Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You-Chapter 59: One Kiss

Back then continues...

Sarah

I have him. I can already feel it.

His wall is breaking. Bit by bit. And soon, he will fall in love with me and forget all about Amanda.

The waiter appears with our appetizers, and I watch as Matthew shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He’s trying so hard to maintain his distance, but I can see the cracks forming.

"Tell me something," he says after the waiter leaves. "Did we actually sleep together that night?"

I pause, my fork hovering over my plate. "Does it matter now?"

His eyes darken. "Yes, it fucking matters."

I set my fork down carefully. "You really don’t remember?"

"No," he says, voice tight. "I don’t."

I consider him for a moment, weighing my options. The truth is a dangerous thing—it can set you free or destroy everything you’ve built.

"I told you," I say finally. "It happened. Can we stop talking about it now?"

"Hmm..." he hums but doesn’t push the matter.

I take a bite of my appetizer, savoring the taste as I let the quiet stretch out. I know it’s only a matter of time before the next crack in his armor comes.

"So," I begin. "Tell me about your family."

He looks at me. "My family?"

I nod. "Yeah. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

He leans back in his seat, setting his fork down, clearly taken aback by the shift in conversation.

"I have a younger sister. Her name is Hailey," he replies.

I lean in a little, intrigued. "Hailey," I repeat. "What’s she like?"

Matthew runs a hand through his hair, his gaze momentarily flicking away as if he’s trying to gather his thoughts. "She’s... smart. Funny. A little wild, I guess," he says, the edge in his voice softening just a fraction. "She’s a handful, but she’s my little sister. I love her."

There’s a softness in his tone when he speaks about her, and it makes me smile.

"Sounds like you’re close," I remark.

He shrugs, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "We are. But she is quite young. Just like you."

I can’t help but smile back. "I am not that young!"

Matthew’s gaze narrows at my protest. "You’re like what, nineteen?"

"Twenty next month," I correct, leaning forward. "And age is just a number."

He takes a slow sip of wine, studying me over the rim of his glass. "Is that what you tell yourself?"

I shrug, unfazed by his condescension. "It’s what I know. My mother was five years younger than my father."

"And how did that work out?" he asks, a sharp edge to his voice.

I feel my smile falter, just for a second. "They are happy."

Until they weren’t, but he doesn’t need to know that part.

Matthew sighs, setting his glass down. "Look, Sarah—"

"No," I interrupt, reaching for his hand across the table. This time, he doesn’t pull away. Progress. "You don’t have to explain why you think this won’t work. I already know all your objections."

His eyebrow arches. "Do you now?"

I count them off on my fingers. "You’re still hung up on Amanda. You think I’m too young. You’re worried about your job." I lean closer, lowering my voice. "But none of that matters, Matthew. Not really."

He laughs, the sound dry and disbelieving. "And why is that?"

"Because I’m patient," I say simply. "And I always get what I want."

"You’re very confident," he remarks.

I smile. "It’s one of my best qualities."

The waiter returns with our entrees, and I watch as Matthew cuts into his steak, movements precise and controlled.

"So," I say, taking a bite of my food. "Tell me more about Hailey. What does she do?"

Matthew hesitates like he’s deciding whether to indulge me or shut down the conversation. Finally, he relents. "She’s in college. Art major."

"That’s wonderful," I say, genuinely interested. "Is she talented?"

A ghost of a smile passes over his face. "Very. She’s always been creative, even as a kid."

I laugh. "My father would have had a stroke if I chose art instead of business."

"Is he controlling?" Matthew observes.

I nod, twirling pasta around my fork. "He is a little. But he loves me. He’d do anything for me."

"Including pressuring his employee to date you?" Matthew asks, his voice quiet but pointed.

I meet his gaze steadily. "He didn’t pressure you! It was all me."

Matthew studies me for a long moment. "You are something else, Sarah."

"Am I?" I tilt my head. "I’m just enjoying myself."

He snorts softly. "At least one of us is."

I refuse to let his mood dampen mine. "You could try, you know. It might not be so terrible."

