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Want You Back

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“What more can I do for you, what exactly do you want from me, Raymond? I and my family are no longer indebted to you!” Lizzie yelled, holding on to another man. “You are mine and mine alone. You cannot belong to another! You are mine!” Raymond asserted jealously. *** Raymond Davis has been unfortunate in matters of love, he's had two failed marriages in the past. But, as a big businessman and a public figure, he needed a wife to command respect and to be perceived as a responsible man in the community. So, he decided to buy one by paying off her family debt and then refused to appreciate or see her as a wife beyond publicity. Elizabeth Brown on the other hand is a brilliant young lady with a bright future ahead of her but her dream came crumbling when her parent chose to use her as the cheque to clear off their debt in an arranged marriage with Raymond. Raymond's game came over when Lizzie becomes independent and chose to divorce him. What will be Raymond's fate when he later discovers his love for Lizzie while Lizzie on the other hand is quickly moving on with her life?

A Marriage Agreement?

“Mr. Davis is ready to see you,” his secretary, Miss. Ruth said to the youthful lady who had been sitting outside the boss’ office for almost two hours.“

Lizzie was not in her Sunday clothes but she had managed to get wrinkles out of them. Her pleated skirt and shirt were starched till it was as stiff as an old snobbish lady. She had thought that the security would not let her in and she was afraid considering how poorly dressed she was.

She managed to push her thick glasses up her nose, every now and then while she kept playing with her fingers out of anxiety. From the newspapers and internet business news, Mr. Davis was definitely not an ordinary man. She wondered how her father could have known such a powerful man as Raymond Davis.

“Thank you,” she said and gradually stood to her feet.

She clutched her purse close to her chest, for she was as petrified as a chick.

Her heels were broken from the impact of jumping off the bus and they clack noisily against the milky tiles.

Her embarrassment doubled when people turned their necks to locate where the irritating noise was coming from.

She was going to take them off when she first arrived but she thought it makes her look more desperate than she already was and she wouldn't want that. So, she decided to keep them.

She knocked on the door twice in other to alert the office occupant of her presence and that she was coming in before finally pulling the door open.

The office was surreal, a dream that was too beautiful to exist on Earth. All corner was painted white: be it the tiles, the tables, the lattices, and the trash can was not excluded. The couches were white as well and buttery soft to the touch but they were moved to a side of the room, probably meant for the informal company. The marble tiles had radiants to them that could stop the observer from thinking clearly. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

Immediately, Lizzie felt self-conscious, looking down at her well-worn clothes and ugly shoes. Her mother had sold her jewelry to get her the heels two years before and now, they were no longer in vogue and tight. She still found it hard to believe how and why the receptionist had let her through the front door.

Maybe, it was because she had told her she had an appointment.

She looked at the exquisite decor in awe, she was delighted by the artistic designs.

“Who are you?” a cold, masculine voice asked from a corner of the room.

The owner of the deep baritone revealed himself afterward, standing two heads taller than Lizzie. He took leisure strides towards her. No one would call those strides lazy, but rather confident.

Lizzie stood transfixed by the beauty of the man coming to her. He held a mug of warm coffee in his firm grip and his green eyes cleverly took in her appearance in a sweeping gaze.

Displeasure was written over his face as evidence that he was not pleased with what he saw. He obviously didn't try to hide it in his irritated countenance.

Lizzie subconsciously took two steps back and tilted her head back a bit to be able to meet his eye level. He had his gaze fixed and unwavering, unnerving the young woman.

Her heels became unstable underneath her and she retreated unsteadily.

“S...sir...” she stuttered, her tongue got tied up in wonder.

“G–Good morning, sir. My name is Elizabeth Brown and my father sent me to you. He said you would help us.”

He lifted his perfectly carved brow in amazement and finally went back to his desk.

Lizzie sighed in relief and took his action as a hint to have a seat. She was about to sink into a swivel chair when his cold baritone voice caught her off guard again.

“I have not confirmed your identity and I did not ask you to sit. Maintain your position until I confirm who you truly are. Tell me who your father is.”

Lizzie straightened her back and pushed up her glasses again, fidgeting under the spotlight of his eyes. “My father is Mr. Donald Brown. Earlier before now, he told me that he had a discussion with you concerning our... family problems.” She did not want to use the word ‘debt’ and assumed the alternative would be more presentable to the ears. It was embarrassing that it had to get to the extent where her family had to formally beg for financial assistance.

Three years ago, when at his wit’s end, her father, Donald Brown had gone to the bank seeking a loan. Back then, it was termite season and his furniture store had suffered as a result of that. His store stank of rotten wood and no one wanted substandard goods. He had a huge loss that year and he could not recover in time to cater for Lizzie and Henry’s tuition fees. Then, he resulted to borrow from financial organizations which was a difficult one for him as he had no collateral. In the long run, he approached a loan shack that granted his request, after he had used his store as collateral and agreed that his whole family is liable if unable to pay as at when due. Unfortunately, it was past time to pay and two million dollars was an amount that he did not own. The people are now after him and his family and Mr. Davis was their only hope at that point.

“Donald Brown is your father?” he questioned, doubt dripping from his words.

“It seems the apple fell a bit far from the tree. And I did not expect your father to send you here so soon, by the way. We just spoke last week concerning this issue and I have not yet concluded. Nevertheless, a delay is dangerous and time is money. Have a seat, Miss ...”

“Lizzie. Lizzie Brown, sir,” she reminded him and he nodded, waving his hand here and there like her name was unimportant. Unfortunately, as she sat down on the chair, she popped a few stitches in her skirt and the sound echoed aloud in the big room. Icy, green eyes found their way to her and she shrank further into the cushioned chair.

Mr. Davis scoffed in disgust and slipped a document onto his flat tabletop. He quickly scribbled his signature on it and slid it in front of her afterward, dropping the ballpoint beside the document. Lizzie glanced at the heading on the document and froze in her chair.

“A marriage agreement? Am I to marry you?”

Make up your mind

Raymond was taken aback by her nonsensical question. She looked genuinely surprised like she was just hearing the topic for the first time but he wasn't going to believe because he had assumed that Donald had discussed the whole thing with his daughter. Personally, he was not too happy about getting shackled into marriage with an ill-looking young lady after two failed marriages but this seems to be his best shoot at getting back his dignity and respect socially.

Elizabeth Brown reminded him of one of the orphans in a charity home he had recently donated a huge sum of money to. She looked distasteful and lacked simple fashion sense. He still has the scars of divorce to prove that all women were the same. Once they perceived that a man was wealthy, they did everything humanly possible to burrow their way into his life and immediately they got what they wanted, they were on their way. And sure Elizabeth is no difference in anyway. At least, he had enough experience to prov


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