Cold Vows

Isabella's hands trembled as she stared at her reflection in the floor-length mirror. The wedding dress, a sleek Vera Wang creation of ivory silk that hugged her curves before cascading to the floor was breathtaking. Yet it felt more like armor than celebration attire. Her dark hair was swept into an elegant updo, tiny diamonds catching the light with each subtle movement. Her heart beat like a war drum in her chest, thundering with dread and anticipation.

The off-shoulder sleeves bared her collarbones, and the lace bodice shimmered with crystals sewn by hand. A long veil, sheer, and hauntingly delicate was pinned to her soft curls, giving her the look of a princess.

But she didn’t feel like one.

"You look beautiful," came a soft voice from the doorway.

Isabella met her father's eyes in the mirror. Antonio Martinez stood uncertainly at the threshold, his once-commanding presence diminished by years of stress and the knowledge of what today truly represented.

"Is that what matters today?" she asked quietly. "Beauty?"

Antonio crossed the room to stand behind her. His hands settled on her shoulders, weathered and familiar. "No," he admitted. "But I wish it could be."

She turned to face him, searching his careworn face. "Did you know? When Alexander approached you about this arrangement did you understand what really motivated him?"

Her father's eyes clouded. "I suspected. Kane never forgave what happened with Victoria and Marcus. The contracts she falsified, the intellectual property she stole, the cause of Marcus death...."

"The contracts “you” authorized," Isabella corrected gently. "The theft “you” overlooked because you let your greedy get a better part of you.” She was angry but didn’t want to sound bitter to her father, he is the only parent she has.

Antonio flinched. "Yes. My greatest mistake. One you're paying for."

"I made my choice," she reminded him. "Because I love you, not because I blame you."

"And now you're marrying a man who wants revenge against our family." Antonio's voice broke. "I should never have agreed to this."

"It's more complicated than that now." Isabella smoothed her father's tie, a gesture of comfort she'd performed countless times since childhood. "Alexander is... not exactly what I expected."

"What do you mean?"

"He's—" she hesitated, unsure how to explain the glimpses of vulnerability she'd witnessed, the unexpected tenderness, the charged moments of connection that seemed to surprise Alexander as much as her. "There's more to him than his vendetta."

Antonio regarded her with sudden alarm. "Isabella, you haven't developed feelings for him, have you?"

The question hung in the air between them. Isabella turned back to the mirror, avoiding her father's gaze. "What I feel doesn't matter. This is a business arrangement, nothing more."

"You were always a terrible liar," Antonio said softly. He reached for her hand. "If you want to back out, we can still—"

"No." Isabella cut him off firmly. "The agreements are signed. The countless employees who would lose their jobs, my mother’s legacy, the Martinez Holdings restructuring—all of it depends on this marriage." She squeezed his hand. "I won't jeopardize everything we've worked for."

A knock at the door interrupted them. Diana Reeves entered, elegant in a navy sheath dress, her silver bob immaculate. "Five minutes, Ms. Martinez."

"Thank you, Diana." Isabella nodded, grateful for the woman's calm efficiency. Over the past two days, Alexander's chief of staff had proven unexpectedly supportive, handling wedding arrangements with remarkable discretion and consideration.

When Diana withdrew, Antonio pulled something from his pocket, a delicate sapphire bracelet. "This was your mother's," he said, voice thick with emotion. "She wore it at our wedding."

Isabella's throat tightened as he fastened it around her wrist. "She always said it brought her luck."

"She would be proud of you," Antonio said. "And heartbroken about the circumstances."

"Then let's not disappoint her on either count." Isabella straightened her shoulders. "We'll hold our heads high and show Alexander Kane that the Martinez family faces challenges with dignity."

Antonio offered his arm. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

The rooftop garden of Kane Tower had been transformed for the occasion. White orchids and crystalline sculptures dotted the space, creating an atmosphere of ethereal elegance against the Manhattan skyline. Only forty guests were present—a carefully curated mix of business associates and the few people Alexander and Isabella considered friends.

The wind whipped around the skyscraper as Isabella took her father's arm and began the walk down the aisle. She focused on placing one foot in front of the other, refusing to be intimidated by the critical gazes following her progress.