"Dating the boss’s daughter under duress?" He raises an eyebrow. "Forgive me if I don’t see the appeal."

"It’s only duress if you’re not willing," I counter, leaning forward. "And I think there’s a part of you that is."

Matthew sets his fork down, eyes darkening. "Don’t flatter yourself."

"I don’t need to." I reach for my wine, taking a slow sip. "Your eyes do it for me."

He laughs, shaking his head. "You’re delusional."

"Am I?" I hold his gaze. "Then why are you still here?"

"I don’t know. The food is great here," he says, his eyes are twinkling with amusement. "Your dad never showed up."

"That’s because it’s a date and it’d be awkward if he was here," I declare.

"So you lie to me to get me here?" Matthew furrows his brows.

"A little. Hey, do you want to go for a walk in the park after this?" I suggest and look at him expectantly, even though I know he will say no.

"Yeah...sure," he says, surprising me.

I beam at him. "Really? You’re actually up for it?"

He nods, a faint smirk still tugging at his lips. "Yeah, why not? It’s a date, right?"

My heart sings with happiness. This night is going better than I ever imagined.

Matthew pays for dinner despite my protests—a gentlemanly gesture that sends a small thrill through me. Maybe he’s warming up to this arrangement more quickly than I expected.

The night air is cool as we step outside, stars scattered across the dark canvas above us. Matthew walks beside me, hands in his pockets, shoulders less tense than they were inside the restaurant.

"This way," I say, leading him toward the park entrance.

"So," Matthew says after we’ve walked in silence for a minute. "What happens when you don’t get what you want?"

I shrug, my shoulder brushing against his arm. "I find another way."

He chuckles, the sound surprisingly genuine. "I’m starting to think you’re a little dangerous, Sarah Wilson."

"Only to those who underestimate me," I reply, feeling bold.

We reach a small bridge arching over a narrow stream, and I pause, leaning against the railing. Matthew stands beside me, looking down at the water rippling below.

"Can I ask you something?" I say, turning to face him.

He nods, eyes reflecting the lamplight. "Go ahead."

"Why do you like Amanda so much?" I ask.

"She sees me," he says finally, voice low. "The real me. Not some version she created in her head."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "And you think I don’t see you?"

"I know you don’t." He turns to face me fully now. "You see what you want to see. A fantasy."

"That’s not true," I protest, stepping closer to him. "I see you, Matthew. I see how loyal you are, how dedicated. I see how you protect the people you care about."

He laughs, the sound hollow. "You’ve known me for what, a few months? And most of that time, we barely spoke."

"Sometimes you just know," I see softly.

Matthew shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "That’s what I’m talking about, Sarah. This fantasy you’ve built up."

"It’s not a fantasy," I insist, reaching for his hand. He lets me take it, which I count as another small victory. "Give me a chance to prove it."

The moonlight catches his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the slight furrow between his brows. God, he’s beautiful when he’s conflicted.

"Will you kiss me?" I whisper.

His eyes turn wide. "Sarah..."

"Just one kiss. A real one. I don’t want to force you, but..."

"Fine," he interrupts. "Just one kiss."

I step closer, heart pounding in my chest, and let go of his hand, my fingers brushing against his palm just briefly before I reach for his face. Slowly, I lift my gaze to meet his.

"Just one kiss," he repeats, and his voice is rough, almost like a warning.

I smile softly, a touch of mischief in my eyes. "Just one."

And then, finally, the space between us closes. Matthew leans down, his lips pressing against mine in a kiss that’s not gentle, but not rough either. It’s like a pull, an unspoken demand, but also a quiet surrender. I feel his hesitation at first, like he’s unsure, but then it fades.

I pull back just slightly, our lips still inches away from each other. My lips curve into a small, victorious smile.

"See?" I whisper, my voice barely audible against the cool night air. "It wasn’t so bad, was it?"

He doesn’t respond right away, his breath still uneven, but his eyes search mine with an intensity that makes my pulse race.

"You’re trouble, Sarah Wilson," he says after a beat.