The honeymoon suite was a battlefield.
The air crackled with tension as Elena stood in front of the massive king-sized bed, arms crossed, eyes locked onto Alexander.
Their contract had been signed. Their wedding had been announced. And now, here they were—alone in his penthouse, expected to play the role of husband and wife.
Except neither of them was willing to submit.
Alexander leaned against the doorframe, his black dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, his sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms and the hint of veins. His presence was commanding, suffocating.
"You're tense, darling," he observed, a smirk playing at his lips.
Elena let out a breath, keeping her posture relaxed. "I don't share a bed with strangers."
His brow arched. "Strangers? We're married, Mrs. Reid."
"On paper."
"That's all that matters."
He stepped closer, his scent—a mix of expensive cologne and raw masculinity—invading her senses. She held her ground, refusing to back down, even as the space between them disappeared.
"You can have the bed," she said coolly. "I'll take the couch."
Alexander's smirk deepened. "You think I'll let my wife sleep on a couch?"
"It's a contract, not a real marriage. There's no need to act like a gentleman now."
He let out a deep, amused chuckle, his eyes flashing with something darker. Dangerous. "Who said I was a gentleman?"
Before she could react, he reached out—fast.
His fingers grazed her wrist, just enough to make her pulse jump, but not enough to trap her. A warning. A tease.
Her breath hitched. She hated how her body reacted to him.
Elena forced herself to stay calm. "If you're trying to intimidate me, Alexander, you'll have to do better than that."
His gaze flickered with approval. "Oh, I like you."
He dropped her wrist, stepping back, giving her space—but not completely.
"Fine. You take the bed. I'll take the couch," he finally said.
Elena blinked, not expecting him to back down so easily.
But before she could feel relief, he added, "But next time, we won't be discussing it. You're my wife, and you will sleep in my bed."
Her stomach twisted at the implication.
She narrowed her eyes. "Don't hold your breath, Mr. Reid."
His smirk was slow, predatory. "Oh, I won't have to, darling. You'll come to me willingly."
Her heart pounded as she turned sharply on her heel, heading toward the bed. She could feel his eyes on her, watching, waiting.
She wouldn't break.
She wouldn't.
The First Morning – A Battle of Wills
Elena woke up to the scent of fresh coffee and something… warm.
Her body tensed as she realized she wasn't alone.
Alexander was sitting on the couch, shirtless, a steaming mug in his hand. His dark, tousled hair and the morning light hitting his sharp, sculpted features made him look too good. Too dangerous.
She hated that she noticed.
"You're staring," he murmured without looking up.
Elena scoffed, pushing the blanket aside. "You wish."
He smirked, finally meeting her gaze. "You talk big for someone who spent all night stealing my pillows."
She flushed. "I did not."
"You did."
She refused to argue, standing up instead. "What time is it?"
"Six. We have a press conference in three hours."
Elena blinked. "Press conference?"
Alexander stood, stretching slightly, his muscles flexing in a way that should be illegal. "We need to sell this marriage, remember?"
Her heart sank.
Of course. The world was watching.
They needed to be perfect.
"Then I'll get ready," she said, heading toward the bathroom.
But just as she reached for the door, Alexander's voice stopped her.
"Elena."
She turned, only to find him right behind her.
Her breath hitched.
His gaze pierced through her, dark and unreadable. Then, in a voice softer, more dangerous than before, he said:
"Don't fight me. You won't win."
A shiver ran down her spine, but she masked it with a smirk. "We'll see about that, Mr. Reid."
And with that, she stepped inside, locking the door behind her.
Because she wasn't sure who she was trying to protect—herself… or him.
The Press Conference – The First Public Test
Elena adjusted the diamond bracelet on her wrist, taking a deep breath. She sat beside Alexander in the grand hall of Reid Enterprises, where dozens of reporters and photographers had gathered. The world had been waiting for this moment—the first public appearance of Mr. and Mrs. Reid.
Her hand rested lightly on her lap, fingers grazing the smooth fabric of her custom-made white dress. Flawless. Controlled. Untouchable.
That's how she had to appear.
Alexander, seated beside her, looked completely at ease—his suit crisp, his gaze sharp, his presence overwhelming. He exuded power, as if he owned the entire world and was merely entertaining the press out of amusement.
The cameras flashed as a journalist stood up.
"Mr. Reid, congratulations on your sudden marriage! It was quite the shock to many. Could you tell us how you and Mrs. Reid fell in love?"
Alexander smirked, his fingers tapping lazily against the armrest of his chair. "Love is a complicated thing," he mused. Then, without hesitation, he turned his head slightly, looking at Elena with a gaze so intense, so utterly possessive, that she nearly forgot to breathe.
