BOUND BY BLOOD AND BILLIONS

The Gala- Part 1

I stand there, preparing for the chaos that is about to unfold. I wait for him to shout, wanting him to break that cold facade and reveal to the press the kind of monster he truly is.

Then he surprises me. He smiles.

It's a chilling curve of his lips that doesn’t reach his cold gray eyes, closing the distance between us in two quick strides, his large hand locks onto my waist before I can step back. His grip is like iron, his fingers pressing into the soft curve of my hip through the thin silk with enough force to leave a mark. He pulls me against his side, the hard wall of his chest pressing against my shoulder and his coat completely concealing the torn fabric of my bodice from the left side.

"You think you’re clever," he murmurs, leaning so close that his lips brush my ear. To anyone watching from the end of the hall, it looks like a moment of deep intimacy. "But all you've done is make sure I won't let go of you for the rest of the night."

"Take your hands off me," I hiss, trying to pull my hip away.

His fingers tighten, drawing me even closer until the warmth of his body starts to overwhelm me. He shifts his position, positioning me so my torn thigh presses directly against his leg, entirely hidden from view.

"Smile for the cameras, darling," he says softly. "Or I’ll leak the details of your father’s embezzlement to the Times before they serve the appetizers."

The threat sends ice cold fear through my veins.

Before I can respond, the enormous double doors to the press hall swing open. The roar of the paparazzi hits us, and microphones are thrust into the air. Dozens of voices shout our names, all competing in a frenzied chaos.

"Alistair! Mr. Sterling! Over here!"

"Vivienne! Is it true that the families are merging?!"

"Vivienne, let us see the ring!"

Alistair doesn’t hesitate. The cold tyrant from the boardroom disappears, effortlessly replaced by the charming billionaire everyone loves.

He shifts his grip on my waist, sliding his hand up to rest flat against my back. The heat of his palm against my spine makes me gasp involuntarily. He uses my reaction to his advantage, leaning in to place a soft but lingering kiss against my temple.

"Stay close to me," he says loudly enough for the nearby microphones to catch, his tone dripping with false affection.

He steps into the spotlight of the flashing cameras, pulling me right alongside him. The warmth of his hand on my back feels like a branding iron. I am trapped beside him, utterly powerless. If I pull away, I reveal the torn dress and look ridiculous. But if I stay, I play directly into his plans.

"Mr. Sterling!" A reporter forces their way past security, recorder extended. "The engagement seems very sudden! How long have you and Miss Alexander been seeing each other?"

Alistair stops, perfectly angling us for the cameras. He looks down at me, his icy eyes practically shining under the camera flashes. His thumb moves slowly, making agonizing circles against the bare skin of my hip.

"Some things," Alistair says smoothly, his deep voice ringing out over the crowd, "are just too hard to walk away from."

"Was it love at first sight, Miss Alexander?" another reporter shouts, pushing a large microphone over the barricade. "How did you know he was the one?"

Alistair takes a breath, his carefully crafted PR smile ready to deliver another well-planned lie.

But I don’t let him. I lean slightly forward, cutting him off.

"Hmm, love at first sight?" I tilt my head, letting out a breathy laugh that sounds sickeningly sweet. "I’m not so sure about that."

I pause, letting the camera flashes reach a chaotic peak. I look up at Alistair, batting my eyelashes with exaggerated innocence.

"But I do know it was an instant... collision."

I feel his fingers turn to iron against my bare hip, tightening painfully. I smile wider, turning my focus back to the eager press, refusing to show any sign of discomfort.

"You know how it is," I purr, my voice dripping with devotion. "No matter what it is, my husband—" I pause abruptly, bringing my fingers to my lips in a theatrical gasp. "Oops, too early! My fiancé sets his sights on... he will do anything to get it, even if it ruins everything around him."

I let my hand fall, resting it flat against his chest, right over his heart.

"And I guess I just... couldn’t resist him."