At the end of the aisle stood Alexander, resplendent in a black tuxedo that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the lean strength of his frame, his gray hair glittering under the sun like a silver lining in the sky, his lips pressed together to create a fine like across his face. His face was a mask of cool indifference, betraying nothing of their conversation two nights before or the charged atmosphere that had hung between them since.

When their eyes met, something flashed in his expression so briefly Isabella wondered if she'd imagined it. Then his gaze hardened again, that familiar wall slamming back into place but she paid no mind to it, this was the arrangement, expecting something different would be setting herself up for hurt.

Her father squeezed her arm, a silent gesture of support as they reached the end of the aisle. When the officiant asked, "Who gives this woman to be married?" Antonio's voice was steady, but strained "I do," he said, then pressed a kiss to Isabella's cheek before placing her hand in Alexander's.

Alexander's fingers closed around hers, his touch impersonal, almost clinical. Where she had grown accustomed to the warmth of his skin against hers, now there was only cold formality.

"Dearly beloved," the officiant began, "we are gathered here today to witness the union of Alexander Kane and Isabella Martinez in holy matrimony."

Isabella tried to focus on the words, but her attention kept returning to Alexander's profile. He stood rigidly beside her, his jaw set in a hard line, his eyes stared ahead like they were burring holes in the wind, he looked wickedly handsome and she couldn’t believe how old he really was. If anyone had doubted the business nature of their arrangement, his demeanor made it unmistakably clear.

When the time came for their vows, Alexander turned to face her. His eyes, usually so expressive in private, were deliberately empty as he recited the traditional promises with mechanical precision.

"I, Alexander, take you, Isabella, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."

Not a single muscle in his face betrayed emotion. His words were perfect, his delivery flawless, and entirely devoid of feeling. Each syllable struck Isabella like a physical blow. This was Alexander as the world knew him—The Executioner, cold and calculating, who viewed their marriage as nothing more than the final move in his years-long chess game against her family.

When it was Isabella's turn, she had to force the words past the tightness in her throat. "I, Isabella, take you, Alexander..." She faltered briefly, remembering his whispered confession from two nights before. “Break both our hearts.”

She found her voice again, finishing her vows with more strength than she felt. If he could play this role so convincingly, so could she.

"The rings, please," the officiant prompted.

Alexander's best man James Sullivan, his attorney stepped forward with the rings. Isabella noticed the slight narrowing of Alexander's eyes when Sullivan handed him the platinum band. There was history there, something tense and unspoken.

Alexander took her left hand, sliding the diamond-encrusted band onto her finger with clinical detachment. "With this ring, I thee wed."

Isabella accepted his ring from Sullivan, noting how the simple platinum band seemed to weigh much more than it should. As she placed it on Alexander's finger, she searched his face for any sign of the man she'd glimpsed behind closed doors the man who'd held her through nightmares, who'd confessed his vulnerabilities in the darkness of night, the man who was scared of his feelings for her, a man who loved to tease her.

There was nothing. Only the cold, impenetrable mask of Alexander Kane, CEO.

"By the power vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife," the officiant declared. "You may kiss the bride."

Alexander's hand came up to curve around her waist, drawing her toward him with practiced ease. His other hand tilted her chin up as he lowered his head. His lips brushed against hers in what appeared to onlookers as a proper wedding kiss but Isabella felt its emptiness. Where their previous kiss had burned with passion or tenderness, this was merely performance.

When they turned to face their guests, his arm remained around her waist. To anyone watching, they were the picture of matrimonial bliss, the powerful CEO and his beautiful bride. Only Isabella could feel the rigid tension in his body, the careful distance he maintained even in physical contact.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the officiant announced, "I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Kane."

Polite applause followed as Alexander guided her down the aisle with a proprietary hand at the small of her back. His smile was perfect, practiced, and never reached his eyes.

As they entered the elevator that would take them to the reception on a lower floor, Alexander finally dropped his hand from her back. The small space felt cavernous with the distance he placed between them.

"You played your part well," he said, voice clipped.

Isabella stared at the elevator's descending numbers. "As did you." Irritation crawled through her skin.

