The moment Bianca opened her eyes, reality crashed over her like a brutal wave, she didn't need a reminder of what today was.
She stared at the ceiling, heart pounding, her body frozen in the cocoon of her silk sheets. A flicker of hope tried to convince her that maybe–just maybe–this was all a terrible dream. But when she turned her head, the glittering gold dress her mother had picked out for her laid neatly on the chair by her dresser, mocking her.
A sharp breath left her lips, frustration bubbling in her chest. She grabbed her pillow and screamed into it, muffling the sound as rage shook through her. Why was this happening to her?
She'd begged, She'd pleaded, but nothing she did had been enough to change her father's mind. He had made his decision. And now, she had to suffer for it.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling her out of thoughts.
Kayden Russo.
The name made her stomach knot. Bianca hadn't bothered to google him before. But now? She had no choice. If she was being forced into this marriage, she at least needed to know who she was dealing with.
With a trembling hand, she unlocked her phone and typed his name into the search bar.
KAYDEN RUSSO – CEO OF RUSSO ENTERPRISES.
Her brows furrowed as she stared at his image. Chiseled jawline, piercing eyes, an undeniable air of power. He was… devastatingly handsome. The type of man who could command a room without saying a word.
But as she scrolled further, the admiration turned into unease.
"Kayen Russo's ruthless business strategies – brilliant or reckless?"
"The billionaire who plays as hard as he works – inside Kayden Russo's empire."
"Kayden Russo's former fiancée – no comments from the billionaire."
"Exposed: CEO Kayden Russo and his illicit affair with Mr. Adams' wife."
Bianca's breath caught in her throat.
Her eyes widened as she clicked on the last headline, skimming through the article.
Mr. Adams–one of Kayden's biggest clients–had allegedly found out about the affair through a private investigator he had hired. It had caused a scandal in high society, but somehow, Kayden had still come out unscathed, his company untouched.
Bianca's grip tightened on her phone.
This was the man her father wanted her to marry?
A bitter laugh escaped her lips.
Unbelievable.
No. She needed to get out of this.
Her mind raced, grasping at straws. Could she disappear? Run away? There had to be a way out. A sharp knock on the door made her jerk.
"Bianca?"
Her mother's voice. The last person she wanted to see.
The door cracked open, but Bianca didn't even lift her head. She stared at her phone, still frozen in place.
Her mother sighed heavily. "You're not even dressed yet?"
Bianca didn't answer.
"Your father–"
Slam.
She shoved the bathroom door closed, locking herself in. Her mother wouldn't understand. She never did.
With a deep breath, she turned on the shower, hoping the scalding water would wash away the dread curling inside her.
Today, she will meet Kayden Russo.
And she had a feeling her life would never be the same again.
Bianca reached for the door handle, her heels tapping softly against the hallway tiles.
Then—voices. Low and muffled, coming from behind the study door.
She froze.
"…we gave her everything," her mother was saying, her tone calm but edged. "The best schools, the finest clothes, a life she never would've had otherwise. The least she can do now is return the favour"
There was a short pause.
Then her father's voice, lower, more tired.
"You're right. I just hope she doesn't run off like her—"
A car horn blared from outside.
Bianca flinched, the sharp sound jolting her out of place. The moment snapped. The voices fell silent.
She stood there for a second longer, waiting. But nothing else came. Just the ticking clock and the strange weight in her chest.
She forced herself to straighten, to move. But the words—unfinished and hanging—followed her down the hallway like a shadow.
Bianca arrived at the address her father had given her, stopping in front of a sleek, high-end restaurant named Le Ciel d'Or. The gold-plated name gleamed under the dim city lights, its elegant cursive letters standing proudly above the double doors.
This was the kind of place where billionaires closed deals over vintage wine, where whispered conversations carried more weight than any signed contract.
The valet opened her door, and she stepped out, her heels clicking against the polished pavement. She adjusted the glistering gold dress her mother insisted she wear—something "classy, yet respectable." she didn't care for any of it. All she wanted was to get this over with.
As she walked in, she expected to hear the hum of quiet chatter, the clinking of glasses, but the restaurant was silent. Every table, every seat, completely empty. Her stomach twisted.
He rented out the whole damn place?
She should've known. If Kayden Russo did anything, he did it extravagantly.
A waiter dressed in an all-black suit, stepped forward and gave a polite bow. "Miss Bianca, Mr Russo is expecting you. This way."
She followed him past the candlelit tables, the air heavy with scent of fresh roses and expensive cologne. Everything was perfect. But Bianca wasn't impressed— she was irritated. This was exactly the kind of man her father wanted her to marry.
And then, she saw him.
Kayden Russo was already seated at the best table, back straight, eyes lazily scanning the menu as if he had all the time in the world. He was wearing a crisp black suit with an open collar, no tie–just enough arrogance in the way he dressed to remind people he played by his own rules. His dark hair was effortlessly styled, and the sharp angles of his face looked like they had been sculpted by the gods themselves.
