Alonso’s voice was icy, his words cutting through the tension in the room. “You don’t need a reminder of why you’re here. That should always be clear in your mind.” Skyla clenched her fists, her chest tightening with a mix of anger and sadness. “I know,” she replied, her voice trembling but firm. The weight of his words and the truth behind them pressed heavily on her heart. Skyla Parker, a free-spirited artist with dreams of opening her own gallery, is forced into an arranged marriage with Alonso Ignacio, a wealthy but emotionally closed-off investor, by her father,Vincent parker ,a greedy struggling businessman, to save his failing business. Threatened with disownment if she refuses, Skyla reluctantly agrees. Alonso, who views love as a weakness and the marriage as a purely transactional deal, agrees to the union to secure a lucrative business partnership and to provide a mother figure for his young son. Despite their initial resentment and clashing personalities, their cold arrangement begins to thaw as they spend more time together. Skyla and Alonso discover the unexpected moments of vulnerability and passion., But when Vincent’s manipulations threaten to tear them apart, they must decide: will their marriage remain a business deal, or will they risk everything for a love that could heal their broken hearts?
View MoreAlonso's pov“I want Skyla to take me to school!” Alejandro’s voice echoed through the hallway, loud and insistent,pulling me from my thoughts.I paused, adjusting the cuff of my shirt, the morning light casting long shadows across the marble floor. The household buzzed with its usual efficiency, but this request was unexpected."You have a driver," I reminded him, keeping my tone even."But I want her," he insisted, his dark eyes wide and unwavering. His backpack, slightly too large for his small frame, slipped off one shoulder.Skyla stood just behind him, a faint crease forming between her brows, uncertain whether to intervene or remain silent."It's fine," she said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't mind taking him if that's what he wants."My voice remained measured. "It's unnecessary."Alejandro's lower lip pushed forward in a pout. "But I want Skyla to come with me," he pressed, tugging gently at her hand.I studied them both. Alejandro rarely deviated f
Alonso's povI loosened my tie and settled back in the leather chair, the weight of the day pressing against the edges of my patience. The office was quiet now ,just the faint hum of the city beyond the window and the distant click of Miguel’s keyboard outside. I welcomed the silence. It gave me space to think, to control the chaos before it became a problem. Most would find the silence unsettling. I found it necessary. It allowed me to think clearly, to keep everything in line.The phone on my desk buzzed, the name flashing across the screen. Mamá.I sighed before answering. "Mamá.""Alonso," her voice was warm and familiar, like the scent of lavender in the summer air. "Estaba empezando a pensar que te habías olvidado de mí." (I was starting to think you’d forgotten me.)"I’ve been busy," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "You know how things are.""Siempre estás ocupado," (You’re always busy,) she said softly, the hint of a sigh beneath her words. "Pero nunca demasiado ocupado para
Alonso's pov "These numbers aren't matching the projections," I said, my tone clipped as I leaned back in my leather chair. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind me cast long shadows across the sleek lines of my office. Barcelona’s skyline stretched beyond the glass, a city teeming with life, in sharp contrast to the cold precision within these walls. Carlos stood at the edge of my desk, arms folded as he scanned the quarterly report. "The Serrano project’s delays are eating into the margins. If the suppliers don’t align by the end of the month, we’ll take a hit." I tightened my jaw. "Then make them align. I don’t tolerate inefficiency." My voice remained calm, measured but irritation simmered beneath the surface. I had no patience for carelessness. Not in my business. Not in my home. Control was everything. Without it, things fell apart and I didn’t let things fall apart. Carlos raised an eyebrow, but whatever amusement he found in my reaction didn’t reach his voice. "I’ll han
Skyla's pov“You can’t hide forever, you know.”Emma’s voice cuts through the quiet of my bedroom, her tone light and teasing. I shift against the silk sheets, pressing my phone closer to my ear while staring at the ceiling. Morning sunlight spills through the oversized windows, casting a golden glow across the room. It’s a beautiful prison, but a prison all the same.“I’m not hiding,” I mutter, though the words ring hollow even to me.“Sure,” she says, dragging the word out. “Because spending your days locked up in a mansion with a ridiculously hot billionaire and his adorable nephew screams ‘freedom.’”I roll my eyes, a faint smile tugging at my lips despite the ache in my chest. “It’s not like that, Em.”“Mmm-hmm.” There’s a pause before she adds, “And yet you’re still there. What’s going on, Sky?”I push myself upright, pulling my knees to my chest. Nothing in this house feels real, least of all me.“I don’t know,” I admit quietly. “Everything here feels… off. Like I’m walking on
