The billionaire's forbidden wife

Chapter One -THE BILLIONAIRE'S BARGAIN Anastasia Vale had never been the kind of woman who believed in bad omens. Until the night she met Alexander Blackwood. The first thing she noticed about him was his eyes. The second was that he was staring at her like she had personally offended him. Anastasia frowned. “Can I help you?” He didn't answer. He simply lifted the glass in his hand and took a slow sip. She looked away. Men like him were exactly why she avoided expensive parties. They came dressed in perfectly tailored suits, surrounded by beautiful women, and carried themselves as though the entire room had been constructed for their entertainment. She was only here because her best friend, Clara, had practically dragged her through the hotel doors. “You promised you'd stay for one hour,” Clara whispered beside her. “I've been here forty-seven minutes.” “Exactly. Three more minutes.” Anastasia sighed. “I hate you.” “No, you don't.” “Yes, I do.” clara laughed and disappeared into the crowd before Anastasia could stop her. Anastasia reached for her phone. Her mother's message from earlier was still on the screen. Please come home soon. We need to talk. “Leaving already?” Anastasia looked up. The stranger from the bar was standing in front of her. Up close, he was even more intimidating. Tall. Dark-haired. Broad shoulders. Expensive watch. And those eyes. Cold. Unusually cold. “I was thinking about it.” “Then you should.” She blinked. “Excuse me?” His expression didn't change. “This isn't a place for someone like you.” Her eyebrows rose. “Someone like me?” He looked at her simple black dress. Then back at her face. “Someone who doesn't belong.” Anastasia stared at him for several seconds. Then she smiled. Not because she found him amusing. Because she was trying very hard not to throw her drink at him. “You know what?” she said. “You're right.” He looked mildly surprised. She stepped closer. “I don't belong here.” Then she deliberately poured the rest of her champagne onto his expensive shoes. “But neither do you.” His jaw tightened. Anastasia turned and walked away. She didn't see the expression that crossed his face. She didn't see him look down at his shoes. And she certainly didn't hear the words he murmured under his breath. “Interesting.” Alexander Blackwood hated surprises. He hated unpredictability. He hated people who didn't follow instructions. And apparently, he was going to hate Anastasia Vale. “Who is she?” His assistant, Daniel, glanced toward the exit. “The woman who just poured champagne on your shoes?” Alexander gave him a look. Daniel cleared his throat. “Yes. Her.” “Find out.” “Why?” Alexander looked at him. Daniel immediately regretted asking. “Of course.” Alexander turned back toward the ballroom. They all smiled the same way. They all shook his hand. They all laughed at jokes that weren't funny. Anastasia Vale had been different. She had looked at him like he was simply a rude man. Not Alexander Blackwood. Not the billionaire whose company had recently been valued at several billion dollars. Just a rude man. “Sir?” Daniel returned. Alexander looked at him. “Her name is Anastasia Vale.” “Family?” “Nothing significant. She works at a small publishing company. Lives with her mother. No scandals. No criminal record.” Alexander nodded. “Anything else?” Daniel hesitated. “There is something.” Alexander's expression sharpened. “What?” “Her mother.” “What about her?” “Her name is Elena Vale.” Alexander went completely still. For the first time that night, the carefully controlled billionaire looked genuinely unsettled. “Are you sure?” “Yes.” Alexander stared at the ballroom. Elena Vale. That name belonged to the past. A past his family had spent twenty-two years burying. And now her daughter had just walked into his life. Anastasia's mother was waiting when she got home. The lights were off. Only the kitchen light was on. “Mum?” Elena turned around. She looked frightened. Anastasia immediately knew something was wrong. “What happened?” “Sit down.” “Mum—” “Please.” Anastasia sat. Elena took a deep breath. “There is something I should have told you a long time ago.” Anastasia's stomach tightened. “What?” Before Elena could answer, someone knocked on the door. Three times. Slowly. Elena's face went pale. “Don't answer it.” The knocking came again. Anastasia stood. “Mum, who is that?” “I said don't.” But it was too late. The door opened. A man in a black suit stood outside. He handed Anastasia an envelope. “For you.” She took it. “Who sent this?” “The Blackwood family.” Her heart stopped. She opened the envelope. Inside was a letter. Mr. Alexander Blackwood requests your presence tomorrow at ten o'clock. Anastasia looked at her mother. “Mum?” Elena closed her eyes. “Oh God.” The Blackwood mansion looked less like a home and more like a fortress. Alexander was waiting in his study. He didn't offer her a seat. She sat anyway. “You invited me.” “I did.” “So talk.” He studied her. “You're direct.” “You're wasting my time.” Something almost resembling amusement crossed his face. Then it disappeared. “I know who your mother is.” Anastasia's smile faded. “What does that mean?” “Ask her.” “I did. She won't tell me.” Alexander walked toward the window. “Your mother was involved with my family twenty-two years ago.” “Romantically?” He turned. “No.” The answer came too quickly. Anastasia noticed. “What happened?” “I can't tell you.” She stood. “Then why am I here?” “Because I need something from you.” She laughed bitterly. “Of course.” Alexander reached for a document. “A marriage.” She stared at him. Then laughed. “You've lost your mind.” “I haven't.” “You want me to marry you?