Chapter 6

The hotel’s grand ballroom buzzed with my father’s business associates, gathered for my birthday celebration. After countless toasts and social niceties, my feet aching in my Louboutins, I escaped to the quiet sanctuary of my suite. I’d barely settled into the plush bed when I heard movement in the ensuite bathroom. My heart leaped.

“Hello?”

Silence. Curiosity overcoming caution, I approached the door. Suddenly, I was pulled inside, a startled gasp dying on my lips as I found myself pressed against cool marble by a very wet, very masculine form. His eyes, struggling to focus, studied my face intently before he breathed my name. “Aveline Blackwood?”

I managed a small nod, hypnotized by the droplets trailing down his sharp jawline. He released his grip, only to sway against me, his expensive suit soaked through.

“What a coincidence,” he murmured, his accent a cultured blend of British and something else. “I’m your arranged fiancé. Mind doing me a favor?”

“I… what?” I caught myself. “How do I know you’re really…?”

A low chuckle warmed my neck. “Cautious. Good. Check my wallet, phone—verify with anyone you like.”

I steadied him enough to retrieve his wallet. The ID confirmed it—Alexander Sterling, my mysterious husband-to-be.

“Are you ill?” I studied him properly now—tall, elegant features, pale skin that spoke of good breeding. If he wasn’t nearly fainting, I’d barely reach his chin.

“Drugged,” he managed. “Business… rivals.”

“What?”

My step toward the door halted as his long fingers circled my wrist. In one fluid motion, he pulled me toward the bed.

“Too late to run,” he murmured, tumbling us both onto the bed. “If you’re not planning to break our arrangement,” his voice was silk over steel, “perhaps you could help me through this?”

I froze. Yes, I’d accepted this marriage, but to be so intimate with a stranger, even my fiancé…

“Good girl,” he breathed, mistaking my silence for consent. Before I could process another thought, his lips found mine.

Two hours later, I sat on the edge of the bed, my wrists tender, face flushed. The perpetrator of my current state was already sound asleep, looking far too innocent for what he’d just done.

Asshole!

I grabbed a pillow, contemplating revenge, when a knock interrupted my murderous thoughts.

“Alex?” William’s voice carried through the door. Before I could respond, Alexander’s stony eyes snapped open, using the bed to drag himself upright. William’s eyes darted between us, widening considerably.

“Christ, I wanted you two to get married,” he said, his voice strained. “You can’t…”

“Oh, shut it,” Alexander groaned, collapsing back onto the bed with a weak sigh.

“Holy shit!” William’s protective instincts flared. “What the hell did you do to my sister?” His ears were turning red. “Engaged or not, you should excuse this—this is not how a gentleman behaves.”

I jumped between them before William could commit murder. “Will, it’s not what you think.”

“Then what exactly is it?” His face was almost as red as mine.

I shifted uncomfortably. True, we hadn’t gone that far, but what we had done was hardly proper first-meeting behavior, either. How could I explain this to my overprotective brother?

Alexander saved me from answering. “You know about my family’s situation,” he said, his aristocratic voice strained. “Someone drugged my drink. I didn’t have many options.”

William’s scowl softened slightly, though his jaw remained tight.