I hated waiting—especially in my own office.
The room was designed to intimidate. Dark wood. Steel accents. Bulletproof glass stretching floor to ceiling, overlooking a city that knew my name but never my face. Power lived here. Legacy, too. All of it inherited. All of it expected.
Just like this arrangement disguised as a marriage.
Hera Miller.
A young CEO. An heiress. A woman chosen for me long before either of us had a say in it. Our parents called it an alliance—bloodlines, businesses, empires intertwining neatly on paper. I called it what it was: another decision carved into stone by people who believed obedience was the same thing as loyalty.
I wasn't happy about it. I hate the thought of being tied down to one person.
But I wasn't stupid enough to refuse.
In my world, sons didn't say no to their parents. Not when your family name carried fear as currency. Not when disobedience didn't just disappoint—it endangered.
I leaned back in my chair, jaw tight, eyes drifting to the city below. I already knew one thing for certain: I had no intention of being the faithful husband type. I'd never pretended otherwise. Women came easily, left just as easily, and expected nothing more than I was willing to give.
A womanizer.
That label followed me everywhere. It didn't bother me. It was useful—kept expectations low and distractions high.
And yet… something about her complicated that.
I hadn't seen Hera in years, but I remembered her too clearly. Sharp eyes. Sharper mind. A girl who observed more than she spoke, who never shrank even when the room expected her to. Back then, I'd been reckless, already dangerous in ways I didn't fully understand.
And I'd liked her.
More than I should have.
The memory lingered now, unwelcome and persistent, turning this arrangement into something more than a transaction. She wasn't a stranger being handed to me. She was a piece of my past—someone who remembered me before the titles, before the blood, before the weight settled permanently on my shoulders.
That made her interesting. Dangerously so.
A knock sounded at the door.
I straightened instinctively, my expression hardening as the familiar mask slid into place. This was it. Hera's parents, here to follow up on an agreement already decided. No negotiations. No reconsiderations. Just confirmation.
I exhaled slowly. I would play my part. I always did.
Still, as I waited for the door to open, a thought settled uncomfortably in my mind:
This marriage might not be the cage I expected.
It might be the one thing capable of undoing me.
⸻
The door opened, and her parents stepped inside.
I leaned back against my desk, swirling the whiskey slowly in my glass. They'd taken long enough. I almost smiled at the thought of traffic being worse than their daughter's attitude—no, scratch that. Hera had always been a firecracker.
I set the glass down with a smirk.
"Let's skip the pleasantries," I said casually. "You're not here for small talk."
This was business. An agreement between families. Marriage papers and carefully packaged expectations. I stood slowly, straightening my tie.
She'd grown far too interesting for her own good.
One thing, however, needed to be clear.
They shouldn't expect me to be the devoted husband type. I played by my own rules. Within reason.
So I let the question hang in the air, unspoken but obvious.
Her parents exchanged a glance.
Her father spoke first. "Alex, we've decided. This marriage will happen."
"Good." I say.
Her father speaks again. "We are well aware of your reputation."
I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
"We have no issue with you entertaining yourself," he continued. "As long as you're discreet."
Her mother followed, voice calm, almost apologetic. "We understand this is an arranged marriage. We don't expect love. We simply need you to marry our daughter and keep up appearances."
I let out a short scoff, leaning back.
At least they weren't delusional. I'd half expected some fairytale nonsense wrapped in tradition and false promises.
So basically—husband by day, player by night.
It sounded like freedom with a ring attached.
"Count me in," I said lightly.
But even as the words left my mouth, I thought of her again—of Hera sitting at the head of a boardroom, spine straight, eyes calculating. A woman who didn't bend easily. A woman who wouldn't play the role quietly.
This wasn't going to be simple.
And for the first time in a long while, I wasn't sure whether that thrilled me—
or warned me.
The conversation didn't end with my agreement. It never does.
They sat across from me like negotiators, not parents discussing their daughter's future. Hera's father folded his hands neatly on the table, posture rigid, eyes sharp with calculation. Her mother remained quieter, nodding along, her presence more symbolic than authoritative.
"This marriage isn't only about appearances," her father said. "Hera represents stability. Intelligence. Public legitimacy. Together, you strengthen each other's reach."
I listened, expression neutral, filing away every word.
"She will continue to run her company," he added. "We expect no interference on that front. In return, her name becomes tied to yours. Boardrooms open. Governments listen."
A strategic queen placed carefully beside the king.
"And discretion," her mother said softly, finally speaking up. "On both sides. The public must see unity."
I gave a slow nod. "I don't blur business with sentiment. She won't be restricted. I won't be questioned."
That seemed to satisfy them—for now.
A pause settled over the room, heavy with unsaid clauses. Hera's father glanced toward the door, then back at me.
"Hera will be joining us shortly," he said. Then, turning to his wife, "Could you give us a moment?"
Her mother hesitated, just briefly, before standing. "Of course."
She left the room quietly, the door closing behind her with a soft click.
The air shifted instantly.
Hera's father leaned forward, voice lowering. "There's another matter we need to discuss. One not included in the marriage contract."
I didn't move. Didn't speak. I just waited.
"There are factions," he continued, "that don't benefit from this alliance. Competitors. Enemies. People who will test this union the moment it's public."
I smiled faintly. "They always do."
"This is where you come in, Alex," he said. "Your… reach. Your methods. We need assurance that any threats—financial or otherwise—are neutralized before they reach Hera."
There it was. Not love. Not family but protection, bought and paid for.
"You want insurance," I said calmly.
"I want to be safe," he replied. "And I want this alliance unbreakable."
"Are you being threatened by anyone at the moment?" I say with a hushed tone. Careful but testing.
He doesn't answer immediately. "We are powerful men, aren't we always being threatened?"
I studied him for a long moment. He wasn't asking as a father. He was negotiating as a man who'd built his life on control—and intended to keep it that way.
"You'll have it," I said finally. "But understand this—once I step in, I do things my way. No interference. No second-guessing."
His jaw tightened, and I saw a flicker of irritation flash through his eyes then he nodded. "Agreed."
The door opened again, and the tension snapped back into place like it had never existed.
Hera's mother returned first, followed shortly by Hera herself.
She looked composed, immaculate, unreadable. But above all insanely beautiful. Her soft green eyes and her flawless tanned skin. That outfit that hugs her curves perfectly, her silky hair made in an updo. Her sweet and strong perfume that fills the room. Those lips. Damn it I could just— no I can't be thinking of that right now. Now when she looks exactly like someone raised in pressure learned to survive it. But I'll be damned if I don't say I'm invested.
I stood instinctively. "Hera."
She met my gaze briefly—cool, assessing, unafraid.
Her father rose as well. "We were just finalizing details."
"Hello Alex." Hera says.
I look at her my gaze as unwavering as hers.
Hera's eyes flicked to her father, then back to me.
He hesitated—just a fraction—before saying. "We set up a date for you too tomorrow just to get to know each other before the wedding."
"No problem, send me the details and I'll make room in my schedule." I say finally looking away from her turning to her father instead.
Hera didn't argue. She simply turned and walked out, heels steady against the floor, spine straight. Controlled. Always controlled.
When the door closed behind her, I exhaled slowly.
The deal was done.
But the real game—one involving secrets, protection, and a woman far more dangerous than either family realized—was only just beginning.