[Marriage First, Love Later + Celibate Doctor × Queen of the Auction Block + Push and Pull to the Limit]
To get my family off my back about marriage, I signed an agreement to wed a psychologist.
By day, he was the composed and self-disciplined Dr. Gu, while I was Miss Jiang, dazzling everyone on the auction stage.
We agreed not to interfere in each other’s lives and to get what we needed from the arrangement.
Until he added a clause to the agreement: if my heart rate went over 120, he’d receive an alert.
The day a client pointed at me and screamed abuse, he raced over from his clinic. His tie was loose, his eyes red. He pinned me against the car door and rasped, “The agreement never said you could let other people bully you.”
Only later did I discover that his surname was engraved inside the wedding ring. He’d had it engraved the day before we signed the agreement.
And he’d crossed out clause seven, “Neither party may develop romantic feelings for the other,” writing beside it: Void as of today.
[Cool, aloof, celibate psychologist × Dazzling queen of the auction block. When grown-ups lose control of their reason, the push and pull goes to the limit, sweet enough to make your knees weak.]
