Rich Radiant and Over Him (Alicia and Vincent) novel Chapter 9

Alicia pressed the doorbell, shifting uneasily on the doorstep.

A housekeeper opened the door, surprise flickering across her face at the sight of Alicia—soaked to the skin and looking utterly disheveled.

"Oh, my dear…" The woman had no idea what Alicia had been through, but she welcomed her in all the same. She fetched a fresh pair of slippers and, with a gentle touch, draped a soft shawl around Alicia's shoulders.

"Mr. Lynch is in a video meeting," she said kindly. "He told me you'd be coming. Just have a seat in the living room and wait a moment, will you? I'll go make you some warm sweet soup."

Alicia felt a pang of gratitude. Kindness from strangers was rare in her life, but something about this housekeeper put her at ease.

She glanced nervously around the living room, mesmerized by the elegant décor. She didn't dare sit down—worried she'd sully Mr. Lynch's spotless cream sofa.

It was obvious: Mr. Lynch was a man of means and refined taste. Judging by the immaculate order of his home, he was probably a gentleman, too.

She waited barely three minutes before Mr. Lynch emerged from his study—not long at all.

He was dressed casually, likely straight from the shower, his hair still damp and tousled.

Mr. Lynch looked about the same age as Vincent, but his features were sharper, more striking—the kind of face that would hold its own even among movie stars.

Suddenly, Alicia felt a wave of insecurity and second thoughts. Why would someone like him ever want to marry her?

"Mr. Lynch," she managed, her voice tentative.

He paused, taking in Alicia's drenched and bedraggled state. "Did you just save the world or something? What happened to you?"

Alicia froze, dropping her gaze, embarrassed. For someone with such a reputation, Mr. Lynch's bluntness was unexpected—almost unkind.

"Wilma, take her to get cleaned up and find her some dry clothes," he said, frowning as he looked Alicia up and down. "Anyone who didn't know better would think a stray wandered in."

His words were laced with sarcasm, but then he turned and fetched some cold medicine, mixing it into a glass of water and bringing it over to her.

Alicia was almost taken aback. Acts of kindness had been so rare for her. "Th-thank you."

After much hesitation, she finally dried her hair and stepped out.

Tyrone Lynch was in the living room, still waiting, speaking quietly on the phone.

Alicia lingered just out of sight, not wanting to disturb him.

He caught sight of her, ended his call, and picked up the prenuptial agreement. "Shall we talk?"

She nodded and stepped forward. "Mr. Lynch, could you tell me your terms?"

He laid the contract on the coffee table. "Marry me. The arrangement will last three to five years—until my grandfather passes away, there's to be no talk of divorce. We won't have to act as a real couple, and the marriage will stay private. You'll play the part of my granddaughter-in-law for family gatherings. Here's my secondary credit card—use it however you need while we're married. When it ends, you'll keep this apartment in Seaview City. Everything else is spelled out in the contract."

Alicia stared at him, stunned. He sounded less like a man proposing marriage and more like someone offering a business partnership, a job.

But the terms… were generous beyond anything she'd imagined.