How to find a Husband in 100 days

One

A/N: Here is the first chapter as promised.

I hope for those who will read this would enjoy the story. This is a really fun plot to write, especially the situation the main character is in. 

P.S. A picture of Michelle Newman on the right.

So, Enjoy and Happy reading!

Have an awesome day!

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One

The car beside me slowly down as I turned to an intersection where the heart of the city is located. It's just an ordinary day when I meet heavy traffic with bumper-to-bumper scenarios. While I drive my way to a meeting, I can't help but think what it was about. We usual take business meeting at the main office conference room. But, today, I'm driving myself to a hotel.

As I stopped on the driveway, the valet guy quickly runs towards the driver side as I got out. For a moment, the valet watched me with an awestruck expression as I got out of the car. I raised my eyebrow at him as I closed the door behind me and handed him the key to my silver, Boxster S Porsche.

“Don’t go crazy.” I said teasingly.

“Ah… Ms. Newman. Good Morning, Ma’am.” He greeted shyly as he regain back his ability to speak.

“Good morning too.” I gave him a small encouraging smile and patted his shoulder as I walked around the car. “I’ll be back in a few, so don’t park the car far.” I instructed when I was a few paced from the entree way.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He nodded his head slightly before jumping in to my car.

I entered the hotel in a confident stride, feeling familiar with the place. Well, how can I not be? My family owned it and most of the hotel in the country and a few overseas. When I reached the middle of the lobby, I saw the general manager walking towards me with a beaming smile.

“Ms. Newman. They are at the dining hall.” He stated urgently, though he didn’t looked fazed by this.

I was late, slightly late – about fifteen minutes late. The traffic from the main office to the hotel was really bad. It wasn’t my fault the old man suddenly called a meeting on a Friday rush hour morning. I was half at fault with my tardiness.

In quick strides, the general manager guided me towards the meeting room. When I reached the small, conference looking room, which was huge enough to fit at least twenty five people instead of five old board members and, Benedict Newman, my father, plus me. He was wearing his usual clean-cut gray suit and black tie. I think I haven't seen my father in much color further than the shade of black and white.

I didn’t make any grand announcement or greeting as I entered the room since my father was already talking about something. So, I quietly said good morning and sat down on the empty chair on the right side of my father, who was seating at the head of the oval table placed in the middle of the room.

After I sat down, my father cut his talk and faced me skeptically. “Traffic?” He asked softly.