Chapter 6 The Cost of the Crown
Alexander’s POV
“Is this really the only way, James? Because it feels like a colossal waste of my goddamn time.”
I leaned back in the Italian leather chair of my private study, the amber liquid in my glass catching the dim, moody light of the room. The skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling windows glittered like a field of diamonds, but my attention stayed on the man sitting across from me.
James Harper.
My lead counsel. My cleaner. The only man in this city who didn’t look at me like I was a loaded weapon waiting to go off.
He sighed and closed the leather folder resting on his lap.
“The board is restless, Alexander,” he said calmly. “More than restless—they’re nervous. These rumors about your… extracurricular connections are starting to bleed into the financial press. They’re using words like unorthodox. Dangerous.”
I swirled the whiskey slowly.
“If you want to stop them from staging a coup at the next quarterly meeting,” James continued, “you need to neutralize the narrative.”
“The narrative,” I said coldly, “should be that I’m the most successful CEO this company has seen in a decade.”
Ice shifted in my glass as my grip tightened.
“I took my father’s foundation and built a goddamn empire on top of it. They should be kissing my ring, not whispering behind my back like cowards in five-thousand-dollar suits.”
“They’re whispering about the Mafia, Alex.”
James’ voice dropped slightly.
“They think Kingsley Corporation is a front. They’re worried the blood on your hands is going to stain their dividends.”
A familiar itch crawled across my knuckles—the kind that usually ended with someone bleeding.
“Can’t I just eliminate the board members questioning my leadership?” I asked casually.
James didn’t even blink.
“It would be cleaner,” I continued. “A few unfortunate accidents. A couple well-timed heart attacks. The rest of them would fall in line like the lapdogs they are.”
James sighed.
“As much as I’d love the billable hours defending that strategy, you can’t start executing the shareholders of a Fortune 500 company.”
I paced across the room slowly.
“If anything happens to them now,” he continued, “it won’t just confirm the rumors—it’ll be a neon sign pointing straight at you. People will start digging. They’ll connect the dots. And if the world finds out you’re running the most powerful criminal syndicate in this city…”
He gave me a pointed look.
“The SEC will be the least of your problems.”
“I don’t give a damn what they think,” I snapped.
I turned, pacing like a caged predator across the Persian rug.
“It’s my company. My name is carved into the granite of that building. I’d rather burn the whole thing down than dance for a bunch of suits who couldn’t carry half the weight I deal with every day.”
“It’s not just about the company,” James said firmly.
He stood now, meeting my gaze across the massive mahogany desk.
“Exposing yourself as the head of the syndicate destabilizes everything. The stock collapses. Your shipping lanes get seized. Your offshore accounts start disappearing.”
He paused.
“But more importantly?”
His voice sharpened.
“It destroys your mother’s legacy.”
I stopped walking.
The room went still.
Mentioning her was like dumping ice water over a burning fire.
“She spent her life helping people,” James continued quietly. “The hospitals. The charities. The foundations. The city practically worships her.”
He looked at me carefully.
“If the board starts digging into your legitimacy, they won’t stop with you. They’ll drag her name into it too.”
I clenched my fists.
“They’ll say her charity was a front,” he continued. “A place to wash blood money.”
My reflection stared back at me from the window.
The perfect corporate king.
Sharp suit. Billion-dollar empire.
And behind it—
The predator.
“Don’t let your pride destroy the only clean thing your family ever produced,” James said.
The city stretched below me, glowing and alive.
I owned this city.
In two very different ways.
And James was right.
If the board went digging, Ava’s life—my twin sister’s life—would get dragged into the mess too.
And that wasn’t going to happen.
“Fine,” I muttered.
The word tasted like poison.
I turned away from the window, the fire in my chest cooling into something colder. Sharper.
Calculated.
“The stable family man,” I said dryly. “The board’s favorite fantasy.”
James relaxed slightly.
“Exactly.”
He opened the folder again.
“So we need a candidate. Someone respectable. A good family. A senator’s daughter maybe. Someone who understands discretion.”
“I’ve already chosen someone,” I cut in, a slow, dangerous smile pulling at the corner of my mouth as a certain image flashed through my mind—a stubborn barista with untamed eyes and a tongue sharp enough to start a war.
“And she’s definitely not quiet,” I added. “She’s fire. The kind that doesn’t flicker politely in the background. She has a mouth on her that could start a riot and eyes that look like they want to burn me alive every time I so much as breathe near her.”
James’s eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline.
“Already?” James said, blinking. “Who? One of the Vandermeres? A DuPont?”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“And what exactly do you mean by mouth? Alex, the whole point of this exercise is to put out fires—not drag a flamethrower into your penthouse. Who is she?”
“A nobody,” I said simply.
The memory of her glare—sharp, defiant, completely unimpressed by my existence—sent a quiet pulse of dark amusement through my chest.
“A barista who thinks she can tell me no and actually mean it.”
James stared at me like I had finally snapped.
“She’s perfect,” I continued calmly. “No one will suspect a man with a girl like that is hiding a criminal empire. She’s too… alive. Too real to look like part of a calculated arrangement.”
I lifted my glass, watching the amber liquid catch the dim light.
“People will see the way I look at her,” I said quietly, “and they’ll assume I’ve finally been tamed.”
James let out a disbelieving laugh.
“A barista?” he said. “Alex, the board wants the image of a respectable family man. They want a polished wife. Someone from a powerful family—not a girl who smells like espresso and attitude. A coffee shop girl?”
“Don’t worry, James,” I said evenly. “I have a plan for her.”
He crossed his arms.
“What kind of plan? Because a domesticated Alexander Kingsley is not something I can easily picture… let alone defend in a boardroom.”
A rough laugh escaped me.
“Don’t be ridiculous. That will never happen.”
I turned slightly, staring out at the skyline.
“I’m simply solving two problems at once.”
James’s gaze sharpened.
“I need an heir,” I said bluntly. “Someone to carry the Kingsley bloodline. That way I don’t have to worry about succession in my… other business.”
Understanding slowly dawned on his face.
“I’ll get a child out of the marriage,” I continued calmly. “Once she’s served her purpose, I’ll pay her off and send her away. She gets a lifetime of comfort. I get my legacy secured—without the exhausting complication of a wife who believes she’s my equal.”
I turned back toward the window.
My reflection stared back at me—cold, controlled, untouchable.
“Oh, Isabella,” I murmured softly to the glass, a dangerous thrill stirring in my chest as the memory of her fierce eyes surfaced again.
“You made a fatal mistake letting a monster notice you.”
A slow smile crept across my face.
“And now that monster intends to use you.”
Whether she liked it or not.
“She doesn’t know it yet,” I added quietly, “but she’s just become the most important piece on my board.”
The smile deepened.
She was the one variable I hadn’t planned for.
The wild card in a game I had already won.
And now that I had chosen her, she would play her part—
Even if I had to drag her into my world kicking and screaming.
“Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, little cat,” I whispered.
“Savor that fire.”
Because I had never made a bad investment in my life.
“And I fully intend to break you,” I murmured softly, “until you become exactly what I need you to be.”