"The papers will be pleased with their photo opportunities. The business world will be satisfied with the narrative." He straightened his already impeccable tie. "Everything according to plan."

"Is that what this is to you now?" she asked quietly. "Just the plan?"

His eyes met hers in the mirrored wall, glacial and remote. "This is what it's always been, Isabella. Don't confuse temporary vulnerability with deviation from purpose."

The elevator doors opened before she could respond, revealing the elegantly appointed reception space where their guests were beginning to gather. Alexander offered his arm, a gesture for show and led her into the room.

The reception proceeded with militaristic precision. They moved among their guests like perfectly coordinated dancers, accepting congratulations with practiced smiles. Alexander kept her close, his hand occasionally brushing her back or arm in gestures that would appear affectionate to observers but felt hollow to Isabella.

When her father approached for the traditional father daughter dance, Alexander relinquished her with cool politeness.

"Are you okay?" Antonio whispered as they moved across the dance floor.

Isabella maintained her smile. "I'm fine."

"He's treating you like a stranger."

"That's what we are," she replied, the words tasting bitter. "Strangers who made a deal."

Antonio's expression darkened. "If he hurts you—"

"He won't," Isabella assured him, though uncertainty gnawed at her. The Alexander who had emerged today was the man she had initially feared the ruthless businessman who had orchestrated this entire arrangement as the culmination of his revenge.

When the dance ended, Alexander smoothly reclaimed her, leading her into their first dance as husband and wife. His hand at her waist was firm but impersonal, maintaining precisely the appropriate distance as they moved to the music.

"Everyone is watching," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear despite the frost in his voice. "You should look at me like you're in love." She winced at the word “love” but she looked up at him, meeting his gaze, allowing all her confusion and hurt to surface. “ Is this what you wanted?” She asked feeling a grueling pain in her tummy. “This cold and unreal performance?”

Something flashed across his eyes, frustration, perhaps, or anger, before disappearing beneath his practiced veneer. "What I want doesn't matter. What matters is completing what I started."

"And what exactly did you start, Alexander?" She kept her voice low, mindful of watching eyes. "Revenge against my father? Or something you didn't anticipate?"

His fingers tightened fractionally on her waist. "Don't mistake a physical attraction for emotional investment, Isabella. I've been transparent about my intentions from the beginning." He mumbled

"Have you?" She challenged, remembering his words from two nights ago words that had kept her awake, hoping against hope. "Then why tell me I could break your heart?" She wanted answers but they were not forthcoming.

The music ended before he could answer. Alexander stepped back, his mask firmly in place once more as he led her to where Kenji Nakamura waited with congratulations.

"Kane-san, Martinez-san—or should I say Kane-san and Kane-san now?" Kenji offered a small bow. "A beautiful ceremony."

"Thank you," Alexander replied with perfunctory politeness. "We're pleased you could attend, especially in the midst of negotiations."

"I wouldn't miss it." Kenji's gaze lingered on Isabella. "Though I confess surprise at the timing. Most men in your position would postpone personal matters until after such a significant deal."

"My husband has always excelled at balancing priorities," Isabella interjected smoothly, refusing to let Alexander's coldness affect her public performance. "It's one of his many talents."

Kenji's eyebrows rose slightly at her pointed use of "husband." "Indeed. And what are your plans now, Mrs. Kane? Will you be joining Kane Industries in an official capacity?"

Before she could answer, Alexander spoke. "My wife has considerable talents of her own. Whether she chooses to apply them to Kane Industries or elsewhere is entirely her decision." His voice laced with something she couldn’t place.

The possessive "my wife" jarred against his earlier coldness. Isabella studied him, trying to reconcile the contradictions.

"How progressive," Kenji remarked, his tone suggesting he found it anything but. "In Japan, traditionally, a wife supports her husband's endeavors."

"In America," Isabella countered with a serene smile, "a husband and wife support each other as equals. Isn't that right, darling?"

Alexander's eyes met hers, something unreadable lingered in their depths. "Absolutely," he agreed, his arm sliding around her waist in a gesture that felt less performative than before.

When Kenji excused himself, Alexander leaned close. "Well played."

