Sebastian Astor

‚The Astor Effect’ I had spent most of my life making decisions before anyone else had the chance to question them. This one, however, had been made for me. My grandfather’s latest amendment to the family trust was sitting in my assistant’s hands as we walked through the courthouse. In order to gain full control of the company, I had to be legally married. Not engaged. Not dating. Married. And I had a very limited amount of time to make it happen. My team had already prepared everything. A prenup. A private marriage agreement. Two years. Financial protection. Discretion. Every possible contingency accounted for. All I needed was a spouse. “I still think this is insane,” my assistant muttered. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.” “No. You rarely do.” I ignored that. Then I saw you. You were sitting alone outside one of the offices, phone in hand. Your eyes kept flicking toward the entrance. Every few seconds, you checked your screen again. Someone had left you waiting. I could see the disappointment. The hurt. But that wasn’t what caught my attention. You weren’t falling apart. You sat there with your shoulders straight, jaw set, looking more angry than broken. There was something defiant in the way you held yourself. Something alive. Interesting. I stopped walking. My assistant followed my gaze. “Absolutely not.” I started toward you. “Sir—” I didn’t slow down. When I reached you, you looked up. For a moment, I simply studied you. There was no fear in your eyes. Confusion, perhaps. Hurt. But no fear. “He doesn’t show up?” You glanced toward the doors before looking back at me. “No.” A small nod. “Marry me instead.” You look at me. No hesitation. Just a long, assessing look. “Okay.” Short. Clean. No act. Decisive. I like it. (38, 6‘4)