Chapter 13
Alexander
T he sky is bruised and heavy, grey clouds hanging so low over the city that it feels like the storm might break at any second.
Despite the threat of rain—or maybe because of it—the gallery is alive.
Monday evening, and every inch of the stark, white-walled space pulses with bodies and voices, the clink of glasses, the hush of feet on polished floors.
I follow Lauren through the crowd, catching fragments of her commentary on a painting—some twisted figure with knotted limbs and wild eyes. The artist has talent, I’ll give them that, but the piece makes my skin crawl. Not something I’d want staring at me over morning coffee.
I glance at my sister, arching a brow. “Since when do you appreciate the macabre?” I ask, nodding toward the canvas. “It reminds me of you, actually.”
“Hilarious.” Lauren’s smile is sharp, and it puts me on guard instantly. I know a threat when I see one.
“Why are we really here?” I press.
There’s a glint in Lauren’s eyes, something sly and dangerous. “Your future bride is here and wants to meet us,” she repeats, unbothered.
For a moment, I can only stare. “What?”
“Well, not your actual bride.” Lauren rolls her eyes. “The bride’s sister. She wanted to meet us.”
My muscles tense. “What do you mean, ‘meet us’? You lied to me.”
“Oh, please. I improvised.” Her fingers dig into my arm as she steers me forward, her smile fixed in place while her eyes hunt through the crowd. In that moment, she looks unsettlingly like our father. “She’s over there.” Lauren tilts her chin.
I scan the room, searching for a flash of emerald, and then I see her. Blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. My heart stutters when she turns.
Olivia.
Jesus.
I swallow. “Is she the one I’m supposed to marry, or is it her sister?” I’m not sure which answer I want.
“Sister.”
Every instinct in me tells me to turn around and walk away, but Lauren’s grip on my arm is like a vice.
I force myself to move forward.
Olivia looks up, and her bright hazel eyes meet mine. The noisy gallery fades into the background. For a second, it’s just the two of us, suspended in the moment.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was kissing those sweet lips and listening to her moan my name.
Olivia’s dress is green, deep and vivid, hugging her curves, a tantalizing strip of cleavage catching my eye.
She’s a vision, a goddess, and soon to be my sister-in-law.
I can’t look at her and not think of the hours we spent tangled in each other’s arms.
“Cassandra,” Lauren says, and I realize she’s speaking to the woman standing just behind Olivia. “This is my brother, Alexander. Do you remember him?”
Cassandra steps forward, hand outstretched, her eyes flitting between Olivia and me with a knowing glint. She’s dressed in a sleek black pantsuit, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun, emphasizing her sharp features and piercing gaze.
“We met on Friday,” she says. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”
I take her hand, but my attention is still on Olivia, who’s tapping her foot, lips parted like she’s about to speak.
After a beat, Cassandra glances at Olivia. “You must remember Olivia.”
My gaze sharpens. “Yes. I do.”
Lauren steps in, her voice light. “Cassandra, would you mind showing me around? Alex’s apartment could use a few finishing touches, and I’d rather have your company than his.”
Cassandra nods, already turning away. “I’m sure Alex and Olivia have plenty to catch up on.”
Lauren releases me, her gaze meeting Olivia’s for a heartbeat. Something silent passes between them.
“I’ll be back in a few.” Lauren shrugs off her jacket and disappears into the crowd with Cassandra, leaving me and Olivia standing alone in the storm-lit gallery.
Olivia’s eyes track them until they vanish, and then her shoulders sag, her mouth turning down. The silence between us is thick, suffocating, even with the bass of the music pounding and people pressed close on every side.
“Do you like the exposition?” Olivia’s voice finally breaks the heavy silence, brittle as glass.
“You lied to me,” I say. “Why did you lie to me?”
“I didn’t lie to you. How could I have known? Why would I do something like that to my sister?” She takes a step closer, her green dress whispering against her legs, the faintest trace of perfume drifting between us: something floral and delicate, like magnolias blooming in the summer heat.
I clench my jaw, trying to hold onto the anger simmering beneath the surface, but it’s slipping away, replaced by something far more dangerous. Desire. Confusion. Frustration. It all blurs together, making it hard to think straight. “When did you find out?”