The paparazzi eat it up. A wave of laughter and frenzied clicking fills the air. They think it’s playful banter from a passionate power couple.

But before Alistair can respond, a sharp voice cuts through the noise.

"Mr. Sterling! Miss Alexander!"

A reporter from a notorious gossip magazine pushes to the front of the barricade. She’s not interested in romance; she’s after a scandal.

"Speaking of destruction, Vivienne! What about the rumors?!" she yells over the crowd. "For years, your inner circle has said you hold Mr. Sterling responsible for the car crash that killed your brother! You’ve publicly called him a murderer! Did his wealth suddenly earn your forgiveness, or is this just a hostile takeover of your family's failing empire?!"

The rapid clicking of the cameras sounds like gunfire.

I freeze. Hearing Julian’s death used for a headline hits me like a punch to the gut. The air leaves my lungs, and for a terrifying moment, everything feels unsteady.

Alistair’s thumb stops its slow movement against my bare hip. His fingers dig into my skin—a silent, intense warning not to ruin this.

He immediately steps forward, trying to shield me from the cameras. "My fiancée and I will not be answering questions about past family tragedies tonight. Security—"

"No, Alistair. It’s fine," I interrupt, my voice clearly cutting through the noise.

I feel Alistair tense against me. I step slightly forward, forcing him to either let me speak or physically drag me away in front of dozens of cameras. If he wants a compliant corporate wife who avoids scandal, I’ll give him exactly what he wants. I’ll deliver a lie so convincing it chills him.

I let my smirk fade. My eyes soften, allowing a calculated look of vulnerability to wash over my face as I turn directly to the aggressive reporter.

"I was drowning in grief, Brenda," I say, my voice dropping to an emotional tremor that silences the angry crowd. "When you lose someone you love, it’s easy to find someone to blame. I blamed everything. I blamed the Sterling family. I was so incredibly angry."

I glance up at Alistair. His jaw is tight, his gray eyes unreadable, but I feel the tension radiating from him. I reach up, gently placing my palm against his cheek and leaning into him.

"But when my world fell apart, he was the only one who stayed," I whisper, ensuring my voice catches just right for the microphones. "He didn’t buy my forgiveness. He saved me from myself. You can’t keep fighting when you realize the person you’ve been pushing away is the one keeping you standing. I love him. I truly do."

I rise onto my tiptoes and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

For a brief moment, Alistair completely freezes. I feel his sharp intake of breath against my lips. He is taken by surprise. He probably expected me to scream, to resist, to sabotage him, but he never thought I could play his game better than he does.

When I pull back, the press erupts into chaos. It’s the ultimate romance headline: the tragic socialite healed by the love of the billionaire she once despised.

Alistair quickly regains his composure, sliding his arm tightly around my waist, his grip almost bruising, but his smile for the cameras is flawless.

He turns his cold gray eyes toward the reporter who asked the question, giving her a dead, unblinking stare that makes the temperature in the air drop.

"But let me be clear, Brenda. If you, or anyone else at your publication, ever uses my fiancée’s deceased brother as a cheap tactic to get a headline again, I will personally ensure your parent company is liquidated by Monday morning. Do we understand?"

The reporter visibly recoils, her face losing color.

Alistair doesn’t wait for her reply. With a final, painful squeeze on my hip, he expertly guides us away from the barricade. He pushes through the hotel doors, pulling me from the flashes into the dimly lit foyer.

As soon as the doors close behind us, shutting out the noise of the paparazzi, the charming billionaire disappears.

He slams me against the marble wall, his forearm pressing hard against my collarbone, trapping me. The air between us feels charged with dangerous energy.

"You are a very good liar, Vivienne," he says, his face just inches from mine, his eyes searching my expression for any sign of weakness. "Almost too good."

I lift my chin, refusing to cower under his imposing presence. "I told you, Sterling. You bought me. But don’t ever think you can control how I play the part."