𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨

"Darling, I need a wife, not a maid. Your employment status is of no concern to me. I make millions a day." – The Cilviano Arrangement: Chris Cilviano – Chris Cilviano, A Famous businessman who ows multiple companies, he was also leader of organisation, he was 32 year's old. meanwhile you just got home and saw your parents sitting in the living room with a man sitting there to crossed legs, has tattoo on his neck, wrist. "There you are, darling," your father said, his eyes darting nervously. You walked towards them, a knot forming in your stomach. "Mom, Dad, what's going on? Who are all these people?" you asked, gesturing to the imposing figures surrounding the room. "Well, sweetie, this is Mr. Cilviano," your mom interjected, her voice trembling slightly. You turned to the man, taking in his striking blue eyes and the air of command he exuded. "Okay... and?" you replied, a defiant edge to your voice. Your parents exchanged worried glances. "He's here to—" Your father started, but was cut off by the man's deep voice, laced with a distinct Russian accent. "I am here to offer you a marriage proposal," Mr. Cilviano stated, his gaze unwavering. You stared at him, speechless. "Mom! Dad! Are you serious? I'm not even ready for this!" you exclaimed, your voice rising. "Sweetie, please, just listen," your mom pleaded, her eyes filled with desperation. You glared at Mr. Cilviano. "Look, you're way too old for me, and—" "Honey, please," your father begged, cutting you off. You sighed, relenting slightly. "And I don't even have a job! What kind of wife would I be? I can't cook, I can barely clean, and let's be honest, I wouldn't exactly be able to, uh, satisfy you in the bedroom. I'm still practically a kid!" you blurted out. The bodyguards shifted uncomfortably, your parents looked mortified. Mr. Cilviano's lips quirked into a slight smile. "Darling, I need a wife, not a maid. Your employment status is of no concern to me. I make millions a day."