Alyssa’s eyes fluttered open.
The first thing she saw was a chandelier.
Crystal droplets caught the morning light, casting tiny rainbows across the ceiling.
It was beautiful.
For a moment, her mind was blank.
Where am I?
She tried to sit up, and a wave of soreness crashed through her body.
Every muscle ached.
Her bones felt heavy.
Was I beaten?
She pushed herself upright, her hands pressing into the mattress.
The sheets were tangled around her legs.
She looked down.
Her eyes suddenly widened.
“Wait…”
She was naked.
No bra.
No panties.
And on the white sheets beneath her, there were spots of dried blood.
“No,” she whispered.
Then louder, “No, no, no!”
What happened to me?
“You shout a lot.”
The voice came from the doorway.
Alyssa’s head snapped up.
A man stood there, leaning against the frame.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark curly hair that was still slightly damp.
His eyes were grey.
Piercing.
Like storm clouds.
“How did you get access to my room?” she demanded, her voice sharp despite the tremor in her hands.
She clutched the blanket tighter.
“Who are you?”
Alexander didn’t move.
He watched her with an unreadable expression.
“I should be the one asking you that question.”
“What?”
He stepped into the room, his movements slow and deliberate.
Earlier that morning, he had already searched her belongings while she slept.
He knew it was wrong but he had no choice.
He needed to know if she was another one of his mother’s pawns.
Now, seeing her reaction, he was certain she wasn’t sent by his mother.
Alyssa stared at the man standing before her.
He looked like a Greek god.
There was no other way to describe it.
His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass.
His nose was straight, his lips full.
His grey eyes held a depth that made her stomach flip.
Stop it, she told herself.
Focus.
But she couldn’t help noticing the way his damp hair curled at his temples.
The way his white shirt clung to his chest.
The way he looked at her—not with lust, but with curiosity.
Alexander was doing the same.
Even with her makeup ruined, her face pale and tired, she was beautiful.
Her hair was a cascade of blonde and silver, like moonlight on snow.
Her eyes were a stormy blue, fierce and defiant despite her situation.
Alyssa cleared her throat.
“What do you mean, you should be the one asking me that question? Are you trying to say I got the wrong room?”
“Mhm.”
Alexander nodded.
“And you tortured me all night.”
Alyssa’s eyes widened.
“Tortured you? Look at me!” She pointed at herself in disbelief, her voice rising.
“I’m in pain right now! I don’t know what happened last night, and I don’t know who you are, but I know I didn’t torture anyone!”
She was snapping now.
She knew she shouldn’t.
The man in front of her was dangerous, she could feel it in the way he moved, and also the way he spoke.
But she couldn’t accept this.
She couldn’t accept being taken advantage of, waking up bruised and bleeding.
“What are you going to do about it?” she demanded.
Alexander’s smile widened.
Instead of answering, he walked closer, his footsteps silent on the carpet.
He stopped at the edge of the bed and bent down, bringing his face close to hers.
Alyssa held her breath.
Her heart suddenly started beating faster.
“What are you doing?”
Alexander ignored her question.
He was so close.
She could see the flecks of silver in his grey eyes.
She could smell his cologne, something woody and clean.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
“What should I do about it?” he murmured, his voice low.
“When we both enjoyed it.”
“Enjoyed what?” she whispered.
“I didn’t—”
“You did.”
He was teasing her.
She could see it in his eyes.
But there was something else there too.
Something that made her cheeks burn.
She opened her mouth to argue, but the words died in her throat.
She had never been this close to a man before except during filming and…Eldric.
The thought of her ex-boyfriend immediately ruined her mood.
Alexander reached up and pulled down the collar of his shirt.
The marks were vivid.
Purple and red, scattered across his neck like a constellation of bruises.
Some were small, round imprints of teeth.
Others were larger, darker, shaped by lips and suction.
He looked at Alyssa, his grey eyes glinting with amusement.
“Which cat did this to me?” he asked.
Alyssa’s face erupted in heat.
She didn’t need anyone to tell her who the culprit was.
I did that.
She had no memory of it.
None.
But the evidence was there, painted on his skin like a confession.
She looked away, her hands gripping the blanket.
Alexander had moved from the bed to a chair by the window.
He sat with his legs crossed, relaxed, watching her like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve.
“I can’t remember what happened last night,” Alyssa said, her voice quiet.
“But I’m pretty sure this room is mine.”
Alexander’s lips twitched.
“Is it?”
She looked around.
Really looked this time.
The room was enormous.
The ceiling was high, adorned with crown molding.
The furniture was dark wood and velvet.
The chandelier above her was real crystal, not glass.
The view from the window showed the city skyline, sprawling and glittering in the morning light.
This is a penthouse suite.
Her stomach dropped.
She couldn’t afford this room.
Not in a hundred years.
Her budget was a standard single, maybe a double if she stretched.
This was…
this was obscene.
Her confidence crumbled.
“I think we can forget about this,” she said, her voice small.
She bowed her head, unable to meet his eyes.
“We can go our separate ways. We’re even now, right?”
She had been talking to him so confidently before.
Demanding answers.
Snapping at him.
But now, sitting in a bed that cost more than her monthly rent, she felt small.
Foolish.
Alexander watched her.
The shift in her demeanor was fascinating.
One moment she was a storm, fierce and unyielding.
The next, she was a wilting flower, folding in on herself.
He had a thought.
A dangerous one.
His mother was already aware that he had spent the night at a hotel with a woman.
She had eyes everywhere.
By now, she was probably celebrating, planning a wedding in her head.
He needed to shut that down.
He needed a solution.
And she was sitting right in front of him.
“Marry me.”
Alyssa’s head snapped up.
“Huh?”
She stared at him, her lips parted.
Did he just say that?
Randomly?
Out of nowhere?
Alexander didn’t flinch.
He met her gaze, his expression serious.
“Be my wife for a year,” he said, his voice calm and measured.
“Bear my child. Then we get divorced. Name your price.”
Alyssa’s mind went blank.
She blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Is he serious?
She looked at him, really looked.
His grey eyes were steady.
His jaw was set.
There was no hint of a joke, no smirk playing on his lips.
He was serious.
But that means…
selling myself to a stranger.
The thought made her stomach turn.
She had always imagined marriage differently.
Love.
Romance.
A white dress and a happy ending.
Not a contract nor a transaction.
But then she thought of her father.
His debt.
Her exhausted mother.
The endless calls from collectors.
The letters threatening to take their home.
She had been working two jobs, barely scraping by, and it still wasn’t enough.
It would take years to pay off what he owed.
Years of exhaustion, of sacrifice, of watching her family crumble.
And she wasn’t a virgin anymore.
The man in front of her had taken that last night.
She didn’t remember it, but the blood on the sheets was proof enough.
What difference does it make now?
She bit her lip, her thoughts racing.
“Name your price,” Alexander repeated.
“Whatever you need. It’s yours.”
Alyssa looked at him.
At his sharp jaw and stormy eyes.
At the marks on his neck that she had put there.
Can I really do this?
She didn’t know.
But she also didn’t know if she had a choice.