Olivia’s expression softens. “Today. When Cassandra mentioned it. I had no idea you were Alexander Hawthorne.”
“Does it change things?” My voice is rough. “We’re here now. What are we going to do about this?” I gesture between us.
“About what?”
If she wants to pretend nothing happened, I can do the same.
I shrug, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Never mind. Seems like we’re done here. Tell my sister I’m waiting in the car, Miss Jackson—or should I say, my dear sister-in-law?”
Her eyes go wide. Hurt and surprise flash across those delicate features. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out as I turn on my heel and walk away, leaving her standing in the vibrant chaos of the gallery.
The crowd presses in, but I barely notice. My head is a storm: the memory of her mouth on mine, the heat of her skin, the ache of wanting something I can’t have. It all feels like a cruel joke.
Outside, the rain has stopped. The city is slick and glistening, neon reflections bleeding across the pavement.
My chest is tight. I lean against the gallery wall, eyes squeezed shut.
Olivia’s face flashes behind my eyelids: wide hazel eyes, parted lips as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t.
The hurt in her expression when I walked away.
I exhale hard, push off the wall, and head for the car.
My fists are still clenched in my pockets, jaw locked.
I shouldn’t have left her like that. Shouldn’t have let her see how much she’s getting to me.
But damn it, how am I supposed to act like nothing happened?
Like we didn’t spend hours tangled together, her body pressed to mine, her breath hot against my skin?
It’s been a long time since a woman got under my skin like this. Less than a week, and Olivia already owns real estate in my head.
“Alex!” Olivia’s voice rings out, clear and strong. I turn around.
Olivia stands several feet away, the wind ruffling her hair, her eyes trained on me, pure determination written on her face.
“What?”
“Can we talk for a minute?”
“We just did.” I arch a brow, letting the sarcasm bite. “And you didn’t have anything to say.”
“Don’t be difficult,” she says, stepping closer. There’s steel in her spine now, a quiet confidence. “I need your help. My sister doesn’t know about the deal between your father and my uncle. Can you help me keep her out of it?”
“And how do you propose we do that?”
She shivers in her dress, arms folded tight, hands trembling. I sigh and don’t even try to control my instinctual reaction. I quickly take off my jacket and give it to her.
The wind gusts again, and Olivia instinctively grabs the jacket, her eyes on me.
“I want you to marry me,” she says. No hesitation. No shame.
“Excuse me?” I choke on the words. My mind scrambles to catch up.
“I know it’s crazy,” Olivia says, voice shaking just a little. “But I must protect my sister and salvage what’s left of her future.”
Part of me admires her cunning, her willingness to sacrifice herself. Another part is furious that she’d use me like this, propose a sham marriage after everything we’ve shared. But mostly, I’m confused as hell.
Was she plotting this from the start?
“You want to marry me,” I say, slow and flat, “to save your sister.”
Olivia nods. “It’s the only way I can keep her safe from all of this.”
I run a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. “Christ, Olivia. Do you have any idea what you’re asking? Was last weekend all part of this? Was any of it real?”
“None of this was part of the plan. Last weekend wasn’t a strategy. I didn’t even know your last name.”
Against my better judgment, I believe her.
“You confuse me,” I admit, stepping in until there’s barely any space between us. “One minute you’re hot, the next you’re cold. First, you pretend nothing happened, then you’re asking me to marry you. What do you want, Olivia?”
She runs her fingers along my jacket sleeve, eyes clear and earnest. “I need you to marry me for one year. Think about it. If we’re married, our families can’t force either of us into their plans.
We’d be in control. After a year, you’re free.
No obligations. No games. We walk away, both of our problems solved. ”
For the first time tonight, I really look at her. Searching for a lie, a trap, anything but the raw conviction in her hazel eyes. All I see is hope. And a little bit of desperation.
“One year,” she whispers. “No strings attached. It’s a business arrangement with a touch of madness.”
Now I know how the devil sounds when he offers you a deal for your soul.
“Madness,” I echo. I want to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all almost as much as I want to grab her and kiss her senseless, consequences be damned. “That’s one word for it.”