Zaur Yusupov was always the one I hated. A womanizer who doesn’t miss a single skirt, a major who thinks he can get away with anything. That must be why he kidnapped me to teach me a lesson, but we got caught and he had to marry me. We entered into a fictitious marriage, agreeing that it would last five years, but we did not expect that mutual passion would capture us so much that at the end of the contract we both would not want to leave.