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because it's the only way to protect you.” Her laughter stopped. “Protect me from what?” Alexander's expression hardened. “My family.” She should have walked away. She knew that. Any sensible woman would have. But her mother's reaction haunted her. She had never seen Elena afraid before. Alexander placed a contract on the desk. “One year.” Anastasia stared at it. “One year?” “After one year, we divorce.” “And what do I get?” “Five million dollars.” She looked at him. “Is that supposed to impress me?” “No.” “Good.” Alexander leaned back. “You'll also receive a house, financial security for your mother, and protection.” “Why me?” His eyes darkened. “Because you're the only woman who can make this marriage believable.” “Believable to whom?” He didn't answer. That frightened her more than anything else. She pushed the contract away. “No.” She stood. Alexander didn't stop her. But as she reached the door, he said quietly: “Your mother owes my family a debt.” Anastasia froze. “What debt?” “She knows.” She turned. “What did my mother do?” Alexander's face became unreadable. “Ask her.” Elena finally told her. Not everything. But enough. Twenty-two years ago, Elena had worked for the Blackwood family. She had been close to Alexander's father. Then something happened. A woman died. Money disappeared. And Elena was blamed. “I didn't do it,” Elena whispered. Anastasia sat beside her. “Then why did you run?” “Because they threatened you.” Anastasia's heart broke. “You left because of me?” “I left because they said if I didn't disappear, they would take you away.” “Who?” Elena looked toward the window. “The Blackwoods.” Anastasia's phone rang. Alexander. She answered. “I'll marry you.” There was silence. “Are you sure?” “No.” His voice softened. “You should be.” “I said I'll marry you.” “Then there's one thing you need to understand.” “What?” “This marriage will come with rules.” She smiled bitterly. “I'm listening.” “No falling in love.” Anastasia's smile disappeared. “Don't worry.” She looked at her mother. “I wasn't planning to.” The wedding happened twelve days later. No flowers. No family celebration. No romance. Just cameras, lawyers and a room full of strangers. Anastasia wore a simple ivory dress. Alexander wore black. When he looked at her walking toward him, something shifted inside his chest. He ignored it. She stopped beside him. “You look nervous,” he whispered. “I'm considering running.” “You won't.” “How arrogant.” “I'm beginning to know you.” “You barely know me.” His eyes met hers. “Maybe I want to.” She looked away. The ceremony lasted twenty minutes. Then Alexander placed the ring on her finger. His fingers brushed hers. Neither moved. For one strange second, the entire room disappeared. Then applause erupted. They were husband and wife. And neither of them knew what they had just started. The first night in the Blackwood mansion was awkward. Anastasia stood in the enormous bedroom. “There is only one bed.” Alexander removed his jacket. “I'll sleep elsewhere.” She looked surprised. “You don't have to.” “I know.” He walked toward the door. “Alexander?” He stopped. “Why did you really marry me?” He didn't turn around. “Because I needed a wife.” “That isn't the whole truth.” “No.” He finally looked at her. “But it's the only part you're getting.” Then he left. Anastasia stared after him. She had a feeling she had just married the most complicated man alive. The following morning, Alexander took her to breakfast with his family. His mother looked her up and down. “This is her?” Alexander's jaw tightened. “This is my wife.” His mother ignored the compliment. “She doesn't belong here.” Anastasia placed her fork down. “I've heard that before.” Alexander glanced at her. His sister nearly smiled. His mother didn't. Then an older man entered the room. Alexander's uncle. The moment he saw Anastasia, the color drained from his face. He whispered: “Elena.” Anastasia stood. “Excuse me?” The man looked terrified. Alexander noticed. And suddenly, he understood. His uncle knew exactly who she was. That afternoon, Anastasia wandered into the library. She found an old photograph. A young Elena stood beside Alexander's father. Anastasia picked it up. Then she noticed the woman standing behind them. She looked familiar. Very familiar. A little girl stood beside the woman. Anastasia's breath caught. The little girl was her. She dropped the photograph. Alexander appeared in the doorway. “What are you doing?” She turned. “Who is she?” He looked at the photograph. His expression changed. “Where did you find that?” “Who is that woman?” “Anastasia—” “Why am I in your family photograph?” Silence. Alexander walked toward her. “Give me the photograph.” “No.” “Anastasia.” “Tell me the truth.” He reached for it. She stepped back. And for the first time since their marriage,