CHAPTER ONE: THE Meet

Alexander’s POV

She scooted into my office in a velvet Tea length Challis, spaghetti strap dress, classic cleavage, a little glimpse of her C-cup, not too much. Expected. Hemline grazing her mid-calf, my eyes scroll up to her wasp waist, could fit in my two hands perfectly, tempting.

My eyes shift back to her face. Her blue eyes evident, almost out of her half caste face, long sharp nose and supple lips. Kissable. Full black hair, long and tousled, shielded the sides of her face. My eyes cruise down her legs; slender, smooth, running down to a nude Suede ankle strap sandals, exposing glossy, trimmed, curved toenails. Her slender arms dangled freely at her sides. She was drop dead gorgeous, if I was into a fucking angel but I am NOT. I conclude my quick assessment of her petite frame. She’ll do. A pretty little obedient wife to continue the Clifford lineage.

One hand up, I gesture her to sit, my eyes following her footsteps, something suavy about it. Something almost appealing.

I stretch out a hand. “I’m Alexander Clifford…but you knew that already”

A smile, catastrophically beautiful, caresses her face.

“Catherine Kent”

Soft voice that could melt a stone, her fingers feel like soft gel, sliding into mine. She must be fucking fragile, I take note. Her blue eyes digging into mine, like she’s studying me. What’s in your head docile beauty?

Simon enters with the black folder; he has drawn up the contract I asked of him. Good; time to get the ball rolling.

“Miss Catherine” Simon greets, an infatuated smile takes his face. I scoff mentally. Ofcourse he’s into the fucking angel. Docile, boring beings.

“Mr. Simon” Her catastrophic smile oozes again. I tear my eyes away.

A hand out to Simon, calling for the folder he offers, I set it before us. Simon excuses. I make eye contact with the half caste angel, I channel my decade rehearsed intimidating gaze, designed to make you shrink and admit that there was a God in the room and that God, me.

“I clear my throat. “I reckon I would be needing a bride if I am to take stead of Clifford Empire”

“Her eyes raise, there’s a faint brown lining her iris. It's unique, It’s confusing, the blend of blue with highlights of brown, it’s an incredible sight. A fucking beaut.

I have gotten so good at shuffling my thoughts and my words, making sure my thoughts never out-run my words. I don’t say what I think; I say what I want.

“I figure it could be you” I go straight to the point.

Her eyes snap, her blue digging my gray. A fucking angel. Her fingers curl on the brown tuft table between us. My eyes travel and return. “Now I know you were intended for my brother Harry but you are privy to the unfortunate incident…” I try very hard to mask my pain. Harry; I am never to see him again, I am never to marvel at his brilliance or revel in his awe. My perfect brother, Damn! Death, a sucker. I push past ruffles of pain.

“So I guess it could be you”

“Why?” She coos, adoringly. So adoring. I could adore you if I were into that sort of thing but I am NOT.

“I just told you…I need to take a wife if I am to be a legitimate heir” I nearly flip. Keep your cool Alex. Keep your cool, don’t scare the angel off just yet.

“I mean…why me? You could have anyone you wanted”

“She’s peeling into my eyes, milking, cautious with her words. Don’t get passionate with me angel. I don’t care for it. My eyes are searching, debating if I have made a bloody mistake proposing to my brother’s intended. I picture Harry's fickle frown; he never knew how to hold a frown anyway, I shrug inwardly and the picture fades.

I sniff, only my irritation. Please don’t be difficult. I hate difficult.

“It doesn’t matter…you or the next angel out there. Searching for a bride can be quite a tedious task I am not cut out for….saves me the stress and you’re available” I shrug.

That’s about it angel. Don’t go thinking you’re special. No one is, except my exceptionally perfect brother, whose bride I’m about to steal. Not by choice of course. I could run away and leave the fucking empire to crumble. Was never a part of it anyway but I guess I am not that useless. I finally take one for the team, Harry. Pat me on the back will you?

She looks disappointed, poor baby. Should I have professed love? Express my incredible awe for her angelic beauty? I chuckle crudely.

“And if I said yes?” Her teeth grazed her bottom lip, unintentionally I am sure. An angel wouldn’t know seduction nor attempt it.

“Here…the contract” I shift the black folder to her, not releasing her eyes.

“Contract?” Her eyes shuffled between the folder and my eyes.

“Yes, contract; you go through it and if you say yes to the under listed terms, there will be a short arrangement, no ceremony, no announcement, just a short procession and we will be wed”

She cups up the cover of the folder with her index, slender, trimmed and charming. Damn! What a tempting finger. I swallow after mentally taking all of it into my mouth. Damn Alex, focus, don’t eye fuck the angel.

“Wait” I slam the folder shut, she freezes, her tiny neck showing tender veins. What a tiny neck, so tender, I could wrap it in my one hand and choke her while I fuck…Stop Alex! Stop eye fucking the angel!

“Have you fucked my brother?” She gasps.

“No” A tiny squeak erupts, like it was an abomination. She clearly hasn’t been fucked before.

“I was to meet him for the first time…your grandfather arranged everything” She still shuddered at just the thought of it. Innocent, fucking angel.

“Good” I certainly couldn’t run tracks, already throdded by my brother, after all we never shared anything, so why start now?. “My grandfather?” I inquire. What did she know of the formidable Arthur Clifford?

“Yes…he arranged things with my father…that’s all I know”

“Ofcourse he did” I mutter under my breath.

I am not surprised. Grandfather practically arranged every inch of Harry's life but not mine. To hell with me. Who cares? I could wed a goat and Grandpa wouldn’t bat an eye. Well thank you Grandpa, you might have just found a wife for me, not for your perfect Harry.

“Continue” I take my hand off the folder and lean back, legs crossed, in my famous, I am in charge position.

She resumes, her eyes skim through; surprise, shock, irritation, confusion, swap through her eyes. It’s too much for her.

I hadn’t read what Simon typed but I was very clear with Simon so whatever was making her trip, I definitely approved. It’s okay Angel, you are free to run, I won’t stop you.