Chapter 2:  Contract

In the lavish library of the Peterson mansion, Alexander Steele was sitting down, skillfully swirling the amber-coloured liquid in his glass. The gathering continued in the large ballroom, while Alexander found solace in the calm library, away from the excessive presence of guess. His image as the merciless head of Steele Enterprises came before him, and tonight was no exception. Everywhere he looked, he sensed insincere smiles, the tactful strategies of people trying to win his approval or form alliances. His needs were far greater and far more desperate.

The terms of his late father’s will were clear: to secure control of Steele Enterprises, Alexander had to be married within three months. Failure to comply meant the company would fall to his cunning and manipulative uncle, Richard Steele, a man Alexander despised. Richard had spent years scheming to undermine Alexander’s authority, waiting for this moment to seize power.

Alexander refused to let that happen. The company was his life’s work, his identity, and the legacy he had promised to protect. But time was running out. The pressure of finding a suitable wife for marriage that had to appear genuine to withstand scrutiny was mounting. The very idea of marrying for business rather than love disgusted him, but Alexander knew sentiment had no place in his world.

Though Clara had moved on to what was bothering him, all he needed was a woman desperate enough to agree to his terms and strong enough to handle the storm that comes with being Mrs Steele. Although Clara's motives were selfish, Alexander was unconcerned. He required a quick solution to his problem.

His thoughts were interrupted as the door creaked open. Clara stepped inside, her scarlet gown sprawling behind her like blood on the marble floor, behind her stood Isabella her cousin.

Alexander’s gaze settled on Isabella, taking in her simple dress and the determined tilt of her chin. She was nothing but the polished, power-hungry socialites he was used to. Her presence was unexpected.

“This is Isabella,” Clara announced with a smirk. “My cousin.”

Isabella advanced, her gaze narrowing as she locked eyes with Alexander. She kept her gaze steady, unfazed by his close observation.

"Miss Moore," Alexander said, speaking in a controlled tone. "Do you understand what is being suggested?"

"Isabella replied, her voice steady despite the tension in the room, saying, "I am." Acting like she has no choice in this. Sensing it is a straightforward manipulation.

Clara laughed softly while enjoying her champagne. "Don't overreact, Isabella."You need money. Alexander needs a wife and someone to beacon on in his empire. It’s a fair trade.”

Alexander’s jaw tightened. He hated Clara’s flippant tone, but she wasn’t wrong. He turned to Isabella, curious about her reaction.

“And what do you need the money for?” Alexander asked.

“My mother,” Isabella said without wavering. “She’s sick. The medical expenses are increasing. I am willing to do anything necessary to rescue her.”

The raw honesty in her voice struck a chord in Alexander. This wasn’t just desperation; it was resolve.

“And you, Mr. Steele?” Isabella continued, her gaze unwavering. “Why do you need this arrangement?”

For a moment, Alexander considered lying. But something about Isabella made him want to be honest.

“My company,” he admitted. “I need to secure my legacy to protect it from someone who would destroy everything Father has built.”

Isabella studied him, her expression unreadable. “So, this is purely transactional for both of us.”

“Precisely,” Alexander said. “You get the money you need, and I get the stability required to keep my company. No emotions. No complications.”

“No freedom either,” Isabella countered.

“You’ll have more freedom than you do now,” Alexander said, his tone sharp. “Unless you have a better plan to save your mother?”

The atmosphere in the room was tense. Clara, showing obvious delight in the performance, rested against a bookshelf with a contented grin.

She said, "Both of you are a perfect match." “Now, try and get the deal sealed.” Laughing.

Alexander shot her a glare that silenced her laughter, then turned back to Isabella.

“I won’t force you,” he said. “The choice is yours. Be aware that by agreeing, you are entering my realm. It's harsh, fiercely competitive, and unforgiving. Can you handle that?”

Isabella hesitated, the weight of her decision evident in her expression. For a moment, Alexander thought she might walk away. She then raised her chin and her eyes shone with resolve.

"I'm able to manage it," she firmly stated.

“Good,” Alexander said, extending his hand. “Then we have an agreement.”

But as Isabella reached out to shake his hand, the door burst open, and Richard Steele strode in, his presence commanding and his expression smug.

“Well, well,” Richard drawled, his eyes flicking between Alexander and Isabella. “Is this your brilliant plan, nephew? Marrying A-nobody to save your empire?”

Alexander’s fist clenched at his side. “What are you doing here, Richard?”

“Observing,” Richard said with a smirk. “Do you think I would allow you to go through with this deception without getting involved?”

Isabella glanced back and forth at the two men, intrigued by her curiosity. This was more than just a dispute within a family. This constituted a war.

Richard looked at Isabella with a critical and patronizing expression. "And do you believe you can portray as Mrs. Steele, my dear?" Do you have any understanding of what you're getting yourself into?”

Isabella squared her shoulders. “I think you’re underestimating me, Sir.”

Richard laughed, a cold, menacing sound. “We’ll see about that. But mark my words, Alexander. You won’t win this.”

As Richard left, the tension in the room was suffocating. Alexander turned to Isabella, his expression hard.

“This changes nothing,” he said. “We move forward as planned.”

However, Isabella couldn't rid herself of the sense that she had just entered a battleground where every action would be a struggle to stay alive.