Chapter 1
1164 Words
Alexander POV
“I know you don’t want this,” my uncle says calmly, pouring himself a glass of whiskey as if we’re discussing a business merger instead of my future. “But think carefully, Alex. Nicko is our ally. Our friend. He’s asking for something that benefits all of us.”
I lean back in my chair, jaw tight. “Explain to me how marrying his sister is a benefit.”
Uncle Vlant turns, fixing me with a sharp look. He’s been my advisor since my father died—calculating, ruthless, never emotional.
“He wants a stronger alliance. Together, we can end Max Richter once and for all. And,” he adds pointedly, “you’ll silence Sergei.”
That name alone makes my blood boil.
“You need a queen,” Vlant continues. “And you need an heir. Soon. Nicko’s sister is the perfect solution.”
A solution.
That’s what women have become in my world.
Thirty minutes ago, Nicko called from Greece. His voice was tight, controlled—but I heard the fear beneath it. Max from Berlin has set his sights on Angelica. And when a man like Max wants something, he doesn’t stop.
Nicko wants her protected.
I want Max destroyed.
And I need legitimacy—something Sergei is desperate to rip away from me.
I exhale slowly and look at my uncle. “Call the lawyers. Prepare the contracts.”
His lips curve into a satisfied smile. “You’ll accept?”
“Yes,” I say flatly. “I’ll marry her.”
Relief floods his expression.
“I’ll deal with Max,” I add coldly. “And Sergei too. Permanently.”
Vlant nods. “I knew you’d see reason.”
Reason. Not desire. Never that.
I pick up my phone and dial Nicko.
“Alex?” he answers immediately.
“You have my answer.”
Silence. Then—“You’ll do it?”
“Yes. I’ll marry your sister.”
A breath I didn’t know he was holding escapes him. “Thank you. Max has been pressuring me harder every day. With you, she’ll be untouchable.”
“We both gain from this marriage,” I reply. “Don’t misunderstand that.”
“I know. I’ll tell Angelica tonight. She doesn’t have many options—she’ll say yes.”
That statement rubs me the wrong way, though I don’t comment.
“In five days, I’ll be in Athens,” I say. “We’ll do the wedding there. After that, she comes to Moscow with me.”
“Agreed.”
Before hanging up, I pause. “How old is she now?”
“She just turned twenty.”
Young—but not a child. Still, something tightens in my chest.
“She won’t be trouble,” Nicko adds quickly. “She’s sweet. Patient. Honestly… she’s not made for our world. That’s why I’m scared for her.”
Not made for our world.
I remember her vaguely from Nicko’s wedding two years ago—quiet, soft-eyed, always surrounded by guards. A girl hiding behind politeness.
“She dances,” Nicko adds, almost as an afterthought.
“Dances?”
“Yes. It’s her escape. If you give her a dance room, she’ll be happy. Some days she dances for hours.”
I picture it—music, movement, grace in a world built on violence.
“Then she’ll have a dance room,” I say. “Anything else?”
Nicko laughs lightly. “Make her happy, Alex. You know the saying—happy wife, happy husband.”
I don’t laugh back.
We hang up, and I stare at the dark glass of my office window, my reflection staring back—cold, controlled, scarred.
“Prepare the jet,” I tell my uncle. “And have a dance studio built on the first floor.”
He raises a brow. “Cameras?”
“Everywhere.”
“Understood.”
When he leaves, the silence presses in.
I didn’t plan to marry again.
After Anna, I swore I wouldn’t.
Four years ago, I loved a woman with everything I had. I trusted her. Planned a future with her. And she repaid me by sleeping with one of my most trusted men—behind my back—for six months.
Six months of lies.
That kind of betrayal doesn’t heal. It rots.
Since then, women have been nothing but distractions—bodies without names, nights without meaning. I take what I need, and they leave. No attachments. No weakness.
Angelica will be no different.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
Later that night, I’m on my way to one of my clubs. Ivan drives, briefing me on shipments and security issues.
When he finishes, he glances at me. “So. You’re really getting married.”
“Yes.”
“To Nicko’s sister?”
“Yes.”
He smirks. “Good alliance.”
“That’s all it is.”
Ivan snorts. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Hours later, I’m in my private office at the club, nursing a drink when my phone buzzes.
Nicko.
I open the message—and everything stops.
A photo fills the screen.
Angelica.
She’s no longer the girl I remember.
Long dark hair cascades over bare shoulders. Her body is graceful, feminine—curves shaped by discipline and movement. Green eyes stare into the camera, sharp and soft at the same time. Like a cat pretending to be tame.
My pulse spikes.
Fuck.
“She’s different than the last time you saw her,” Nicko writes. “I thought you should see her now. I hope you like her.”
Like her?
I stare at the screen longer than I should.
“Yes,” I type back. “She’s different.”
And she’s dangerous—in a way she probably doesn’t even realize.
When I stand to leave, Ivan notices my expression.
“You look… distracted.”
I hand him my phone.
“That’s Angelica.”
He whistles low. “She looks like an angel.”
I take the phone back. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You like her.”
“It’s an arranged marriage,” I snap. “She’s attractive. That makes things easier.”
“Sure it does,” he says, amused. “Just remember—not all women are like Anna.”
I don’t answer.
Back at the mansion, Ivan stops outside my door. “She’s already in your head, isn’t she?”
I turn slowly. “Whatever you’re thinking—forget it. I won’t fall in love again.”
He studies me for a long moment. “She’s not your past, Alex.”
I close the door without replying.
Alone in the darkness, I sit on the edge of my bed, phone still in my hand.
Those eyes.
That body.
The way she looks like she belongs anywhere but my world.
I said I would never love again.
But for the first time in four years, I’m lying to myself.
And it terrifies me.
- Writer
