ELLA'S POV
"Ella," Maya said the moment she barged into my room, her eyes glittering like she'd just won the lottery. "We have a wedding to plan."
I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head. "Don't. Please don't. You're not supposed to be excited about this."
She plopped down beside me, yanking the blanket away. "I know, but come on—marrying him? James freaking Bellarie? Ella, I've seen the way people stare at him. It's like God spent extra hours sculpting his face."
I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they'd get stuck. "He's a criminal, Maya. A monster. The fact that he's… stupidly attractive doesn't make me want to plan flowers and cake."
"Mm-hm," she said, smirking. "Keep telling yourself that."
"By the way I haven't seen Asher around recently"
"Nope, he's probably upset about the wedding." she said "Nigga's in love"
"Maya, that's it!" I shouted in excitement. Maybe I have just found a way out of this mess.
"I have an idea" I said as a smirked formed on my lips.
"Asher and I can pretend to be together, madly in love " The sound of it was crazy but maybe it was just crazy enough to work, I said to myself.
"What?" She shot back."Does it like this man gives a fuck about who you love. He's definitely crazy about you from what I've seen and heard girl. He went through the trouble of getting Carlito kidnapped just so he could have you. Would love really make a difference?" She had a good point, but I was really desperate enough to try.
"I mean it's worth the shot" I answered.
That evening, after hours of convincing, we called Asher. He hesitated, his jaw clenched, eyes avoiding mine. For a moment, I saw something flicker there—pain, longing, maybe even fear. But in the end, he agreed. He didn't really have a choice. I needed him.I needed my freedom.
ASHER'S POV
The moment she asked me to pretend, my heart sunk completely. One part of me wanted this whole thing to be real. For us to fight for something real, something we both want. But alas, I was just a pawn in her little game. I didn't love her any less though. Her brown eyes lighting up telling me about her plan. She looked so happy, even though I knew it wasn't going to end well I couldn't say no.
We decided to take pictures and videos of us together and send it to James.
"So you guys have to look really in love," Maya said, holding up her phone like she was about to direct a movie.
Ella moved closer to me, her arm brushing mine. My body stiffened on instinct, but then her hand slid into mine and I swear my heart forgot how to beat. She was acting—this was all pretend—but God, it felt too real.
"Relax, Ash," she whispered so only I could hear. "We need this to look convincing."
Convincing? My arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer. If she wanted real, I'd give her real. Her breath hitched, and for a brief second, I could almost believe this wasn't fake at all.
"Perfect," Maya squealed, snapping picture after picture. "Now kiss."
Ella froze, her wide eyes darting to mine. My pulse hammered in my chest, torn between what she wanted and what I needed.
"Just a kiss," Maya urged. "Otherwise James won't buy it."
Ella swallowed hard, lips parting like she wanted to say something—but before she could, I leaned in. The world fell away. Her lips were soft, hesitant at first, then pressing back against mine, sending a rush of fire through my veins.
For me, it wasn't pretend. It never had been.
But when we pulled apart, the look in her eyes reminded me exactly where I stood:
This was war. And I was nothing more than her weapon.
ELLA'S POV
Not long after, the door bell rang. Maya had gone to see who it was. It was the same man that brought me the contract. He held a black box in his hands which was designed with red ribbons. "Sir asked me to deliver this to Miss Anderson."
I rushed to the door immediately, eager to see what was in the box. But as soon as he handed it over to me, he picked up his pace and walked to the car. He was probably thinking I was going to tear it to shreds again.
We opened it and found am emerald green velvet dress, designed with several ornaments, shimmering inside the box. The box had a letter which read : BE AT HOTEL CASABLANCA AT 7PM TONIGHT ALONE. COME IN THIS DRESS OR DON'T COME AT ALL.
"Who the fuck does he think he is?" I burst "I'm supposed to come running for answers like a lost puppy in a dress he bought?"
"What if it's a trap?" Maya asked with worry in her eyes. "Please don't go Ella," Maya begged. "Asher, say something!"
"She's right" Asher said in agreement. They both had a point but one part of me was curious to know what this was about.
"I'll be fine" I smiled "He won't hurt me" I said with so much certainty as if I'd known him my whole life.
"He went through this whole stress to get me, so he won't hurt me" I hoped. I needed answers badly. The photo, the deal, what happened with my father. Everything!
THE HOTEL.
The hotel suite glittered with chandeliers and the sharp murmur of men and women who looked like they'd sold their souls twice over. I walked in elegantly in the dress James had sent over It wasn't my style but I had no other choice since that was the instructions said. Every step in that suite felt like walking into a trap-but I couldn't turn back now.
