Married to a Man Who Hates Women

Freya Laurent never thought a single sentence could change her life forever.

"Take this money and marry me."

She blinked, completely caught off guard.

A thick brown envelope was pushed across the table toward her. Her hazel eyes locked onto it, unable to look away. The word money spun in her head, making her slightly dizzy, her thoughts turning hazy.

What is this?

Money?

Is she... being proposed to?

Across from her sat a handsome man who looked undeniably wealthy. One leg crossed over the other, arms folded across his chest. He wore a dark blue suit that complemented his complexion perfectly. His face carried an air of confidence, though a trace of impatience flickered as he waited for her reaction.

On the other side of the sofa stood another man-tall, composed, dressed in a neat silver suit that looked anything but cheap. He had the air of a loyal assistant.

"Huh?" Freya was still out of it.

"This isn't a real marriage," the man said, his deep voice edged with impatience. "I'm offering you a formal contract. I'll pay you until the contract ends."

She looked him up and down. Not bad. Handsome. Rich.

The most tempting part-those two steel gray eyes, cold and sharp. Even his firm jaw, tan skin... Oh, and the dimples when he spoke. That almost felt unfair.

Wait.

"A contract marriage?" she frowned.

The man nodded. "You'll marry me, but only for appearances."

Freya suddenly perked up. "Wait, am I being recruited by some talent agency? Is this like that show, We Got Married?"

"...what?"

"So I'm going to be a celebrity?"

Damn.

Freya had never dreamed of becoming a celebrity, but it didn't sound like a bad option. She loved money. And celebrities made a lot of it.

She had no idea what kind of dream she'd had last night that led to a stranger showing up at the karaoke place where she worked as a hostess. They even rented a private room, colorful lights still flickering above them, just to offer her money to become a celebrity.

Could this finally be the end of her miserable life?

She had spent years living off other people's mercy. At twenty, she lost her parents and was forced to grow up overnight. For the next four years, she worked nonstop, jumping from one job to another, yet still remained poor.

All because she had to pay off the debts her father left behind. Debts owed to ruthless loan sharks.

Even after four years, she still hadn't paid them off.

If she accepted this offer, she could become rich. She could finally be free!

"I will! I'll take it!"

She reached for the money, but the man suddenly pulled it away.

"What are you talking about?" His voice dropped, his patience gone.

Freya didn't seem to notice. She laughed awkwardly and cleared her throat. "Ah, right, I was too hasty. So... where's the camera? Are we already filming?"

The man's expression darkened.

Did someone seriously introduce him to an idiot?

"You seem to misunderstand. I-"

She cut him off, suddenly straightening up and putting on an elegant demeanor. "I understand now. Sorry about that. Let's cut that part. I'll start acting properly."

"...?" 'What exactly did you understand? What acting?'

"So what's your name again? Are you going to be my partner on the show?"

"...!!!"

"No, no! You're a man and I'm a woman. If we live together, things might get out of control. What if I get pregnant? Will there be compensation? Will I get paid more if that happens?" she rambled freely.

"You-"

He stopped mid-sentence.

Freya suddenly slipped onto the sofa beside him, closing the distance completely, her hand rising to brush his chin.

A chill ran down his spine.

His expression soured when he caught a strong scent. But to him, it wasn't sweet.

Meanwhile, she leaned fully into her 'acting,' slipping into the sensual rhythm she knew well. This was how she made money, being a high-end club hostess, moving from one client to another, earning more through charm and performance.

She studied his reaction, trying to match his preferences.

Her fingers trailed from his chin to his cheek, rough with faint stubble. Staying in character, she tilted his face toward hers, slowly leaning in.

Perfect.

Except-

Instead of being captivated, his face turned green.

He shoved her away.

Then he immediately covered his mouth and vomited onto the floor.

Freya froze.

W-What?

She hadn't even done anything extreme, and he... threw up?

Before she could react, he spoke first, eyes red, voice low and cold. "What did you do? You smell like rotten eggs. I could die."

"...Rotten eggs?" She frowned. "What-"

But before she could finish, he stormed out and taking the money with him.

".........."

Freya sat there, speechless.

What the hell just happened?

She stayed silent for a moment, then crossed her arms and dropped onto the sofa.

"Fvck. Did I just get scammed?" she muttered. "Well, it's not like this is the first time some guy's faked being rich just to hit on me anyway."

