Chapter 64

ALINA

The room was so silent, I could hear the subtle tick, tick, tick of the antique clock on the far wall.

My eyes flicked down to the contract once more. My name stared back at me—blank, untouched, still mine.

His name was already scrawled in dark, fluid ink. Alexander Dimitri.

Bold.

Unbothered.

Like he’d known from the beginning that I’d cave.

I hesitated—then reached for the mobile on the edge of the desk.

The live feed blinked awake with a soft glow.

There it was.

The orphanage.

My home.

My heart.

Children were scattered across the courtyard, their laughter frozen in time by the screen.

A game of tag.

A ball bouncing.

A girl chasing bubbles barefoot.

Blissfully unaware.

Unaware of the guards standing just out of frame, close enough to follow a single command.

Guns strapped to their sides.

Trained. Cold. Ready.

All he had to do was say the word.

And everything I loved would be reduced to rubble and grief.

My grip on the mobile tightened.

He had already signed.

And now, I had to choose.

My hand hovered above the paper, pen trembling between my fingers like it weighed a thousand pounds.

My signature—just one line.

One moment.

One mistake I couldn’t take back.

I could feel his stare on me.

Not impatient.

Just... expectant.

Confident.

That smug bastard.

Leo sat on the couch, legs crossed, sipping his whiskey like this was some kind of live-action soap opera.

There was even a faint grin on his face, like he couldn’t wait for the next scandalous scene.

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood.

My life. My name.

Sold off like property.

He had backed me into a corner.

There was no knight in shining armour coming.

No miracle.

Just me.

And the devil was waiting across from me, in his custom-tailored suit and eyes dark enough to swallow whole galaxies.

My throat tightened.

I could barely breathe.

I wanted to scream, to rip the screen from the wall, to tear his smug face apart with my bare hands.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

Because one wrong move, one wrong word, and those children wouldn’t be laughing anymore.

“I hate you,” I whispered, not even looking at him.

“I hate you more than I’ve ever hated anyone in my life.”

And I meant it.

With every cell in my body.

My fingers still reached for the pen.

Because hate wouldn’t bring Maya back if they pulled the trigger.

Hate wouldn’t save the kids. Hate wouldn’t matter—not when the cost was blood.

The pen shook in my grip.

“Whatever soul you had rotted a long time ago,” I said quietly.

“Because what you are now… doesn’t deserve to be called human.”

Alexander’s lips twitched—not quite a smile, more like the shadow of one.

He stepped closer, his presence all heat and menace, voice a velvet-draped blade.

“Human?” he repeated, almost amused.

“Darling, humanity is a luxury men like me can’t afford....”

“...And a soul?” He tilted his head, eyes glinting with something darker than amusement.

“I sold mine the day I realised power mattered more.”

Then, softer—crueller:

“But don’t worry, wife. I may be a monster… but I’m your monster now.”

I stared at the pen, still warm from his fingers.

My name waited—an empty line, untouched. The final thread tying me to freedom.

I could still walk away.

I could still say no.

But I couldn’t unsee the image burned into that screen.

Maya.

Laughing.

The children clinging to her like they always did—innocent, loud, blissfully unaware of the wolves standing at their door with fingers on triggers.

A single word from me could end them.

Or save them.

My throat burned.

I swallowed it down.

My gaze lifted to Alexander, his expression carved from stone and sin, the devil himself dressed in tailored perfection.

Calm.

Certain.

Like he knew exactly how far he could push before I’d break.

I inhaled deeply, forcing my voice to stay level.

“I hope one day you choke on all this power you worship,” I said, my words slow and deliberate.

“That the blood on your hands finally drowns you before anyone else can.”

His eyes flickered—but he said nothing. Of course, he didn’t.

Monsters rarely bled when cut.

My fingers curled around the pen.

“If I’m going to be your wife,” I said, each word cutting through the silence like a blade,

“Then know this—I’ll make you pay every single day. You’ll curse the moment you forced me into this marriage, and you’ll never forget the fire I left behind.”

And then, I signed.

With one last breath, I lowered the pen and signed.

Letter by letter.

Name by name.

It was done.

The sound of the pen hitting the table was far louder than it should have been.

Final.

Leo let out a dramatic gasp.

“Well, thank fuck,” Leo drawled, raising his glass with a smirk. “The deed is done. I thought we’d be here another hour, but look at that—the bride finally signed her soul away.”

I resisted the urge to throw the pen at his head.

Alexander didn’t say anything at first.

He simply stepped forward, picked up the contract, and glanced down at it.

His thumb brushed over my signature as if verifying it was real. His jaw shifted slightly—like a tic of satisfaction.

Then he folded the papers with calculated precision and handed them off to Donovan, who had materialised at the edge of the room like a silent shadow.

“There,” Alexander murmured, his voice rich and low as the ink dried beneath my trembling signature.

“Legal. Binding.”

“And romantic as hell,” Leo quipped from the corner, swirling the amber liquid in his glass like this was some soap opera he’d tuned in for.

“Truly warms the heart.”

He raised his glass in a mock toast, eyebrows arched.

“You may now kiss the bride—preferably without traumatising the rest of us.”

My head snapped toward him.

“What—”

But I didn’t get the chance to finish.

