Chapter Two
Alexander
Her eyes scanned me like a scalpel, ready to cut away the layers I wasn't prepared to lose.
I watched her as I loosened my tie, noting how her delicate throat flexed as she swallowed hard. She was uncomfortable with me doing this, I couldn’t imagine how she’d feel later on when there was more intimacy than just me tugging my tie.
She was silent but resolute, and it dug at me more than her questions ever could. I advanced toward her, expecting with each step for her to back up, to bend to me. Instead, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin like she was ready for battle, and just stood there, unyielding.
"You signed away your right to know," I said, needing her to know I demand absolute dominance in this and all other moments. She didn’t seem to notice, and backed away until she pressed against the wall, and I followed, unable to ignore the way our closeness turned anger into something perilously close to desire.
Then, like a slap, my phone rang. After seeing his name, I ignored the call.
Claire stood before me, unwavering, her presence as infuriating as it was alluring. How had she slipped so seamlessly into this role, the perfect puzzle piece in my plan? She hadn't asked directly, but her every move seemed calculated to uncover the truth about my life in general.
Didn't she understand that curiosity was a dangerous thing? That the reasons for our arrangement were important to keep? I watched her, jaw clenched, refusing to give her anything.
"You can stop pretending, Alexander," she said finally, the softness of her voice contrasting the sharpness of her words. "I didn't ask anything. I don’t know and I don’t care. This is just a contract for-" She cut short, took a deep breath, and continued. “I’m just here for the money.”
I felt the impact of her honesty like a blow. Claire Dawn, sweet and selfless, refusing to be the liar, the pushover, the weakling I had counted on her to be. The more she showed her spirit, the more she threw me off balance.
"Good," I said, the single word a bullet I hoped would break her resolve.
She looked at me, a flicker of surprise on her face that I chose to read as defeat. I took a step toward her, and instead of retreating, she stood her ground, forcing me to confront my own unwillingness to yield. I couldn’t let her warmth heat up the coldness I clung to.
She finally moved, a slide to the side as if to walk around me. Tension grew, and so did anger, anticipation, something else. Something I wasn't ready to name.
Before I could decide what to do, my phone rang once more. The shrill sound made Claire flinch, her composure breaking. My brother's name glared at me from the screen. Damn him. I could ignore him again, but it might be more satisfying to answer.
I hesitated, watching Claire as she caught her breath, uncertainty visible in her pretty features. Annoyance and relief mixed in me as I answered. "Yes?"
"We're looking for you two," came his voice, overconfident with the self-importance of someone who felt entitled to whatever he wanted. Whatever he wanted. "Where are you?"
I looked at Claire, her eyes wide with something that felt like an accusation. "We're on our way," I said, ending the call before he could press further.
Claire broke the silence, her tone almost light but revealing a tension she couldn't hide. "Your brother has quite the knack for timing."
I offered a shrug, not caring one way or another. "Let's get back to the reception. People are going to talk, which is fine, but I imagine you’ll be embarrassed to be the topic of that conversation."
Her face went red, proving me right. She nodded in resignation. As we left the room, I found my thoughts tangled between irritation and an attraction I couldn't suppress, no matter how fiercely I tried.
The reception buzzed like a faulty wire, the noise and lights both too much and not enough. We returned as a unified front, a two-person battalion against the onlookers and their curiosity. Claire kept pace with me, her steps like war drumbeats.
The moment we rejoined the crowd, I felt familial obligations tugging at us. I wondered what Claire made of this chaos, her eyes wide like someone had handed her a script without a single stage direction. Then, like a curtain parting, my mother appeared—too soon, too friendly—and I felt the familiar weight of her expectations settle on my shoulders.
Claire tensed beside me, no doubt overwhelmed by the spectacle of the Reed family wedding. She probably thought this was some kind of elaborate circus, a show put on to keep up appearances. She wouldn't be far off. But if she believed she'd get off easy tonight, she was wrong.
"Alexander, darling!" My mother caught sight of us, and I braced myself for the inevitable fuss. She closed the distance with an energy that seemed at odds with her elegant composure, her eyes bright and appraising as they assessed Claire.
"And this must be Claire," she said, pulling her into an unexpected hug. "Welcome to the family."
I watched Claire's reaction closely, expecting to see her crack under the pressure. But she just smiled, genuinely, as if this chaos were something she could manage with a few kind words and that disarming warmth of hers. It annoyed me more than I cared to admit. Part of the plan or not, it grated that she fit in so seamlessly.
"It's wonderful to meet you," Claire said, her sincerity irritatingly real.
Mother beamed at her as if she'd already won some secret contest. I wondered how long Claire's innocence could last before my family sucked it dry. I kept my silence, inspecting my glass of champagne as if searching for micro cracks, watching as Claire began her delicate navigation in my world.