Bianca hated that he was handsome.
Worse, she hated that he had the audacity to be on time–something she didn't expect from a man with his reputation.
Kayden glanced up, and the moment their eyes met, a slow, knowing smirk curled his lips.
"Bianca." He said her name like he was testing how it felt on his tongue. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up." She didn't sit immediately. Instead she crossed her arms.
"Would you have blamed me if I didn't?"
His smirk deepened, but his gaze didn't waver. " I would've been disappointed."
A waiter pulled out her chair, but Bianca hesitated. She wasn't sure what annoyed her more– his confidence, or the fact that he wasn't acting like the cold-hearted playboy she had read about.
Finally with a sigh, she sat, "Let's not pretend this is something either of us wants."
Kayden leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Oh? You don't believe in love at first sight?"
Bianca scoffed. "I believe in scandals, Mr. Russo. Like the one you were caught sleeping with Mr. Adam's wife?"
Kayden didn't flinch. If anything, he seemed amused.
"I see you've done your research."
"Of course I have. My life is being tied to yours–I deserve to know what kind of man my father is forcing me to marry."
Kayden tilted his head, studying her. "And what do you think?"
"I think," Bianca said, picking up her menu just to avoid looking at him, "that you're exactly what I expected–a man who sees everything as a game only he can win. Someone who only cares about what benefits him, who twists situations to always work in his favour. And women? Just another power play for you right?"
There was a beat of silence. Then—
"Good."
Bianca blinked, lowering the menu.
"Excuse me?"
Kayden took a slow sip of his drink before answering. "It's good that you expect the worst of me. That means nothing I do will surprise you."
Bianca clenched her jaw. She hated this.
Kayden's smirk deepened, as if he could see the fire burning in her eyes and found it amusing. "You know, for someone so against this, you're putting on quite a show. Dressing up, showing up. What's next? A toast to our future?"
Bianca inhaled sharply, trying her best to stay composed. "I showed up because my father asked me too. Don't mistake it for anything else."
Kayden let out a chuckle, his fingers idly tracing the rims of his glass. "Ah, duty. That famous sense of obedience. You church girls love that, don't you?"
Her nails dug into her palm beneath the table." Don't talk about things you don't understand..
"Oh, but I do." He leaned forward lowering his voice just enough to make it infuriatingly intimate
"I understand that your father needs me. I understand that you'd rather do anything than to be here, yet here you are." He tilted his head. "And I understand that no matter how much you hate this, you're still at this table with me."
Bianca's stomach twisted, but she refused to break eye contact. "Enjoy this while it lasts, Kayden. Because this?" She gestured between them. "It won't work."
Kayden simply smiled, slow and knowing. "You think you have a say in this?"
She exhaled sharply, pushing back her chair. "I'm leaving."
"Sit." His voice was calm, but there was an underlying command in it.
Bianca froze.
His eyes darkened—not with anger, but with possession. "You don't walk out on me, Bianca."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air felt heavier, the space between them charged with something Bianca didn't want to name.
Bianca sat, her body tensed, but something about his voice sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. It was deep, firm, and laced with authority. Something about the way he sounded, the dominance in his voice, made her breath hitch for just a second. Heat pooled low in her stomach before she snapped herself out of it. What the hell was wrong with her?
Lifting her glass, she took a slow sip of her wine, letting the rich flavour coat her tongue. The dim lighting of the restaurant should have provided some sense of privacy, but soon enough, bright flashes flickered at the edge of her vision.
A frown crept on her face as she turned towards the massive windows, her stomach twisting at the sight outside. Cameras. Dozens of them. Paparazzi pressed up against the glass, their lenses snapping away, reporters murmuring excitedly, and a few holding up microphones as if hoping to catch a stray word from inside.
Bianaca exhaled sharply, her grip tightening around the delicate stem of her glass.
What else had she expected? She was having dinner with Kayden Russo, the billionaire whose name practically lives in the headlines. A man who attracted scandal as easily as he did women.
Still, that didn't make this any less uncomfortable. The invasive flashes, the prying eyes–she wasn't used to this kind of scrutiny, and she hated every second of it. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, resisting the urge to turn away completely, but she already felt trapped under the weight of their attention.
Across the table, Kayden smirked, effortlessly at ease, his fingers lazily rolling the rim of his own glass. He was enjoying this, relishing every bit of the attention. She could see it in the way he leaned back, in the way his lips curved with amusement.
He must have noticed her discomfort because he let out a low chuckle and said, "Oh, sweetheart. Welcome to my world." His voice held that teasing edge, smooth and rich, laced with something almost smug. He lifted his glass to his lips, taking a slow sip before adding, "You'll have to get used to this sort of thing, sweetheart."