In one swift, unannounced motion, Alexander reached for me.

His fingers curled around my wrist—not hard, but firm—and he tugged me up from the chair before I could even find my footing.

The sudden movement made the room spin, and made my heart leap into my throat.

And then—

His mouth was on mine.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was war.

He kissed me like he was claiming territory, like his name on that paper wasn’t enough. His free hand slid to my jaw, tilting my face up as his mouth devoured mine.

The heat, the pressure, the sheer dominance of it—my mind went blank.

Everything blurred.

The room, the contract, Leo’s laughter somewhere in the background—it all disappeared beneath the storm of Alexander Dimitri’s kiss.

I should’ve pulled away.

I wanted to pull away.

But my hands had braced against his chest before I even realised it, fingers curling into the fabric of his suit as if bracing for impact.

He kissed like he ruled kingdoms—and destroyed them too.

And somewhere in the back of my brain, I hated myself for noticing how good he smelled.

Clean spice, dark leather, and something unmistakably his.

My body burned at the proximity, at the way his lips pressed hard, unforgiving, sending jolts of betrayal down my spine.

Then he pulled back just slightly, his breath brushing against mine.

“See?” he whispered, eyes burning into mine.

“Wasn’t that bad.”

I wanted to slap him.

I wanted to run.

Instead, I stood there, frozen in the aftermath of his hurricane kiss, every nerve frayed and on fire.

“Let’s make one thing clear,” I rasped, voice raw, shaking.

“That meant nothing.”

Alexander’s smirk deepened, smug and satisfied.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, wife.”

Wife.

The word slid off his tongue like honey laced with venom—slow, deliberate, and meant to sting.

I wasn’t just a woman with a pen and a bad decision anymore.

I was his wife.

The wife of a mobster.

Bound not by love, but by ink, power, and a deal signed in desperation.

Leo, who had been watching the entire exchange like it was a front-row seat to a drama, let out a long whistle.

“I give it three days before one of you snaps and ends up throwing a vase.”

“I’m betting on her,” Donovan added blandly from the doorway.

I turned away from Alexander, trying to reassemble whatever dignity I had left.

“Is that it?” I asked, voice tight.

“Is there some kind of initiation ceremony next? Branding, maybe?” I asked, voice sharp with sarcasm.

Alexander chuckled under his breath, the sound low and almost amused.

“Branding?” His mouth curved into a slow, devilish smile.

“I like the way you think, Mrs. Dimitri. If you’re offering, I could have my initials etched somewhere...private.”

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping.

“Though I prefer to leave my mark in other ways.”

I rolled my eyes

"—Don’t flatter yourself. The only thing you’ve left so far is the stench of arrogance and expensive cologne.”

I stepped past him, my shoulder brushing his arm with deliberate indifference.

“Oh, and if you ever try to brand me, Alexander,” I added over my shoulder,

“You’d better pray you’re unconscious when I return the favour.”

Alexander chuckled, low and rough, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

“I really do enjoy this back and forth,” he said, voice like velvet soaked in sin.

“It’s like foreplay—with more clothes and sharper words.”

He stepped closer, gaze flicking over me with slow, possessive interest.

“But playtime’s over, wife. For now, you’ll be moving into the master wing.”

“Master wing?” I echoed, blinking.

He turned to face me fully, his expression maddeningly calm.

“I had it prepared especially for you,” Alexander said, voice smooth as silk but laced with iron.

“New linens. A full walk-in closet—though we’ll need to work on your wardrobe. I had most of your things sent over. The room’s bigger than your last one. High ceilings. Fireplace. And a balcony overlooking the gardens.”

I barely had time to process the words before he added, almost as an afterthought—

“Oh, and by the way, the wing is four floors up. Minimal foot traffic. Zero chance of escape.”

My eyes snapped to his, but he was already walking ahead, casual and unhurried.

“You know,” he called over his shoulder,

“Since you have a habit of jumping off balconies… I couldn’t risk my lovely wife getting herself hurt.”

He turned, his grin as sharp as broken glass.

“Wouldn’t want you shattering before I even get to enjoy the honeymoon.”

I stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“You’re kidding.”

His eyes gleamed, that signature smirk playing on his lips.

“Do I look like a man who jokes?”

He looked at me with the kind of amusement a lion might offer a particularly feisty lamb.

“We’re married now. You’ll be staying where a wife belongs.”

I clenched my fists, fury rising so fast I could taste it.

“You think you can control me with a piece of paper and a kiss?”

“No,” he said smoothly.

“I think I already have.”

The silence that followed was thick and sharp.

And in that moment, I hated him more than I ever thought possible.

But even more than that, I hated that part of me—some dark, hidden part—wanted to slap him and kiss him all over again in the same breath.

Leo clapped his hands once.

“Well. I’m off to tell the kitchen to start preparing celebratory drinks. Nothing like forced matrimony to whet the appetite.”

As he sauntered off, Alexander turned back toward me, eyes locked onto mine with razor-sharp focus.

“Be packed and ready by six,” he said.

“You’ll be sleeping in my wing tonight.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

He leaned in again, voice husky. “Yet.”

And just like that, he walked away—leaving me breathless, furious, and married to a man I was pretty sure came straight from hell.