Elena Morgan's wedding day looked nothing like she had imagined as a girl.
There was no soft glow of romance, no fluttering heart, no whispered promises of forever. Instead, there was a sapphire-blue designer gown she hadn't chosen, a diamond ring that felt heavy on her hand, and the cool, commanding presence of Alexander Knight beside her.
The ceremony was small but staged—exactly as Alexander had planned it. Just enough paparazzi had been tipped off to make the marriage convincing, their lenses flashing like fireworks through the stained-glass windows of the glass-walled chapel overlooking Central Park.
The priest's voice echoed, solemn and measured.
"Do you, Alexander Knight, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do," Alexander said smoothly, his gray eyes locked on her. His tone was calm, but there was something in his gaze that made Elena's pulse trip. A claim. A promise. A challenge.
"And do you, Elena Morgan, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
Her throat tightened. Her lips felt dry. But Lily's face swam before her eyes—the reason she had agreed to this madness.
"I… do."
Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was enough.
The words sealed her fate.
When the priest announced them husband and wife, Alexander cupped her face with one large, steady hand and kissed her.
The world tilted.
Elena had expected his lips to be cold, perfunctory, just enough for the cameras. Instead, his kiss was commanding, devastating, a possession that stole the breath from her lungs. His mouth was firm, certain, unyielding. And for a moment—just a heartbeat—her body betrayed her. Heat flared where there should have been only revulsion.
Applause erupted from the handful of witnesses. Cameras flashed like lightning. Alexander pulled back, his hand still resting at her jaw, his lips curved in a faint smirk.
"Perfect," he murmured for her ears alone. "You play the role well, darling."
Elena's cheeks burned. Her hands trembled as he took her arm and guided her down the aisle like the devoted husband the world expected him to be.
The limo ride afterward was silent, except for the hum of the engine. Elena stared out the tinted window, fists clenched in her lap.
Finally, she turned to him. "That kiss—"
"Convincing?" he interrupted smoothly.
"Unnecessary," she snapped.
His smirk widened, infuriatingly smug. "On the contrary. The whole world was watching. Better they believe we're madly in love."
"I'd rather die than be madly in love with you."
He leaned closer, his breath brushing her ear, his voice low and dangerous. "Careful, Mrs. Knight. You'll tempt me to make you prove it."
Her pulse raced in spite of herself. She forced her glare to remain steady.
"This may be a contract, Alexander, but my heart isn't for sale."
His expression shifted, just for an instant—something unreadable flickered in those steel-gray eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by his usual mask of arrogance.
"Good," he said softly, sitting back. "I have no interest in hearts."
But Elena wasn't convinced.