“Marry you? You must be joking.”

My voice barely sounded like my own—strained, incredulous, and trembling beneath the weight of his audacious proposal.

The dining room seemed to shrink, the crystal chandeliers above glaring down like an interrogation light.

Across the table, Alexander Steele’s expression didn’t flicker.

His gaze locked on mine, sharp and unyielding.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

His tone was as cold and calculated as the man himself.

Alexander Steele didn’t offer lifelines—he threw anchors disguised as deals.

And this? This was no different.

“You think I’m that desperate?”

I leaned back, my chair scraping against the marble floor. I wanted to laugh, to rage, to do anything but face the reality of his proposition.

“I think you’re smart,” he said, his voice infuriatingly calm.

“Smart enough to see this is the only way to save what’s left of your reputation. And your company.”

His words cut deeper than any insult Mia had hurled my way.

Because they weren’t just words—they were facts, cold and indisputable.

Without Steele Enterprises’ backing, Lancaster Designs wouldn’t last another month. And worse, if Mia had already sold out to them...

“You don’t own me,” I snapped, clinging to the last shred of defiance I had.

“Not yet.”

The words hung between us, heavy and suffocating.

His confidence was maddening, like he’d already mapped out every move I could make and dismantled them before I even tried.

“Why me?” I demanded, the question escaping before I could stop it.

“You could have anyone. Why—”

He leaned forward then, his elbows resting on the pristine white tablecloth.

The shift in his posture sent a ripple of unease down my spine.

“Because you need me, Olivia. And I need someone who understands the stakes.”

My pulse hammered in my ears.

He wasn’t lying—at least not entirely.

But there was more to this, something lurking beneath his polished surface.

“And what’s in it for you?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“What do you get out of marrying a woman whose life is in ruins?”

His lips curved into a faint, humorless smile.

“Leverage.”

That one word sent a shiver down my spine.

Leverage. He didn’t want a wife—he wanted a pawn.

“Forget it,” I said, standing abruptly. “I’ll find another way.”

But as I turned to leave, his voice stopped me cold.

“You won’t.”

He was right, and we both knew it. Still, I didn’t turn around.

Not until he delivered the final blow.

“If you walk away now, I’ll make sure Lancaster Designs is blacklisted across the industry.

Mia’s betrayal will be the least of your worries.”

The threat hit like a slap, leaving me rooted in place.

Slowly, I turned to face him, my hands curling into fists at my sides.

“You’re a monster,” I whispered.

“And you’re out of time,” he countered, rising from his chair.

The distance between us felt insurmountable, but his presence loomed over me like a shadow.

“The choice is yours, Olivia,” he said, his voice a lethal blend of steel and silk.

“Sink with your pride, or survive with me.”

My chest tightened as his words settled over me like a noose.

Pride or survival?

Love or leverage?

Neither felt like a choice, yet here I was, cornered by a man who never played fair.

My lips parted, the bitter taste of surrender already on my tongue.

But before I could speak, the door burst open, and a familiar voice shattered the tension.

“Olivia, don’t do it!”

I turned, my heart lurching as Mia stepped into the room, her face pale but defiant.

And just like that, the game had changed again.

"Smile, Olivia. The cameras are watching."

His whispered words slid like ice down my spine.

Alexander’s hand tightened on mine, his grip firm but devoid of warmth.

We stood under the glaring spotlight of a hundred flashing cameras, the air heavy with champagne and artificial congratulations.

"You make it sound so natural," I murmured, my lips frozen in a practiced smile.

The wedding dress clung to me like a chain, suffocating in its pristine perfection.

Every lace and pearl was chosen to scream opulence, yet all I felt was a hollow ache.

"Practice makes perfect," he replied smoothly, his face an unreadable mask.

Perfect.

That was Alexander Steele’s world.

Perfect deals, perfect lies, perfect control.

And now, I was his newest acquisition—a bride sold to the highest bidder under the guise of saving my family’s legacy.

My stomach twisted as the officiant’s voice rang out. "You may kiss the bride."

"Play along," Alexander whispered, his lips barely moving.

Before I could flinch, he leaned in.

The kiss was mechanical, brief, and cold—an obligation, not a promise.

Applause erupted around us, but all I could hear was the pounding of my pulse and the soft murmur of his next words.

"Welcome to the game, Mrs. Steele."

His voice was a warning, a reminder that this wasn’t a fairy tale.

The reception blurred into a haze of polite smiles and meaningless toasts.

Alexander floated through the crowd like a king among subjects, leaving me trailing in his shadow.

Guests congratulated me with thinly veiled envy or pity, their eyes sharp and probing.

I wondered how many of them knew the truth.

"You’re quite the actress, Olivia."

I turned to find a woman with crimson lips and sharp eyes holding a flute of champagne.

Her smile was as predatory as the man I’d just married.

"Do I know you?"

"Not yet," she said, her tone dripping with amusement. "But you will. Everyone in

Steele’s orbit eventually does."

Before I could respond, Alexander appeared at my side, his presence cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Ms. Calloway," he greeted her, his tone curt.

"I trust you’re enjoying the evening?"

"Always," she purred, her gaze flicking between us.

"Your wife is... captivating."

I wanted to laugh.

Or scream. Instead, I offered a polite nod, the weight of their unspoken words pressing against my chest.

Hours later, when the last guest had left, we stood alone in the cavernous penthouse.

The silence between us was deafening, thick with unsaid things.

"So, what now?" I asked, my voice brittle.

"Now," Alexander said, unbuttoning his cufflinks with meticulous precision, "you learn the rules."

He stepped closer, his gaze as sharp as the edge of a knife.

"Rule one: This is not a marriage."

The air felt colder.

"Rule two," he continued, his voice low, "Don’t embarrass me."

My breath hitched, but I refused to look away.

"And rule three," he said, leaning in so close I could feel the heat of his breath, "never forget why you’re here. This is business. Nothing more."

My heart sank, his words cutting deeper than any blade.

"Understood?" he asked, his tone as unyielding as steel.

I met his gaze, my defiance flickering like a dying flame.

"Understood," I whispered.

But as he turned away, the smallest crack appeared in his facade—a flicker of something raw, something human.

It was gone in an instant, but it was enough to make me wonder who Alexander Steele really was beneath the armor.

For now, though, I was trapped in his game, with no clear way out.