Skyla's pov The next morning I twist the cap off my water bottle, taking a long sip as I wipe a bead of sweat from my brow. The gym is tucked away on the far side of the house, a sleek, glass-walled room with polished wooden floors and enough state of the art equipment to rival a professional fitness center. It’s too pristine, too impersonal, but it’s a welcome distraction from the silence I’ve grown used to. Since I arrived, Alonso has barely spoken to me. Conversations feel one-sided , I ask questions; he answers with the bare minimum. The house itself mirrors his personality immaculate, controlled, and distant. Every room feels like a showroom rather than a home, and I wonder if anyone has ever truly lived here. At least the gym gives me something to do. A shred of normalcy. I settle onto the mat, easing into a stretch. The tightness in my muscles is a familiar ache, one that soothes my restless thoughts. Working out has always been my escape, a way to clear my mind when l
Skyla's pov “You’re doing it wrong.” I blink, glancing up from the puzzle pieces scattered across the living room floor. Alejandro stands across from me, his small face scrunched in disapproval. His curls bounce as he steps closer, pointing an accusing finger at the mismatched pieces in my hand. “I am?” I ask, tilting my head. “Looks pretty close to me.” He huffs, crouching beside me with the fierce determination only a four-year-old can muster. “That’s the sky. It doesn’t go with the boat.” “Well,” I drawl, holding out the two pieces, “they’re both blue. It’s an easy mistake.” Alejandro shakes his head, plucking the pieces from my fingers and replacing them with expert precision. His small hands move quickly, and within seconds, the jagged edges slide into place perfectly. “See?” he says, shooting me a triumphant look. I bite back a smile. “Okay, puzzle master, you win.” For the first time since I arrived, Alejandro giggles a soft, bright sound that breaks through the cold w
Skyla's pov The next morning, the house is quiet. Too quiet. I linger in bed longer than I should, staring at the ceiling as sunlight spills through the heavy curtains. For a moment, I let myself pretend this is normal, like I’m waking up in a life I chose. But reality presses down on me like a weight. I’m married to a man who barely looks at me. Sighing, I slip out of bed, the cool marble floor sending a shiver up my spine. My reflection in the mirror catches my attention, a reminder of how much my life has changed overnight. The delicate silk nightgown clings to my frame, its elegance foreign to me. I was used to threadbare pajamas and Emma’s teasing about my mismatched socks, not luxury tailored to fit a stranger’s world. I wrap myself in a soft cardigan, the fabric heavy against my skin, and step into the hallway. The silence feels more suffocating today, thick with words unsaid and questions I’m too afraid to ask. The kitchen is empty when I reach it. No bustling cook
Skyla's povEverything in this house is too perfect too precise. A house built by a man who doesn’t let things slip. Nothing feels warm, and I wonder if it ever has.I sink into the plush armchair by the window, curling my knees to my chest. My wedding dress feels like a distant memory, but the ache behind my ribs lingers. I should be relieved that Alonso didn’t try to kiss me during the ceremony. But somehow, that cold brush of his lips against my cheek stung more.What did I expect? Passion? Tenderness?I let out a bitter laugh.No, this is a business arrangement. Nothing more. And yet, a small, foolish part of me keeps wondering if there’s something beneath that polished, unreadable exterior. If there’s a man capable of softness.I shouldn’t care.But I do.A faint sound drifts from upstairs ,Alejandro’s laughter, light and airy. It’s the first warm thing I’ve felt in this house since I arrived. A reminder that this marriage isn’t just about Alonso and me. There’s a child caught in
Skyla's povThe sound of laughter pulls me from sleep. Soft, sweet, and full of life nothing like the cold silence that wrapped around me last night. For a moment, I forget where I am. The silk sheets beneath my fingertips, the faint scent of salt drifting through the open balcony doors ,it all feels too foreign.And then it hits me.I’m married. To a man who barely looks at me. In a house that doesn’t feel like mine.The ache I buried last night pushes to the surface, but the sound of another giggle breaks through it. I slip out of bed, wrapping a robe around myself as I follow the noise.The hallway is quiet, sunlight spilling in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting golden streaks along the polished wood. The house feels too big, too still, like it was never meant to hold real warmth. But as I draw closer to the grand staircase, the soft sound of tiny footsteps fills the air.At the bottom of the stairs, Alejandro stands with Ana, his small face lit with joy as he spins in
Skyla's pov "This is the third time I am being forced to watch “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before this month." Emily groans dramatically, tossing a kernel of popcorn into her mouth. "And?" I roll my eyes but grin. "At this point, I can recite the lines better than Lara Jean herself." "Good. That means it's working," she says, pointing at me with a smug expression. "I’m trying to drill it into your head that love isn’t dead." I snort. "In real life? It’s on life support." Emily gasps in mock offense, pressing a hand to her chest. "That’s blasphemy. You live in Barcelona, the city of passion and romance! How can you say that?" I glance at my untouched canvas, the blank space mirroring the dull ache in my chest. "Because movies have happy endings. Life doesn’t." The air shifts between us, the easy banter fading into silence. Emily doesn’t push, but I know she’s thinking the same thing I am. Since I left him. The vibration of my phone breaks the moment. I glance at the screen, ...
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