Bianca inhaled deeply, then exhaled through her nose. She wasn't in the mood for his arrogance. Without a word, she lifted her own glass again, taking another deliberate sip of wine, pretending he wasn't even there.
As they finished their meal, Kayden stood first, adjusting the cuff of his tailored suit before extending his hand to Bianca. His grip was firm yet possessive as he led her through the restaurant's grand double doors. The moment they stepped outside, chaos erupted.
Flash! Flash!
The blinding lights from camera shutters flickered nonstop, illuminating the night like a lightning storm. Reporters, paparazzi, and eager journalists pushed against the barriers, all struggling for a shot of the billionaire and his soon-to-be wife.
Bianca tensed immediately. The overwhelming noise, the flashing lights, the shouting—it was suffocating. She should have expected this. Of course, there would be cameras. Kayden Russo was a walking headline. For a second, she remembered a woman's arm—soft and firm—pulling her away from flashy lights like these. But whose arm had that been? Yet, she had never been in the middle of something this intense before. The scrutiny made her stomach churn.
Kayden, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on the attention. He flashed his signature smirk, holding Bianca by the waist as he maneuvered them forward.
"Mr. Kayden! Just a few words, please!" One reporter managed to push closer, his microphone extended.
Kayden slowed his steps. Perfect. This was exactly what he wanted.
The man wasted no time. "Mr. Kayden, rumor has it that you're on the verge of being removed as CEO of Russo Enterprises, is this true? "
Bianca's breath caught in her throat. What?
Her gaze snapped toward Kayden as she replayed the question in her head. Oh my God. So that's what this is about. That's why he agreed to this arrangement. He needs to secure his position.
Kayden barely flinched. Instead, he chuckled—a rich, smooth sound laced with confidence.
"Don't be carried away by baseless rumors," he said effortlessly. "I am the standing and only CEO of Russo Enterprises, and that is not changing anytime soon. I'd be damned if I let anyone take over what my father built with his sweat." His voice was a perfect mix of charm and dominance, every word spoken for the cameras.
Bianca swallowed hard. This man is a calculated bastard.
"Kayden!" Another journalist pushed forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "You're holding the beautiful Miss Bianca Beneett—daughter of the renowned preacher Richard Bennett. Are the rumors of your engagement true? Or is she just another one of your many flings?"
Bianca clenched her teeth at the way the reporter said flings, as if she were some disposable object in Kayden's collection of women.
Kayden smirked, pulling her even closer.
"This isn't like the past," he declared smoothly. "Indeed, I have found where my heart truly belongs."
His words sent a ripple of excitement through the crowd. The cameras snapped faster, capturing the supposed moment of love as he gazed deeply into Bianca's eyes.
Bianca, however, barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Yeah, right. She mumbled under her breath, unimpressed.
Then, just as she thought this ridiculous spectacle was over, Kayden turned back to the press.
"In three weeks," he announced, his voice carrying over the excited murmurs, "the whole of New York will witness the wedding of the century."
Bianca's heart stopped.
Three weeks?
She stiffened, staring up at him, waiting for him to laugh and admit this was a joke. But Kayden didn't flinch. He was serious.
The reporters erupted into a frenzy.
"Three weeks? That's fast!"
"Can you give us any details about the wedding?"
"Miss Bennett, are you excited?!"
Bianca couldn't answer. Her mind was spinning.
Kayden noticed the expression on her face, and before the reporters could latch onto it, he swiftly cut in.
"My fiancée and I have to leave now." He nodded curtly, and within seconds, security cleared a path to the car.
The moment they slid into the backseat and the door slammed shut, silence filled the space.
For two seconds.
Then—
"What the hell was that?!" Kayden's voice lashed through the air like a whip.
Bianca flinched, her pulse spiking. Had this piece of shit just raised his voice at her?
Slowly, she turned to him, eyes narrowing.
"First of all, " she said coldly, "you're going to lower your voice when speaking to me."
Kayden's lips twitched, almost in amusement. He wasn't used to women talking back to him.
He leaned back, watching her with an infuriating smirk. "And what exactly was what?" she continued.
"The long face, Bianca. You're going to make the reporters think this whole thing is a sham arrangement."
Bianca let out a dry laugh. "Isn't it, Mr. Kayden?" She threw the name at him like venom.
Kayden was about to fire back when suddenly—
The car jerked violently.
"Watch the damn road, you piece of shit!" Kayden snapped at the driver.
"I-I'm sorry, sir," the man stammered.
Bianca's fingers dug into the seat as the car steadied, but the air inside was still thick with tension.
The rest of the ride was silent.
Bianca stared out of the window, her mind racing.
Three weeks.
Three weeks to marry a man like this.
Her stomach twisted. Hell no.
She had to think of something. Fast.