Spoilt Princess Reincarnate As a Waitress

Alexia's POV

So there I was, stomping away triumphantly after giving Mr. Almond Milk Guy and his stupidly expensive car a taste of my wrath. My life was a disaster, but at least I had this one little victory, right?

Wrong.

The sound of a car engine in reverse broke through the rain, and I turned around to see the same stupid luxury car creeping along behind me. Are you kidding me right now?

What is it with this guy? Can't he take a hint?

The sound of the car engine in reverse was like nails on a chalkboard. I kept walking, fuming, refusing to look back. What was this guy's problem? Couldn't he just accept his mud-splattered fate and move on?

Then, curiosity got the better of me, and I glanced over my shoulder.

Yep, the stupid car was still following me. Backward. In the rain. It was like a scene straight out of one of those cheesy rom-coms—except this wasn't cute. This was infuriating.

I stopped in my tracks, spinning around to face him, arms crossed and rain dripping off my nose. "What do you want?" I snapped, my frustration bubbling over.

The car screeched to a halt, and the back window rolled down. There he was. Mr. Almond Milk Guy, leaning out of the window like he was some kind of mafia boss. His face was cleaner now, but his suit? Still delightfully mud-streaked. I had to admit, it was a good look on him—definitely suited his personality.

"Marry me," he said.

Wait. What?

I blinked, certain I must've misheard him. "What did you just say?"

"Marry me," he repeated, his tone as calm and serious as if he were discussing the weather.

For a second, the rain seemed to stop. The world went quiet. All I could hear was the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Then it hit me.

This jerk—this entitled, arrogant, mud-splattered jerk—hadn't asked me to marry him. No, he'd told me to. It wasn't a question; it was a statement. Like he was declaring that the sky was blue or that gravity existed.

What the actual fuck?

I huffed, turning to walk away. "Go bother someone else. I've got better things to do than deal with your rich-boy tantrums."

The car followed me. Again.

I stopped, my fists clenching at my sides. I spun around, my patience snapping like an overused rubber band.

"Listen, if you're trying to intimidate me, it's not going to work. You can't call this assault. It was just mud!"

He arched a brow, looking almost amused. "Assault? I wasn't going to press charges."

"Oh, really?" I crossed my arms, glaring at him. "Then why are you stalking me?"

"Stalking?" He tilted his head, like the very idea was absurd. "Let's not get dramatic."

"Dramatic?!" My voice rose an octave. "You're literally following me in reverse. Through the rain. How is that not dramatic?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he leaned back in his seat and gestured for the driver—Tobias, apparently—to stop. The car finally came to a standstill, and Mr. Almond Milk Guy stepped out.

Of course, he didn't bother with an umbrella. The rain just slid off him like it was too scared to ruin his ridiculously expensive hair.

"What do you want?" I demanded again, my voice sharp.

He met my gaze, his expression unreadable. "You owe me."

My jaw dropped. "I owe you? Are you serious right now?"

"You threw mud in my face."

"And you cost me my job!"

"And yet," he said, his tone maddeningly calm, "I'm here. Talking to you. In the rain."

"Well, congratulations," I snapped. "Do you want a medal or something?"

"No," he said simply. "I want you to marry me."

Silence.

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. "Are you out of your damn mind?"

He tilted his head, completely unfazed by my reaction. "I'm perfectly sane, thank you. And I think you'd make an excellent wife."

I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or serious, but either way, I was fuming. "Why the hell would I marry you? You almost killed me! Twice!"

He shrugged. "To be fair, Tobias was the one driving."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't realize that made it better. Let me just forget the fact that your oversized ego and reckless car almost turned me into a pancake."

His lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile. "Look, I'll admit, you're… unconventional. But I like that. Besides, I could use someone like you in my life."

"Unconventional?" I sputtered. "Someone like me? Do you even hear yourself? What kind of proposal is this?"

"It's not a proposal," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "It's a solution. To both our problems."

"What problems?!" I asked, throwing my hands in the air. "My only problem right now is that you won't leave me alone!"

He leaned back on his car, looking far too comfortable for someone who had mud on his thousand-dollar suit while the little rain was still pouring. "You're broke, jobless, and clearly in need of help. I'm rich, influential, and in need of a wife. It's a win-win situation."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. "You can't be serious."

"I'm always serious."

"You're insane," I muttered, turning on my heel to walk away.

"I'll pay off your debts," he called after me.

I froze mid-step.

Oh, no. No, no, no. I wasn't going to let him reel me in with promises of money and security. I had my pride. My dignity. Sure, I was broke, jobless, and probably about to get evicted, but I still had my—

I turned around slowly, glaring at him through the rain. "What makes you think I'd agree to this ridiculous… whatever this is?"

He met my gaze, his expression annoyingly calm. "Because you don't have any other options."

"Are you out of your mind?" I asked again because this was insane.

He didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. "Not at all. In fact, I'd say I'm being remarkably practical."

"Practical?" I repeated, my voice rising. "You think this is practical? Proposing—no, ordering—me to marry you in the middle of the street like some kind of lunatic?"

His lips twitched again, like he was trying not to smile. "I'm not ordering you. I'm asking."

"No, you're not," I shot back. "You're demanding. There's a difference."

He shrugged, completely unfazed. "Fine. Then I'm demanding. The point still stands."

I opened my mouth to yell at him again, but no words came out. I was too stunned, too infuriated, too—okay, maybe just a tiny bit intrigued. But mostly infuriated.

"You're insane," I finally said, turning to walk away.

Oh, he was good. He knew exactly how to press my buttons, didn't he?

He even gave me his card.

"Well, guess what, Mr. Almond Milk," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "I'd rather die broke and jobless than marry you."

And with that, I turned around and walked away, leaving him and his stupid proposal in the rain.

At least, that's what I wanted to do.

But my stupid pride decided to take one last shot.

"You're not even my type!" I yelled over my shoulder.

His laugh echoed through the rain, low and infuriatingly amused.

Yeah, I was definitely going to kill him.