Roman His Contract Wife chapitre Chapitre 2

Leila was floored. She pinched her thighs to wake herself up from this nightmare but the man didn’t disappear.

“Hi,” he murmured. “I’m Carlson.”

“Hi,” she replied. Pulling out her phone, she tapped on Carlson’s Tinder profile and zoomed in. “Um, I don’t mean to be rude but I’m waiting for this person.”

Leila slid the phone to him so he could see the man on her screen. A tall, handsome man with blue eyes that saw into her soul, not this short man over here with brown eyes and a scalp that was almost balding. He didn’t even have a beard.

The fake Carlson laughed. Was his name even Carlson? It could be but he wasn’t her Carlson?

“Yeah, that’s me, Leila.” Her heart rolled to her feet. The urge to slap off the smirk on his face grew and she clenched her hands under the table. No, this was a prank. “You work an eight to five job. Your friend owns the pet you used as your profile picture.”

Right. “I don’t believe you.” He laughed again. Her misery must be funny because why the hell was he laughing? She grabbed her phone, stared long and hard at the man on her screen, then back at the different man seated across her. “We had a video call.”

“With my cousin,” he supplied.

Drumming her fingers on the table, she said, “So this person is real but it’s just not you?” Carlson nodded again. His confidence annoyed her. He should be on his knees, grovelling and begging for forgiveness. Not like she would forgive him. She lost interest the minute he waved at her from the door. “You’re short.”

Her face squeezed in horror but she didn’t take back the words. He lied. He lied about everything. Even his face wasn’t the same.

“Am I?”

“Your bio says you’re 6 foot 4.”

“Does it?” He laughed through his reply and her hand closed around her milkshake. She should pour it on him and call it a mistake. This date was a mistake. “Oops, must have meant to write 5’4.”

Leila was 5’8.

Unlike him, she didn’t find this funny. And when the dumbass finally noticed, he asked, “Does that bother you?”

“Yes. A lot, actually.” She gathered her things, shoved her phone into her handbag. Bringing out some dollar bills to pay for her drink, her glare froze Carlson in place when he offered to pay. Leila slapped the bills onto the table. “I can pick my own tab, Carlson. Thank you very much.”

For once, he looked uncertain. Did he really think she would have laughed this off? He must be out of his mind. Him and his stupidly handsome cousin.

“I’m sorry,” Carlson murmured.

On her feet, she replied, “Yeah, me too.”

“You’re leaving?” No. She was getting ready to sleep here. One more stupid question out of him and she would smash his face with her handbag. “I thought you said appearance didn’t matter.”

“Appearance doesn’t matter when the man you’re chatting with looks like your cousin,” she said.

His expression crumbled but she felt nothing but pity for herself. Appearances didn’t matter as much to her like she told him earlier. But for him to blatantly lie to her and expect her to forget everything, now, that was the height of this.

“Thank you for showing up,” she told him.

After one last fake smile directed at the waiter approaching their table, she stepped out and inhaled Carlson free air.

Stupid men. Stupid Tinder. Stupid her.

Walking to the gates with no clear destination in mind, her steps slowed when her phone rang. She knew before she picked the call, it was Freya. Leila kept close to the curb, the honks of cars zooming past her muffled by the earbuds she plugged in.

“What about your date?” her friend asked.

The wallet caught her eyes as she pulled out her purse from her handbag. It would be a miracle if she found the owner. “He died. Where are you?”

“He died! How?”

Leila paused so she could think up a better reply. People brushed past her without so much as a glance in her direction and she hugged her bag tighter to her chest. What about her date?

“Did I say die? I mean, he...he couldn’t make it.”

“Leilani May Collins.” She winced at the use of her full name. She had to do better as a liar since she was terrible. “What happened to your date?”

“I’m going to say this only once.” With two fingers raised up, she flagged down a taxi. The taxi stopped in front of her, she moved her bag to the other hand and opened the backdoor. “I got catfished.”

A sigh escaped her as she settled into the backseat of the taxi. She pulled the phone from her ear to be sure Freya was still on the line.

“Where are you?” Freya whispered.


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