I saw him by the bar having a drink. He was dressed in a black pants and a matching black shirt, buttoned up to his chest, revealing his perfectly toned skin, his hair falling freely this time. This was the most casual I've seen him look and he looked even more sexy. Damn! he is so good looking.
When he finally saw me, his eyes didn't leave me once. They moved slowly—ear to neck, down the emerald velvet clinging to my frame, lingering at the slit that teased bare skin. He looked at me like he had crafted the dress himself.
"I knew it would suit you," James murmured, "I always know."
I stiffened, forcing a smirk. "You don't get to take credit. I have my own money. I don't need—"
"Thanks to me," he cut in smoothly, not even bothering to raise his voice. The words slid like ice into my veins. "Without me, that money, your father's company, your brother's future—they'd all be dust by now."
My breath caught, but he didn't wait for me to reply. He tipped his glass toward a tall man across the room, his smile shark-like.
"That one wanted to bankrupt your father. Leave you and Carlito on the street."
I followed his gaze, my stomach twisting.
James's lips brushed closer to my ear, his hand tightening slightly at my waist. "And the one with the gold rings?" He nodded toward another man, who winked at me. "He wanted to burn your house-with your whole family in it."
Cold horror washed through me.
"And the police?" James's smirk deepened, sharp and cruel. "You'd run crying to them, and your file would be shredded before you reached the exit. These men own the police. They own everything."
One rival chuckled. "Pretty lady you've got, Bellarie. But does she really belong to you? Or is her heart somewhere else?" the man said sarcastically.
James didn't answer. The silence was suffocating, pressing on my chest until something inside me snapped.
"I do."
The words came out firm, and unexpected. The room stilled—smirks, knowing looks, mocking stares—but James… James's gaze locked on mine, unreadable.
He leaned in, so close that his breath tickled my lips, his eyes burning into me. His mouth hovered just a whisper away, as if daring me to close the distance.
And God help me, I wanted it. I wanted it more than I wanted freedom, more than I wanted sense. The craving hit me like a storm, fierce and humiliating, my body betraying everything my mind screamed against.
But he stopped—just short. His lips brushed my temple instead, deliberately withholding what I ached for.
"Careful, wifey," he whispered, . "You almost convinced me you meant that."
I caught his wrist, my voice trembling. "Why? Why are you doing all this—protecting my family, marrying me? What do you gain?"
His mouth curved into that dangerous half-smile. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch tender and terrifying all at once.
"A story for another day, wifey."
And then he stepped away, leaving me trembling in the dress that suddenly felt like chains—chains I wasn't sure I wanted to break.
He had been gone for what felt like hours. The music downstairs had shifted to something slower, more haunting. The crystal chandeliers caught the dim light, throwing fragments of gold across the marble floors as I stepped out of the lounge.
I wasn't sure why I was looking for him — maybe because I needed more answers, maybe because I hated how much power his absence already had over me.
I followed the faint echo of his voice down the hall, sharp and composed, speaking to someone I couldn't see. My heels clicked quietly against the floor as I approached, stopping at the slightly open door.
Through the narrow space, I caught a glimpse — James, leaning close to a woman draped in silver. Her laughter was soft, her hand tracing the edge of his collar. He wasn't touching her, not really, but his stillness… his control… it made it worse. He was letting her touch him. Watching me watch him. I froze. My throat burned. He knew I was there.
The woman whispered something I couldn't catch, and his lips curved — not with pleasure, but something crueler, calculated. He finally looked up, straight into the shadow where I stood.
"Jealous, sweetheart?" His voice cut through the silence.
I stepped into the light before I could stop myself. "Why would I be?" I shot back, though my voice betrayed me.
He dismissed the woman with a flick of his hand, his gaze never leaving mine. "Good," he said simply. "Because I needed to know what would make you break first — fear, or desire."
I took a step back, my pulse unsteady. "You're sick," I whispered.
James tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was an equation he'd already solved. "No," he said softly, moving closer until his cologne and the faint smell of whiskey wrapped around me.
"Just honest. You came here to understand me, didn't you? To know what kind of monster your father sold you to."
My breath caught as his hand brushed my jaw, slow and deliberate. I wanted to pull away, to scream, but my body refused to move.
"I protect what's mine," he murmured. "And you, Isabella… you've been mine since the day your father made that deal."
His touch lingered for a heartbeat too long before he dropped his hand, his expression unreadable.
"Go home," he said finally, his tone clipped again — businesslike, as if the intimacy had never happened. "I'll send for you when it's time."
And just like that, he walked past me — the faintest trace of his cologne and the sound of his footsteps the only proof he'd ever been there.
I stood in that empty hallway, trembling, his words replaying over and over in my head until I no longer knew if the chill I felt was from fear… or from wanting him. Either way he'd won.