Alexander's POV
Her brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she were trying to unravel the meaning behind my actions. For a moment, I thought she might push me away, accuse me of being something other than what I claimed to be.
But she didn't.
Instead, she looked away, her gaze drifting to the darkened garden, ignoring my question. "Then why are we here?"
I could have given her the answer she expected—family duty, alliances, power.
Instead, I stayed silent, the truth too complicated to put into words.
She didn't wait for my response. She moved from me and began walking again, her steps slower this time, less purposeful.
I followed, my thoughts racing.
This wasn't supposed to matter. She wasn't supposed to matter. This entire arrangement was nothing more than another game of power my family played, and I was merely a placeholder, pretending to be Leonardo to keep the peace.
But watching her, I felt something shift.
Her beauty was… unexpected. Not the cold, polished kind I had seen so often in the circles my family moved in. There was a warmth to her, even in her anger—a spark that made her seem more alive than anyone I'd met in years.
And it wasn't just her beauty. It was the way she carried herself, the way her defiance shone through even when the weight of everything pressed down on her. She didn't want to be here any more than I did, but she faced it with a strength that left me unsettled.
When we reached the edge of the garden, she stopped again, her shoulders stiff as she turned to face me.
"You're good at this," she said suddenly, her voice sharp.
I frowned. "At what?"
"Pretending," she said, her lips curling into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You act like none of this bothers you. Like you're fine with it. But you're not, are you?"
Her words caught me off guard.
I didn't answer right away, and she took a step closer, her gaze steady. "Why do you act like you don't care?"
Because I'm not who you think I am, I wanted to say. Because this isn't my life, and it's easier to pretend than to face what it could mean.
But I couldn't tell her that.
"Because caring doesn't change anything," I said finally, my voice quieter than I intended.
Her expression softened, just for a moment. Then she shook her head, stepping back. "You're right. It doesn't."
The distance between us felt wider now, though we stood only a few feet apart. She turned away, her dark hair catching the moonlight as it shifted over her shoulder.
"Let's go back," she said, her voice flat.
I wanted to stop her. To say something that would make her look at me again, not as an obligation or an enemy, but as someone who understood her in ways no one else seemed to. But the words wouldn't come.
Instead, I followed her back to the house, my thoughts tangled in ways they hadn't been before.
This was supposed to be simple. A role to play, a mask to wear until the alliance was solidified, and I could step back into my own life. But Maria…
Maria wasn't part of the plan.
And the more I watched her, the more I realized she was a complication I couldn't ignore.
The night air felt colder when I stepped out of the Greystone estate. The tension that had coiled itself around my chest during the evening hadn't eased—it lingered, tightening with every step toward the waiting car.
The driver didn't speak as he opened the door, and I slid into the backseat, leaning my head against the cool glass.
The engine hummed to life, but the house loomed behind me, its grand silhouette etched against the dark sky.
Maria's face lingered in my thoughts.
She wasn't what I'd expected. I'd thought she'd be just another player in this game, another pawn like me. But there was something about her—something real, something raw.
The way she stood in the garden, her shoulders squared despite the weight of the evening pressing down on her, the way her eyes burned with defiance even as she asked questions I couldn't answer… It stayed with me.
And I hated that it did.
By the time I returned to the estate, the lights in the east wing were dim, a sign that most of the household had retired for the night. But I knew Leonardo would be awake. He always was when I returned from one of these meetings, waiting to pick apart every detail with that sharp, calculating mind of his.
I found him in the study, sitting in the high-backed chair by the fire. A glass of brandy rested on the table beside him, untouched. His dark blond hair was pushed back, his features sharper in the flickering light. He looked up as I entered, his blue eyes narrowing slightly.
"Well?" he asked, his voice low but edged with curiosity.
I shrugged out of my jacket, tossing it onto the arm of a nearby chair before taking a seat across from him. "It's done."
His brow lifted. "That's all you have to say? It's done?"
I leaned forward, running a hand through my hair. "They believe it. The Greystones think I'm you, and the marriage is moving forward. Victor and Ophelia couldn't stop congratulating themselves over their 'brilliant alliance.'"
Leonardo smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Of course they did. They're opportunists, both of them. And the girl?"
The mention of Maria tightened something in my chest. I hesitated, but only for a second. "She's not what I expected."
His smirk faded. "Explain."
"She's not like them," I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "She hates this arrangement as much as you do."
Leonardo's eyes narrowed, his head tilting slightly. "You sound like you pity her."
I shook my head, straightening in my seat. "It's not pity. She's…" I trailed off, searching for the right words. "Different."
He studied me in silence for a moment, his gaze sharp and assessing. "You've gotten too close."
I scoffed, leaning back in my chair. "Don't start, Leo. I'm playing my part, nothing more."
"Are you?" he asked, his tone quieter now, more dangerous. "Because if you're losing focus, Alexander, this entire charade falls apart."
I met his gaze, the tension between us thickening. "I'm not losing focus," I said evenly. "The date is set. Two months from now, I'll marry Maria, as you."
Leonardo's expression didn't shift, but I could feel the weight of his scrutiny. "Good," he said finally, his voice clipped. "But don't forget why we're doing this. It's not for her, or for you. It's for the family."
I nodded, though the words sat uneasily in my chest.
The fire crackled between us, the only sound in the heavy silence that followed. Leonardo's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he stood, picking up his untouched glass of brandy.
"Don't let this get messy, Alexander," he said as he walked toward the door. "We can't afford it."
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with the fire and my thoughts.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, my hands clasped tightly together.
Two months.
That was all the time I had to keep up this lie. To play Leonardo's part, to marry Maria, to secure this damned alliance.
But as the memory of her in the garden surfaced again—her dark eyes filled with fire, her voice laced with anger and hurt—I felt the edges of the plan begin to blur.
This wasn't supposed to matter. She wasn't supposed to matter.
And yet, she did.