"I told you I'm good at pretending," she replied, the words more bitter than she'd intended.

His jaw tightened. "Isabella—"

"Mr. Kane." James Sullivan approached, interrupting whatever Alexander had been about to say. "The elder Nakamura is asking about the projected timeline for the merger. Perhaps we should discuss it now?"

Alexander hesitated, his gaze lingering on Isabella's face. "Can it wait?"

"I'm afraid not," Sullivan insisted. "He's concerned about some of the clauses we discussed yesterday."

With obvious reluctance, Alexander turned to Isabella. "Will you excuse me? This won't take long."

"Of course," she said with practiced grace. "I should mingle with our guests anyway."

As Alexander walked away with Sullivan, Isabella noticed Diana watching from across the room, her expression troubled. The chief of staff approached, offering a flute of champagne.

"You're handling this admirably," Diana said quietly.

Isabella accepted the drink gratefully. "Handling what?"

Diana's gaze was knowing. "Alexander in full armor. I haven't seen him this closed off in years."

"Is that unusual?" Isabella asked, surprised by the woman's candor.

"Recently? Yes." Diana sipped her champagne. "Since you entered his life, he's been... different. Less guarded with the staff. Almost human."

Isabella's heart constricted. "Not today."

"No," Diana agreed. "Today he's retreated completely." She hesitated. "Something happened, didn't it? Between the two of you."

Isabella studied the bubbles rising in her champagne. "I thought so. Apparently I was wrong."

Diana's expression softened with unexpected sympathy. "Alexander doesn't know how to be vulnerable without feeling threatened. When Marcus died years ago—"

"Marcus?" Isabella interrupted. "His brother?"

Diana's eyes widened slightly. "He hasn't told you."

"Told me what?" Curious to hear more about it

The older woman seemed to choose her words carefully. "It's not my place to share Alexander's history. But perhaps you should ask him about how Marcus really died and why he chose your step sister for a wife before she eloped and letting you take her place and why James Sullivan being his best man today is particularly ironic." She hesitated before adding, "And you might want to know why Alexander insisted on having your father's research division included in the marriage contract."

Before Isabella could press for more information, Alexander returned, his expression thunderous despite his carefully maintained composure. "Sullivan's handling the Nakamuras," he said tersely. "We need to make our rounds before dinner."

Diana retreated with a meaningful glance at Isabella.

"Is everything alright?" Isabella asked as Alexander guided her toward a group of board members, the conversation with Diana lingering in her mind.

"Fine," he replied curtly. "Sullivan's being difficult about the Nakamura terms, that's all."

Isabella studied his profile. "And that's why you look like you want to throw him off the roof?"

A muscle ticked in Alexander's jaw. "My personal history with Sullivan is complicated."

"So I gathered," she said carefully. "Diana mentioned something about Sullivan's connection to Kane Industries."

Alexander stopped abruptly, his hand tightening around hers. "Diana had no right to discuss that with you."

"She didn't discuss anything. She merely suggested I ask you about it." Isabella met his gaze steadily. "So I'm asking. What really happened between Marcus and my step sister? What does it really have to do with your vendetta against my family? What’s the relationship with the Sullivan’s connection to all of these?” The questions were endless with no answers and it drove her crazy.

For a moment, something raw and vulnerable flashed in Alexander's eyes pain so intense it took her breath away. Then, like a steel door slamming shut, his expression closed again.

"Not here," he said, voice low and controlled. "Not today."

"Then when?" she pressed. "You married me, Alexander. Don't I deserve to know the whole truth about why?"

Before he could answer, the wedding planner approached, informing them it was time for dinner. Alexander nodded curtly, placing his hand at the small of Isabella's back to guide her toward the head table. The gesture was proprietary, impersonal, a reminder of their arrangement rather than an expression of affection.

As they took their seats, Isabella surveyed the elegant reception. Everyone was smiling, drinking, celebrating a union they believed was founded on love. Only she and Alexander knew the truth—or at least, part of it. There were still secrets between them, shadows that needed illumination.

