His words were clipped and precise, like a legal document given voice. Olivia nodded again, feeling like a pawn moving across a chessboard, each square taking her further from the life she once knew.
After leaving Alexander's office, Olivia returned to her tiny, quiet apartment, the weight of her decision pressing down on her like a physical force. She curled up on the couch, hugging a pillow close to her chest as she tried to calm her racing thoughts. She kept replaying the day in her mind—Alexander's piercing gaze, the authoritative tone in his voice, the way he barely acknowledged the gravity of what he was asking of her.
The worst part was that a small, shameful part of her was drawn to him. There was an allure in his presence, a strange power that captivated her despite her better judgment. She couldn't deny that she'd felt something, even if it was only a flicker of curiosity, beneath the layers of fear and apprehension.
Her phone buzzed, jolting her from her thoughts. It was a text from Megan.
Megan: "How are you holding up? Want me to come over?"
Olivia typed a quick reply, her fingers shaking slightly.
Olivia: "I could use some company, actually. This is... a lot."
Thirteen minutes later, Megan arrived, her face lined with concern. She pulled Olivia into a hug, letting her friend collapse against her shoulder.
"I don't know what I'm doing, Megan," Olivia whispered, her voice choked. "I just agreed to marry a man I hardly know. I'm doing this for my family, for the company, but... it feels wrong."
Megan pulled back, searching Olivia's face. "Are you sure you want to go through with this? I mean, there's no shame in backing out if it doesn't feel right. I don't want you to lose yourself in this... this arrangement."
Olivia sighed, sitting down and resting her head in her hands. "I don't have a choice. If I don't do this, the company is gone. My father's legacy will disappear, and I... I can't let that happen."
Megan nodded slowly, her expression somber. "Just promise me you'll be careful. Men like Alexander Cross... they're used to getting what they want, no matter the cost. Don't let him break you, Liv."
Olivia looked up at her friend, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "I'll try. But I don't know how to protect myself from someone like him."
The next week passed in a blur of meetings, contracts, and carefully crafted plans. Olivia found herself trapped in a whirlwind of legal jargon, signatures, and meticulously planned events. Each document she signed felt like another brick in the wall of her new life, one that kept her bound to Alexander with no way out.
Finally, the day came when they signed the marriage contract. She'd been given a detailed list of rules and expectations, each one more restrictive than the last. Alexander's lawyers had insisted on absolute secrecy, minimal public affection, and clearly outlined boundaries for their "relationship."
She sat across from Alexander in a private conference room, feeling more like a prisoner than a bride-to-be. He watched her intently, his gaze unwavering as she signed her name on the dotted line. When she finished, she looked up at him, a strange, hollow feeling settling in her chest.
"Is that it?" She asked softly, her voice barely audible.
Alexander nodded, his expression impassive. "Yes. From this moment forward, you are my wife. We have an appearance to maintain, and I expect you to fulfill your role accordingly."
The coldness in his tone sent a shiver down her spine, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. "Understood," she replied, her voice steady, though her heart felt like it was breaking.
For the next few days, Olivia and Alexander kept their interactions to the bare minimum. They attended a few public events together, where she was introduced as "Mrs. Cross," and Alexander played the part of the charming, if slightly aloof, husband. The cameras flashed, capturing their every move, but behind the scenes their exchanges were tense and guarded.
One evening, they attended a high-profile charity gala, a gathering of the city's elite. Olivia felt out of place among the glittering gowns and sharp suits, her nerves fraying as she struggled to play her role convincingly. She felt Alexander's presence beside her, his hand resting lightly on her lower back, guiding her through the crowd with a practiced ease.
At one point, they encountered a particularly rude guest, a man who sneered as he looked Olivia up and down, his gaze filled with disdain.
"Cross, I didn't know you'd settled for charity cases now," the man sneered, his voice laced with mockery. "Is she here to clean up the mess after the party?"
Olivia's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger, her fists clenching at her sides. But before she could respond, Alexander stepped forward, his expression icy as he looked the man up and down.
"I suggest you watch your words," Alexander said in a dangerously low voice, his hand tightening slightly on Olivia's back. "Unless you'd like to find yourself blacklisted from every event in this city."
The man's smug expression faltered, and he muttered a quick apology before disappearing into the crowd. Olivia felt a strange mixture of relief and gratitude wash over her, and when she looked up at Alexander, she saw a softness in his gaze that she hadn't expected.
"Thank you," she murmured, her voice filled with sincerity.
He didn't respond, but there was something different in the way he looked at her—a fleeting warmth that hinted at something deeper. For a moment, she felt a connection between them, a fragile, unspoken bond that defied the cold terms of their arrangement.