Heir of Deception | (for mature audience)

Chapter 8: Alexandria

Alexandria

-

"So, why the hell am I not allowed to have people over without your consent?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest defiantly.

He looked up from the agreement we were discussing, his brow furrowed. "Because I don't like having people I don't know coming in and out of my home."

"That makes no sense," I replied, scratching through the clause on the paper with my pen. "I'm living here now. It's ridiculous for you to expect me not to bring friends over."

"Do you know what else doesn't make sense?" he shot back, leaning forward, his voice low and intense. "Us being allowed to see other people while we're together."

"It makes perfect sense," I countered, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "You have needs-sexual ones-and I'm not going to fulfill those for you. If you need that, go find someone else."

"What makes you think I will allow you to see other people while you're with me?" he asked, leaning even closer, his hands crossed on the table, the tension between us palpable. "If you let another man, other than me, touch you, I will end up in prison for murder."

"That's tempting," I smirked, trying to lighten the mood, even as my heart raced at the intensity of his gaze.

"I'll be crossing that from the agreement, okay?" he said, his lips curling into a small smile as he struck a line through the text in front of him.

"Do whatever," I said, rolling my eyes, but I felt a thrill at the banter we were sharing.

After we had gone back and forth on our lists, eventually agreeing on everything, we signed the agreement and went our separate ways. I headed to my room, taking a moment to collect myself before I jumped into the shower. The water washed away the tension from our earlier conversation, and once I dried off, I slipped into my new baby blue silk pajamas that felt soft against my skin.

Just as I was about to crawl into bed, I heard a knock on my door. Curious, I opened it and found him standing there, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a simple t-shirt. He looked relaxed, a far cry from the uptight rich guy I was used to.

"You're wearing my favorite color," he grinned, and I couldn't help but return the smile, feeling a flutter in my chest. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," I replied, stepping aside to let him in, my heart racing for reasons I couldn't quite understand.

I walked over to my bed and sat up with the blankets covering my legs, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement as he joined me, sitting against the headboard with his feet off the bed.

"Why do you want us to see other people if we're together?" he asked, looking over at me, his eyes searching mine.

"Because you don't like me," I said bluntly, the words spilling out before I could stop them.

"What makes you think that I don't like you, princess?" he asked, his tone genuinely confused.

"You're cold towards me," I replied, my voice quieter.

"Well, I'm sorry if you feel that way. I never wanted you to think I don't like you," he said, shifting his body a little closer to me, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

"You're also unhappy with this arrangement, and if you want to back out of this, I fully understand," I said, my heart sinking at the thought.

"I want this, and I want it with you," he said, the sincerity in his voice making my pulse quicken. "Do you believe that we could fall in love like a real couple?"

"I don't know," I admitted softly, my heart torn between hope and fear.

"We can try, princess," he said, lifting my chin gently with his fingers, forcing me to meet his gaze. "We can try to make it work before the wedding, and if it doesn't, you can call it off."

The prospect of calling off the wedding with a man who seemed to embody everything my parents wanted me to have terrified me. It would just add fuel to the fire, another reason why I was not the perfect daughter like my sister. I could already hear my parents' disappointed speeches echoing in my mind.

"We can try," I finally let out, my voice barely above a whisper.

"That sounds good to me, princess," he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face, illuminating his features.

Our faces moved closer, drawn together by an invisible force. Something inside me screamed to pull away, but the other part urged me to lean in closer and let it happen. Our foreheads touched, then our noses, and before I knew it, our lips met in a tentative kiss.

It was electric. His lips moved in sync with mine, igniting a fire deep within me. He pulled me over onto his lap, our lips dancing together, our chemistry undeniable. His hands roamed up and down my body, exploring the curves and contours, the softness of my skin making him groan softly. My fingers tangled in his dark brown hair, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.

But then, he pulled back slightly, his brow furrowing. "The ink is barely dry; we shouldn't be doing this, princess."

"Yeah, yeah. I agree," I said breathlessly, already craving the taste of his lips again.

But my resolve shattered as our lips crashed back together. I grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, exposing his ripped physique. His abs were chiseled, and a tattoo adorned the middle of his muscular chest. He was fucking hot, and the sight of him made my head spin.

"We should stop, princess," he said, his voice strained, though his eyes betrayed his desire.

"Why?" I asked, breathless as I traced my fingers across his chest, feeling the heat radiating from him.

Without him saying anything, my mind raced with insecurities. The voice in my head whispered that I was not worthy of him-that I was fat and hideous compared to the beautiful women he could have. Why would he ever want me when he could have a model like Gigi or Bella Hadid? He was a billionaire; women would flock to him. I was just average old me, and I would never live up to his standards.

"It's fine, don't answer me. Just leave," I said, my voice rising in panic. "Leave my fucking room!" I shouted, throwing his shirt at him in a fit of frustration.

The moment hung in the air, thick with unspoken feelings and broken expectations. As I watched him step back, hurt flashing across his face, I felt a mix of regret and anger swirling inside me. I wanted him, but the fear of rejection was suffocating.