Throughout dinner, Alexander maintained his facade of the devoted groom. He kept her wine glass filled, occasionally leaned close to whisper observations about guests, and even managed to laugh at the best man's toast. To anyone watching, they appeared the perfect couple, the powerful, ruthless CEO and his elegant, young bride, embarking on a life together.

But Isabella felt the chill emanating from him, the calculated distance in each seemingly intimate gesture. This was Alexander Kane as she had first known him cold, controlled, and utterly focused on his objectives. The man who had held her through nightmares, who had confessed his fears in darkness, who had whispered that she could break his heart—that man was nowhere to be found.

When it came time for him to make his speech, Alexander stood, glass in hand. The room quieted as he surveyed the gathered guests.

"Thank you all for joining us today," he began, his voice carrying effortlessly across the space. "In business, I'm known for my direct approach, so I'll be brief."

A ripple of knowing laughter moved through the crowd.

"When Isabella first came into my life, I thought I understood exactly what I wanted." His gaze shifted to her, something unreadable in his eyes. "I was wrong."

Isabella's breath caught as the room fell silent.

"What I discovered," Alexander continued, his voice betraying no emotion despite his words, "was that some acquisitions come with unexpected value. Isabella has a remarkable talent for seeing beyond surfaces, for challenging assumptions, including my own."

He raised his glass. "To my wife, who reminds me that even the most carefully constructed plans sometimes yield... unanticipated results."

The guests applauded as Alexander sat down beside her. Isabella's heart raced with confusion. His words suggested something beyond their business arrangement, yet his demeanor remained glacial.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Playing my part," he replied, lifting her hand to his lips in a gesture that would appear romantic to observers. His eyes, however, remained distant. "As should you."

The cake cutting proceeded with the same choreographed precision as every other aspect of the reception. They smiled for photographs, fed each other cake with practiced coordination, and accepted congratulations with gracious nods.

By the time they prepared to depart for the honeymoon, a two-week stay at Alexander's private island that was more business retreat than romantic getaway, Isabella felt exhausted from maintaining the charade.

As they said goodbye to the remaining guests, her father pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Remember who you are," he whispered fiercely. "A Martinez. Strong enough to face whatever comes."

"I know, Papa." She fought back tears, refusing to break character even now.

Alexander shook Antonio's hand with cool courtesy. "I'll take care of her," he said, the promise sounding more like a business guarantee than a heartfelt vow.

Antonio's eyes were hard as he met Alexander's gaze. "See that you do."

In the limousine that would take them to the helipad where Alexander's private helicopter waited, Isabella finally allowed her performance to slip. She kicked off her uncomfortable heels and leaned her head against the cool window, watching Manhattan's lights blur in the darkness.

Alexander sat opposite her, loosening his tie with methodical movements. The space between them felt vast and unbridgeable.

"You played your role perfectly," he said finally, breaking the silence. "The guests were convinced."

Isabella didn't look at him. "And the Nakamuras?"

"Kenji remains suspicious, but his father seems to approve of you." Alexander's voice was detached, analytical. "The merger will proceed as planned."

"Wonderful," she said flatly. "Another successful business transaction."

Alexander was quiet for a long moment. "You're angry."

"Should I be celebrating?" she asked, finally turning to face him. "Today I married a man who treated me like a stranger, worse, like an asset to be managed."

His expression remained impassive. "I treated you exactly as our arrangement dictated."

"Is that why you couldn't even look at me during our vows? Why your kiss felt like a business handshake?" She leaned forward, searching his face for any sign of the man she'd glimpsed in private moments. "What happened to the Alexander who teased me during dates? Who told me I could break his heart?"

Something flashed in his eyes, his face expression had a little change like a brief crack in his armor before disappearing. "That was a momentary lapse in judgment," he said coldly. "A mistake I won't repeat."

The words struck like physical blows. Isabella recoiled, wrapping her arms around herself. "At least now I know where we stand."

"Yes," he agreed, his voice devoid of emotion. "Now we both do."

As the limousine carried them through the night, Isabella realized with painful clarity that her father had been right to worry. Perhaps Alexander Kane wouldn't harm her physically, but in every other way that mattered, the damage was already done.

She had married The Executioner, and her heart was first on his list.