"It was unexpected," he continued, voice rich and smooth. "But when you meet a woman like Elena, resisting is impossible."
The room gasped.
Elena felt the heat of his words sink into her skin. She knew this was part of the act, knew Alexander was crafting a story, but the way his gaze burned into hers made it difficult to separate the lie from the truth.
She smiled, tilting her chin slightly, playing the role flawlessly. "It wasn't easy," she added, matching his energy. "Alexander is not a man who falls easily. But when he does… he never lets go."
Another murmur rippled through the crowd.
Alexander's lips twitched—just slightly—as if amused by her boldness.
The journalist nodded. "And what about Dominic Sinclair? There have been rumors that you were once engaged to him, Mrs. Reid. Was this marriage a form of revenge?"
The air shifted.
The press loved drama. They wanted blood.
Elena's heart clenched for just a second—not from fear, but from rage. The past her would have crumbled under this question. She would have stammered, tried to explain herself, tried to please everyone.
But this Elena?
She smiled—slow, confident, lethal.
"My past is just that—the past," she said smoothly. "And I don't waste my time looking back."
Alexander chuckled beside her. "Dominic Sinclair is irrelevant," he said, his tone carrying an unmistakable edge. "And I don't concern myself with men who can't hold onto what's theirs."
Silence.
The jab was unmistakable. The press went wild, whispering, typing furiously.
Somewhere, Dominic was seething.
And Elena?
She stole a glance at Alexander, her heart pounding in her chest.
Because she realized something terrifying.
He wasn't just acting.
His words carried a dangerous amount of truth.
Dominic's Fury – A Mistake He Will Regret
Across the city, Dominic slammed his glass onto his desk, the expensive whiskey splashing over his hand.
"That bastard," he seethed. "That son of a—"
"Dominic," Lily Carter—his mistress, Elena's stepsister—touched his arm delicately, faking concern. "You shouldn't get so angry. She's just trying to provoke you."
Dominic's jaw tightened. "Elena was mine. She belonged to me."
Lily's smile twitched slightly, but she hid it well. "Maybe she was never really yours to begin with," she murmured.
He turned on her sharply. "Watch what you say, Lily."
But Lily only batted her lashes, smiling sweetly. "I'm just saying… if you really want to make her regret leaving you, you'll have to do more than sit here and sulk."
Dominic's fingers curled into a fist.
Yes. He would make Elena pay.
He would ruin her in front of the entire world.
And if Alexander Reid wanted to stand in his way?
He'd burn him to the ground too.
That Night – The Fire Between Them
Elena barely had time to unpin her hair before Alexander appeared behind her in their penthouse suite.
She caught his reflection in the mirror—dark, unreadable, dangerous.
"You handled the press well," he murmured.
"Did you doubt me?" she countered, removing her earrings.
Alexander didn't answer. Instead, he took a step closer. Deliberate. Measured.
Her pulse spiked.
The air felt thick, electric.
His fingers reached up, brushing against her bare shoulder, his touch burning.
Elena froze, her breath catching in her throat.
"Tell me, Elena," he murmured, his lips near her ear. "What would you have done if I hadn't come for you?"
She swallowed, trying to ignore the way his scent—smoky, rich, masculine—wrapped around her.
"I don't need a man to save me," she replied coolly.
Alexander's lips twitched. "No, you don't."
His fingers traced up her arm, slow, torturous. "But tell me… do you still believe you can fight me?"
Elena turned, suddenly facing him. Their bodies were too close, too charged.
"I don't fight battles I can't win," she whispered.
His smirk was predatory. "And yet you keep challenging me."
His hand slid to her waist, pulling her against him. Their breaths mingled, hot, unsteady.
Elena should have stepped away.
She should have run.
But instead, she whispered, "Maybe I like the game."
Alexander's eyes darkened.
And then
He kissed her.
Fierce. Consuming. Possessive.
Elena gasped, her fingers clutching his shirt as his lips devoured hers, demanding, ruthless.
This wasn't a kiss.
It was a claim.
Her heart pounded as she kissed him back, as his hands tightened around her waist, as the heat between them threatened to burn her alive.
But just as suddenly, Alexander pulled away, his breathing ragged.
His control slipped—just for a second.
Then, his gaze sharpened.
"This doesn't change anything," he muttered.
Elena smirked,licking her swollen lips. "Of course not, Mr. Reid."
But as she walked away, heart racing, hands trembling, she knew one thing for certain.
She had just started a fire she wasn't sure she could put out.