The Price Of Being His

CHAPTER THREE

XANDER

I never really imagined myself getting married. It wasn’t something that ever crossed my mind as a priority in my life. But now, in this moment, with everything happening around me—my parents pressuring me, the board constantly breathing down my neck—suddenly, the thought of it doesn’t seem all that bad. Maybe marriage is the answer, or at least the solution they all want me to find. They expect it, and I’m starting to feel like I have no choice but to follow through, no matter how foreign the idea feels to me.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t bring that blonde gold-digger with you tonight,” my sister, Laura, said, her voice tight with irritation. She forced her lips into a smile, but her eyes betrayed her frustration.

She was careful, making sure her expression remained neutral, fully aware that the cameras were always watching, ready to capture anything that could be twisted or misinterpreted. “I still don’t understand what you see in her.”

My face remained as cold and unreadable as it had been since the moment I walked through the door. “If you want me to avoid you the entire night, then keep talking,” I said flatly.

Laura, not at all impressed by my stoic response, muttered under her breath, though I caught every word. “And of course, you always defend her,” she spat out, clearly annoyed.

She paused, the bitterness in her voice growing more evident. “It’s a good thing you don’t let her show her face in public. You know as well as I do how much damage her identity could do to your reputation if seen together in public.

I ignored Laura completely, directing my attention to Isabelle, who was engaged in an interview with the press on the opposite side of the hall. Her eyes met mine, and she smiled warmly, which I returned with a genuine smile of my own.

“A child of a pimp will always remain one.” Laura emphasised in a low tone and my brow immediately furrowed in disbelief.

I spun around to face her, my patience snapping. “Shut your f*****g mouth if you have nothing reasonable to say,” I snapped. “Your husband f***s every woman he can get his hands on. Shouldn’t you be more worried about that and the damage it would do to your reputation?”

That was it. I was done with her for the night. Without waiting for a response, I grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and made my way toward the other end of the hall, where Isabelle was still talking to the press.

As I neared her, I noticed a slight tension in her posture. She kept rubbing the pendant of the necklace I had bought her the last time we were together. She was nervous, perhaps unsure about something.

“You keep rubbing that pendant,” the interviewer remarked, noticing Isabelle’s repeated gesture. “Is there a special sentiment attached to it?”

For a brief moment, Isabelle’s eyes flicked to mine, but she quickly averted them, her smile never faltering. “Yes, this necklace holds significant meaning to me. It was a gift from someone very important,” she said, her voice soft.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her, the glass in my hand now a mere distraction as I absently twirled the champagne inside.

The interviewer shifted the topic. “Are you planning on staying in New York after the launch of your new product, or will you be returning to Mexico?”

Isabelle’s smile widened, and I noticed the subtle change in her demeanor as she answered. “The original plan was to go back to Mexico after the launch, but things have changed,” she said, her tone slightly more serious. “Now, I intend to stay here for a very, very long time.”

The interviewer raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What changed?” she pressed.

Before Isabelle could respond, I heard my mother’s voice beside me. “That had better be you,” she mused, her voice full of approval as she glanced between Isabelle and me. “Isabelle is the ideal daughter-in-law for this family.”

“I know what’s best for myself and for this family,” I stated, finally bringing the glass of champagne to my lips but just as I was about to enjoy the drink, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

I pulled it out, my eyes briefly scanning the name flashing on the screen—Amara, saved in my contacts as ‘A.’ With no hesitance, I reached to swipe the answer button, but before my finger could make contact, my mother’s hand landed on mine with surprising force.

“Is she the one calling?” she asked, her voice deceptively calm.

I shot her a sharp glare, irritated beyond measure. “Stay out of my f*****g business, will you?” I hissed. “Isn’t it better to have one woman in my life than to be f*****g my way through New York?”

The silence settled between us for a moment before my mother’s voice softened, taking on an almost honeyed tone. “Senator?” she called out with the widest smile. “Your daughter has done a marvelous job with the new oil launch.”

I bit my tongue, forcing myself not to snap back. Isabelle’s father, Mr. Zealot Joe, was one of the most respected businessmen in the country, and despite my frustration with my mother’s intrusion, I knew better than to disrespect him.

“Congratulations on a successful launch,” I said, extending my hand for a handshake. Mr. Zealot Joe accepted it firmly, a small but appreciative smile playing on his lips.

“It’s nice to have you here, Alexander,” he said, his voice welcoming. As we exchanged pleasantries, our attention was drawn to his daughter, Isabelle, who had now taken the stage to speak to the gathered guests. She stood tall and poised, ready to say a few words. “She told me you two are getting along well,” he added, nodding toward her.

I nodded back, my gaze briefly meeting Isabelle’s before returning to her father. “Yes, we are. It was about time.”

Mr. Zealot Joe nodded in agreement, tapping my shoulder lightly with a gesture of approval. “I’m having a birthday dinner for my wife next week. Be sure to show your face.”

“Isabelle already sent an invite, so I’ll be there for sure,” I assured him, and he seemed satisfied with my response.

With a final nod, he excused himself, turning to walk away. I stood there for a moment, processing the conversation when my mother’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

“I’m glad you took my advice,” she chimed in from beside me, and I hadn’t even realized she was still standing there.

“I’m glad Zealot is being friendly toward our family again,” she continued, her tone hinting at some sort of satisfaction, as if everything were falling into place the way she always expected it to.

“Don’t you have friends to greet?” I asked through clenched teeth, barely hiding my irritation. I wasn’t in the mood for her company, especially not now.

She didn’t seem fazed by my tone. “Are you doing it anytime soon?” she shot back.

I glanced at her briefly from the corner of my eyes, wondering what she was talking about. “Doing what anytime soon?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she said, clearing her throat, the cryptic nature of her words only making me more frustrated. “Don’t play dumb with me, son.”

“How about you don’t be so cryptic with me?” I snapped.

She sighed dramatically, a smirk tugging at her lips. “The engagement,” she deadpanned, looking me square in the eyes. “Are you proposing anytime soon? We need that union to happen soon.”

I let out a long, controlled breath before responding. “Yes, I will propose,” I said, stressing the words. “But it’s up to me to decide when.”

She groaned in frustration. “Xander, now is not the time to be stubborn. Having a union between the Jeos and our family is going to benefit both parties.”

I met her gaze, my expression flat. “I believe it will benefit them more than it benefits us,” I remarked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mum argued, her tone persistent. “At the end of the day, we’re still getting the benefits.”

Already feeling the headache creep in, I sighed and placed my half-empty glass on the tray of a passing server. “I believe I’m done here tonight,” I said, my voice curt as I turned away from her.

She frowned, clearly not pleased with my decision. “The party just got started,” she remarked, trying to draw me back into the fray.

I didn’t even look at her as I replied, my patience completely worn thin. “Well, it’s over for me.” Without another word, I turned on my heels and walked towards the entrance.

The moment I stepped out of the building, I took in a very deep breath, feeling the headache calm already.

It wasn’t until I got in the car did I remember Amara called me earlier. Since I was already heading home, I decided not to return the call and meet her in person instead.

However, the ride home took longer than expected because of an accident which caused a road block.