.

This guy is still as rude as ever; I hate the fact that he still thinks he's helping me.

"Who's pitying whom here? Do you think I'm desperate and vulnerable?" I asked him, folding my arms across my chest. His gaze was fixed on me, and I turned my gaze away, trying to play tough.

"Alright then, since you're not interested, I'd better leave; I've got more important things to do with my time," he told me, showing no concern.

This guy isn't nice one bit.

I huffed. "So, you're saying I'm not worth spending your time?"

"I don't think so; I mean you're not worth my time at all," he snapped, getting up from the chair. He collected his phone from the table and started to leave.

Is he serious? Is he really leaving just like that?

"Hey, wait!" I said, raising my voice. He stopped and turned to face me.

"What?" he asked, spreading his hands with a frown.

I raised an eyebrow. "What's with the serious look?" I asked, my frustration evident.

"If you ask me that one more time, I'll walk out, and that'll be it," he warned.

I rolled my eyes. "Why are you being so arrogant? You think you're the only man left in the whole wide world?"

His response was a low, irritated hiss. "And you think you're the only woman worth knowing?" he snapped.

This guy has no tact whatsoever.

"Honestly, you're making it feels like I'm the only one that needs a favour here. We both need the favour." I told him.

"You don't need it?" He demanded.

"I'm not saying I don't need it, but what I don't like is how you're making it seem like I'm desperate or my whole life depends on it," I said, my frustration growing.

He huffed. "Just accept your fate_"

"You're the one who needs this favor because of what you stand to gain, so shouldn't you be the one begging?" I asked him.

His response was laced with arrogance.

"Well, you need it more." He added.

"So, you're saying you don't need it?" I challenged.

"Who's in a tight spot here?" he retorted, stepping closer. "You're the one cornered, and I'm just trying to help. Stop being so proud and pretending you're something special," he said, his tone condescending.

I'd had enough of his insults. He could take his proposal and leave.

I won't let my guard down, I'm going to make him know that my life didn't depend on his charity, and I certainly wasn't going to beg.

"Get out! Take your proposal and get out of my sight!" I yelled, my anger boiling over.

"Mark my words, you'll be crawling back to me on your hands and knees," he hissed, his eyes blazing with fury.

"You think I'd ever beg you? You're delusional!" I retorted, my voice rising to a shout.

"We'll see who begs first," he snarled, before turning on his heel and storming out of the room.

Fuck this bastard!

"What am I going to do now?" I wondered, anxiety creeping in.

How would my father react when he found out the date he'd set me up with ended in a bitter argument? Would he disown me or throw me out of the house?

Frustrated, I ran my hands through my hair. Had I been too hasty in quarreling with that insufferable man? But he had been arrogant and condescending.

Collecting my handbag, I decided to leave the restaurant, uncomfortable with the feeling of being on displayed.

I dreaded going home, knowing my dad's reaction would be a loud and angry lecture. The thought of it was already playing out in my mind.

As I sat in the cab, unsure of where I was headed, my phone buzzed with a text from my friend Sandra.

"Don't forget the mask party tonight," she reminded me.

I typed a quick reply: "Noted."

***

Later that night, instead of going home, I decided to hang out in a club with my friends.

Sandra's eyes lit up. "Oh, yeah! How was the date?" she asked, barely containing her excitement.

I shook my head. "It was awful – worst date ever," I said, throwing my hands up in frustration.

Leah jumped in, "Was he harsh or rude?"

"No, he was just plain stupid," I said, laughing. I proceeded to tell them the whole story, and they listened with rapt attention.

"So, what are you going to tell your dad now? I know he'll be expecting good news, like his daughter tying the knot soon," Sandra said.

"I don't really know what to tell him," I said, frustration evident on my face.

"It's best you run away to another city," Sandra suggested. "And maybe that could make them look for you. And wouldn't have to force you to get married again." She added.

I felt really confused and decided not to come to any conclusion yet, I've got to think about that carefully before doing it.

And since it's a mask party, I decided to dance my mind out.

As I kept dancing, a half-drunk guy stumbled over to me, and to my surprise, we hit it off on the dance floor. The music pulsed around us as we moved in sync, our chemistry palpable.

The night blurred into a haze, and before I knew it, we were checking into a hotel room.

"Take me back," I said weakly, but I was just too drunk, and I could feel the whole place rotating.

The next minute, he carried me inside a room and forced his lips on mine.

I found myself responding to his kisses which started slowly but turned into a rush.

I never wanted to, but it seemed like my body was betraying me and soon, I began to feel a burning sensation all over my body.