"She's lovely, Alexander," Mother whispered, her voice loud enough to register with half the guests. I felt a strange tightening in my chest, like admiration knotting up with resentment.
It didn't help that Claire was noticing everything. The way my tone shifted from clipped to merely authoritative around my family. How even in command, I showed them more deference than anyone else. I felt her eyes on me, noting the changes, and I despised how observant she was.
Before I could reclaim control of the situation, Allison appeared. Her timing, as always, was impeccable… and infuriating.
"Hello, Alexander," she said, voice smooth as poisoned honey. "Isn't this a surprise?"
"Allison," I said, flatly, though my pulse quickened.
"And this must be...?" Her gaze flicked over Claire, dismissive, her smile thin and sharp.
"His wife," Claire said, the confidence in her voice a pleasant shock. She extended a hand, and I saw Allison hesitate before taking it, her grip probably crushing.
"I'm… an old family friend," Allison said, with enough insinuation to fuel a year's worth of gossip.
"I thought you were James’s girlfriend." Claire’s tone made it clear that she was not going to let Allison manipulate her into thinking she’s not my brother’s girlfriend.
Allison’s gaze flickered to mine, and I saw her shock before she shut down. "I'm both, darling."
"I don’t know why you’d choose him over Alexander." Claire leaned into me, and my heart did a backflip that was neither expected nor acceptable. “I guess James must have some unseen appeal.” Her dismissive – though bright – tone had me curious if she was actually being kind or backhanded. The girl was a mystery.
I expected Claire to falter under Allison's glare, but she didn't. Instead, she challenged her in a way that had Allison off-balance, and clearly feeling an edge of competition she didn’t stand a chance of winning.
For a second, I almost admired Claire’s resilience. I should've known better than to underestimate the girl who'd turned my life upside down by accepting my insane – though calculated - proposal.
Then, like a viper in the grass, my brother slithered over, whispering something to Allison that wiped the false, self-satisfied smirk off her face. Her reaction was visceral—pale, stricken. She shot me a look filled with fury and disbelief before making a dramatic exit.
I watched them go, my satisfaction twisting into something darker. The fact that Claire hadn't even needed to try—my brother's involvement, Allison's devastation—left me raw and unsettled.
"What just happened?" Claire asked, her tone light but probing. She watched me with an expression that bordered on concern.
I emptied my glass, refusing to meet her eyes. The crystal sang a brittle note as I set it down too hard. "No questions."
She stared at me. "I can’t very well be the perfect wifey if I’m out of the loop, Alexander." The way she said my name sent a jolt below my belt, and I almost groaned at her effect on me.
Instead of responding, I simply stared her down until she squirmed under my gaze.
The reception continued, but the earlier buzz had faded into white noise. I was aware of Claire beside me, absorbing everything, processing the dynamics with more understanding than I'd credited her for. She acted the part of the concerned wife so convincingly it left me breathless.
As the night dragged on, I kept to my role, introducing Claire to extended family, flashing the smile I'd perfected over years of deflection. All the while, my thoughts spun like a rogue planet, caught in an orbit of old wounds and new complications.
I realized, with a jolt of discomfort, that I couldn't anticipate how this would unfold. No matter how much I planned, Claire seemed to have a way of doing the unexpected. She was supposed to be a pawn, a means to an end, yet she influenced the game more than I wanted to admit.
When she left my side the very few times she did, I watched her. Saw her trail a fingertip across a piano no one sat at as if she might sit down and play. Instead, her wistful expression was broken by someone stepping in to speak to her. And I just watched.
We left the reception with a tense silence between us, the echo of family madness trailing behind us like an unwanted guest. James and Allison had vanished, their absence a less of a relief and more a concern. I drove with clenched focus, Claire's presence more potent than I'd prepared for. Each stolen glance revealed a girl at ease with unpredictability, as if she thrived on it.
"Well," she said finally, breaking the stillness. "That was interesting."
I nodded, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing I had control over.
"I take it your family has... history?"
Her curiosity would've amused me if it hadn't felt so invasive. I considered ignoring her, but the night had been long, and I didn’t feel like keeping the walls up.
"You could say that."
Claire nodded, absorbing this without complaint. We lapsed back into silence, but it seemed loud. I couldn’t help but feel like my small admission had defused something.
Back at the penthouse, I found my mind already constructing the barriers I would need for the night ahead. Her calmness unsettled me; it saturated everything.
We entered the living room, its emptiness a stark contrast to the crowd we'd just left. Claire surveyed it like she was cataloging an exhibit, then turned to face me, patient and undemanding.
"So," she said, her tone deceptively casual. "What's next?"
"This way," I said, knowing the only certainty was the unknown we were both about to face.