She shrugged.

A soft cough came from nearby.

She turned and realized the other man was still there. A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face. Then he stepped forward and handed her a business card.

"Miss Laurent, this is my boss's card. He's a businessman, not part of any talent agency or management."

Freya took it and read the name.

Nathaniel Obgrin.

There was a company name listed, but she had never heard of it-then again, she never cared about such things.

"Tch. So I really got scammed?"

"We didn't deceive you," the man said calmly. "You were the one who let your imagination run wild."

Freya fell silent. That stung.

"So?" she asked.

"I'm Keith Morgan, Mr. Obgrin's personal assistant. I've already called someone to clean this mess up. Could we continue this conversation outside? The offer still stands."

The smell of vomit lingered in the VIP room. Freya wrinkled her nose, her stomach turning.

So much for becoming a famous celebrity.

Great.

"No. Forget it. Find someone else. I don't want to deal with that man."

Forget the money. If she had to deal with someone who thought she smelled like rotten eggs, she'd probably end up hitting him every day.

She discreetly sniffed her own armpit.

Nothing.

She smelled perfectly fine.

That bastard.

"I apologize on behalf of Mr. Obgrin," Keith said. "He is actually... allergic to women."

Freya turned sharply. "He's... what?"

"Allergic to women," he replied flatly. "He reacts by vomiting when he's near them or smells them."

"I don't smell," she snapped. "And does that even make sense? Allergic to women? Is he allergic to his own mother too?"

She let out a snort.

"No. He's allergic to all women except his mother. She doesn't know about it, and she keeps pressuring him to get married."

Now she finally understood the core of the problem.

Keith added that the karaoke club owner had recommended her, apparently because she was an orphan, making her a 'suitable candidate'.

Yeah. Thanks a lot.

Freya clenched her teeth.

"How old is he, by the way?"

"...Thirty-five."

She almost choked on her own saliva.

That was an eleven-year gap.

Was there really no one else willing?

"Tell me, is he still a virgin?" she asked curiously.

Keith coughed awkwardly. "So... Miss Laurent, will you accept the offer? I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"Answer me first."

"Miss-"

"Come on, just tell me!"

Freya raised an eyebrow, staring straight at him. Keith didn't answer, he simply covered his mouth and coughed again.

That was answer enough.

She burst into laughter.

"Oh my God. I didn't think there was actually a man who lived like a monk until thirty-five."

She found it strangely amusing. That Obgrin guy suddenly seemed... a little cute.

Well, aside from the cold attitude. And the impatience.

"That's because of his condition," Keith clarified.

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine. Tell him not to be embarrassed about being innocent. No one's going to hurt his pride."

"..."

The cleaning staff arrived, and the two of them walked out.

"So, will you accept the offer?" Keith asked again.

"No," Freya answered. "After all, I smell like rotten eggs, right?"

She was going to remember that insult for the rest of her life.

She turned to leave, but his next words stopped her.

"My boss will pay off all your debts."

Her ears practically twitched.

'How does he know about my debts? Was he stalking me?'

She turned back, smiling sweetly. "No, thank you."

She turned again.

"You'll be paid double your current salary at the club."

Freya clenched her teeth.

No. No. She must not be swayed by that offer.

No.

"Triple," Keith added.

Wtf.

Triple the salary and she wouldn't have to deal with those disgusting men anymore?

Her hand tightened into a fist. Her heart pounded.

Keith noticed the hesitation. "My boss also knows you've been followed by a perverted stalker lately. He can take care of that for you."

Damn.

He knew that much?

"You don't have a home. My boss will buy you a luxury house in the city center."

Argh.

Was this even real?

Freya had seen too many men pretend to be rich just to enjoy being accompanied at karaoke. Most of them were rotten inside.

No. She had dealt with enough bad luck already. No matter how tempting it sounded... what if this was just another lie?

"Miss, if you're not interested-"

Freya turned back, finally making up her mind.

"I... will. I'll take it. Please take care of me."

They walked toward the lobby together. Not far away, Nathaniel's car was parked. He stood there, half-hidden in the shadows, looking in their direction.

For a brief moment, Freya thought-

Well... not bad.

At the very least, it might be an interesting experience.

Yeah.

She needed the money anyway.

...to be continued...