Chapter three

Griffin's POV

I woke up, disoriented, and scanned the unfamiliar room. The ash-colored bedspread seemed out of place, and my gaze fell to my naked body. This wasn't my room; it looked like a hotel. But how did I end up here?

Memories of the previous night began to resurface – the bar, the dance with a mysterious woman in the dark. Her body structure hinted at beauty, but her face remained a blur. My eyes landed on the bloodstains on the bed, and questions swirled. Was she a virgin? Did I take her V-card? Or was someone else involved?

But she seemed to really want me that night. Since she was a virgin, why did she willingly give it up last night to a total stranger? Did she know me? I don't think so; I guess she was drunk.

Why did something like that happen?

I felt really bad yesterday after that date with that so-called Lina. She really provoked me and was shouting as though we were in the same class.

She ruined my entire day, and to relieve myself from the thought of it all, I decided to go out and to clear my head up; in the process, I ended up in bed with a stranger.

I got out of bed, grabbed my boxers from the corner, and put them on. As I approached the door, I tried to piece together the events. The bar, the dance, the hotel – it all came flooding back. We'd kissed, and she'd responded passionately. She was incredible. No one had ever made me feel that way.

I rushed to the bathroom, hoping she'd be there, but it was empty. Was she a prostitute?

"Come on Griffin, what are you even thinking?" I scold myself. " How can a prostitute be a virgin?"

I'm sure she was drunk, and everything that happened was just a reckless moment.

Shit, I wonder how devastated she'll be when she realizes her cherished virginity was taken without her consent. She was probably ashamed, which is why she left without waking me up.

I can imagine the curses she'd be laying on me now. Women, especially those who've lost their virginity in such circumstances, often carry a heavy emotional burden. Maybe she would've stayed if I'd offered her some compensation – $200,000, perhaps? But is it worth that kind of money?

"Maybe," I said, shrugging.

Now, that didn't matter. I had to find her. I felt an unexpected connection, even after just one night. I wanted her, and I knew I had to make her mine.

Coupled with the fact that I'd disflowered her, I guess she was mine, and that's why she had to keep it for me. I'm going to go find her, no matter what it takes.

I sat down on the couch, resting my leg on one side and my finger at the side of my mouth. "That girl was fucking sweet! She's so good in bed, and I just can't get her off my mind," I said to myself. Then, I added, "Let me see if Karim can help me out." I dialed his number.

Karim is my best friend; he's from Egypt, but according to him, he and his family had been here ever since he was a child. Of course, that's true because we attended the same junior high school and also the same high school. He's a medical doctor, but we often hang out together.

I'd explain everything that happened yesterday and how I felt bad, and he suggested I go to the bar. We were together before I got slightly drunk. I guess he's going to know who the lady I slept with was.

"Hey dude," I started, immediately he picked up the call.

"How was she last night? Was she good?" he asked me, and with the way he was sounding, I could tell he was excited about it. I know this guy is involved in it all.

"You did that, right?" I asked him, sounding slightly provoked.

"Come on, man, I saw your chemistry and I decided it shouldn't end on the dance floor, so I helped you both check into that hotel..." he told me.

Fuck this guy!

Should I be angry now or what?

"And you made me sleep with her, right?" I asked him.

"You did; that's fantastic," he said. "How was she? Was she good?" he demanded.

"She was a virgin," I told him.

"What!" His voice echoed.

"You made me take someone's V-card; I'll never forgive you for that," I verbally attacked him.

"Hope you didn't get her pregnant because I know you didn't use a condom?" he asked.

This guy is pissing me off right now. "You're lucky she's a virgin, else you'd have gotten some sexually transmitted diseases." He added.

"Do you know who she is?" I asked him.

"I don't know, why are you asking?" he demanded.

"Nothing; you'll do me a favor now. Try to find her for me," I told him.

"Are you being serious?" he asked me.

"Yes, of course," I told him.

"I guess you're hiding something from me," he paused and then continued, "It seems like she gave you all those amazing styles last night, and that's why you still want more rounds with her, right?" he teased.

I wish he were here face-to-face; I would have given him a punch in the face.

"You're getting me angry," I said, trying not to laugh. "I need her," I told him, and ended the call.

Just then, my phone rings. I'd thought it was Karim but it turned out to be my manager.

"Hello, what's up?" I asked immediately I picked the call.

"Our Market drop so bad, and our competitors are trying to use this against us." He told me. "I even tried finding the food critic but non of my efforts was useful." He complained.

"Alright, you'll wait for my guidance, and try to keep things you could in place." I instructed him.

"What if we fire the workers who made this happened, maybe this could calm them a little.." he said.

"Alright, you can go ahead." I told him and ended the call.

I've got two things to do now: first, deal with the food critic, and secondly, find out more about the lady I slept with last night.