My penthouse absorbed us like a waiting trap. I watched Claire navigate the unfamiliar space, each small glance at me a question she didn't voice.
She stopped in the center of my hallway, looking out of place and determined, like she might stake a claim or run for cover.
I offered the words as both explanation and challenge: "We're married now. Appearances matter." Her shock was almost beautiful in its sincerity, a wide-eyed refusal to accept the rules I’d set. But the contract was binding, and I wasn’t about to let her forget it.
I felt her hesitation like a force field we couldn't quite break through. Claire had walked through the wedding and reception with a grace that had unsettled me. Now, in my domain, the vulnerability crept back into her posture. It should've pleased me, this imbalance in my favor, but instead it crawled under my skin.
"Is this really necessary?" she asked, her voice catching on the space between each word as her gaze scanned my room and the bed she’d share with me.
I met her eyes, willing myself to stay as unyielding as I'd promised to be. "You agreed to convince everyone this is real."
Her look was incredulous, and for a moment, I thought she might laugh at the absurdity of it all. But the laughter never came, just a resigned nod that spoke volumes more than any protest.
"You could have warned me," she said, turning away with a tension in her shoulders I recognized as fear or defiance.
"It was in the contract," I said. She knew the terms. She'd signed on the dotted line.
Her steps were hesitant as we crossed into the master suite, and she fell slightly behind. She seemed smaller here, more fragile against the vastness of the room and the arrangement she couldn't escape.
"I didn't think you'd..." She trailed off, sounding almost strangled as she searched for the right accusation.
"Be serious about this?" I said, refusing to let her innocence soften my resolve. "Appearances matter, Claire. To everyone."
She seemed to absorb this, like a hit she should've seen coming but didn't. I watched her internally wrestle with the implications, the realization that the terms were not just ink on paper but walls she now lived within.
Finally, she retreated to the bathroom, and I watched her go. Despite her upbeat attitude, I could practically smell her discomfort, and the scent was… intoxicating.
The master suite felt larger than it had any right to be, and I couldn't escape the impression that I'd misjudged this negotiation. I removed my jacket, each motion more methodical than the last, a deliberate distraction from the woman in the other room.
What had I been thinking, involving her in this charade?
A billion-dollar gamble to gain the upper hand, yet here I was—uncertain. I don’t live in uncertainty. But Claire, so unpredictable and disarming, was a threat to everything I’d so carefully planned out. The ring felt more like captivity than I expected, and I messed with the gold band, wondering if I’d made a terrible mistake.
Then I remembered who I was. Alexander Reed didn’t make mistakes.
I heard the door open, and Claire stepped out. She wore modest pajamas that told me more about her than any words could. Her fresh, clean face was open, unguarded in a way I almost envied. I wondered if she knew how exposed she made me feel. She halted, the hollow at the base of her throat deepening as she took in the sight of me, shirtless and distracted.
"Um," she said, and it was more than I could handle—her awe, her innocence, the way she destabilized my carefully constructed world.
I glanced up, phone still in hand, pretending to be more involved in my work than her. "Problem?"
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, a gesture so innocent it struck me like a sledgehammer to the face. I ended the email abruptly, more drawn to the puzzle she presented than the business at hand.
"We're… sharing this room, then," she said, a statement filled with question marks. I knew she was trying to ask a different question, but I wasn’t about to make this easy for her. Not when she’d made everything a challenge for me.
I nodded.
"And you’re…" she gestured at me as if she’d never seen a shirtless man before, "like that."
I almost smiled.
She was clearly more innocent than I’d anticipated, and that was another monkey wrench in this plan of mine.
She slipped under the covers as far away from me as she could physically be and still be in the bed. Her movements were cautious as if she was testing the boundaries of both the bed and our unspoken agreement.
"Your reaction when I kissed you," I said, seeing things fall into place, all the odd moments of the night, her actions and reactions…
She froze, and in that stillness, I saw everything I needed to confirm my suspicions. Claire Dawn – no, Claire Reed - untouched and pure, with no defenses for the war she’d just signed up for.
"You've never been kissed like that before, have you?" I pushed, watching the color rise to her cheeks, a tidal wave of honesty she couldn't hide.
Her silence said more than words ever could. I felt an unexpected success at her silence, but it was tinged with something deeper, a curiosity that bordered on fascination. Claire was unlike anyone I'd let into my world, and the realization was as unsettling as it was intriguing.
"This arrangement might be more interesting than I anticipated," I said, each word a promise I hadn't meant to make. I turned off the light, leaving us in darkness.
"Sleep well, wife," I added, listening for the hitch in her breath, the confirmation that my words unsettled her as much as she was starting to unnerve me.
I lay there, more awake than I'd been in years, wondering if I'd made the biggest mistake of my life—or if Claire Reed was exactly what I needed her to be.