CHAPTER 2

ALEXANDER’S POV

The Man Behind the Photograph

The first mistake was allowing Ethan Cole into my office.

The second was giving him access to my personal telephone.

And the third, apparently, was assuming that a man who had known me for fifteen years understood the meaning of professional boundaries.

“You’re getting married.”

I didn’t look up.

“Get out.”

Ethan remained exactly where he was.

He was sitting comfortably in the expensive leather chair opposite my desk, one ankle resting over his knee, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“Congratulations, by the way. I would have preferred an invitation, but I understand these things happen quickly when love is involved.”

I continued reading the document in front of me.

“Ethan.”

“Alexander.”

“Leave.”

“Not before we discuss your fiancée.”

My pen stopped moving.

Slowly, I raised my eyes.

“What fiancée?”

He grinned.

“Oh, excellent. We’re starting with denial.”

I leaned back in my chair.

“Explain.”

Ethan reached into his jacket and produced his phone.

He tapped the screen twice before turning it towards me.

A photograph.

A wedding invitation.

And an email confirmation.

My expression didn’t change.

But something inside me became very still.

“Would you care to explain why a woman called Arabella Hayes has hired someone from a private companionship agency using your photograph?”

I looked at the screen.

Then at him.

“She has done what?”

“Apparently, you’re going to be her billionaire fiancé.”

Silence.

I took the phone from his hand.

The photograph was unmistakably mine.

It had been taken during a charity gala almost eight months earlier. My communications team had submitted it to a private corporate directory used for high-profile business events.

It was never supposed to be available to the public.

And certainly not on an escort agency’s website.

I read the email again.

CLIENT CODE: A-001.

BOOKING REQUEST: PRIVATE EVENT COMPANIONSHIP.

CLIENT REQUEST: FIANCÉ ROLE.

I stared at the screen.

Then I placed the phone on my desk.

“Find out who authorized this.”

Ethan burst out laughing.

I looked at him.

He immediately covered his mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

I exhaled slowly.

“Something about this amuses you?”

“Alexander, a woman has hired you to pretend to be her fiancé.”

“That isn’t amusing.”

“You’re right. It’s romantic.”

I gave him a look that could have frozen the windows.

He raised both hands.

“Fine. I’ll behave.”

He lasted approximately four seconds.

“Do you think she’ll expect flowers?”

“Ethan.”

“Perhaps a diamond ring?”

“Get out.”

“Maybe matching outfits?”

I stood.

He immediately got up.

“Fine, fine. I’m leaving.”

He walked towards the door, then turned around.

“One question.”

I said nothing.

“Is she pretty?”

I glanced at the photograph attached to the booking.

Arabella Hayes.

The name meant nothing to me.

The woman in the small profile photograph had dark hair, delicate features, and an expression that suggested she wasn’t particularly impressed by the world around her.

I studied it for another second.

“That isn’t relevant.”

Ethan smiled.

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He disappeared through the door before I could throw something at him.

My name is Alexander Sterling.

I am thirty-one years old, chairman of Sterling International, and the majority shareholder of a business empire that operates across several European markets.

My family has spent generations building a reputation that makes people nervous before I even enter a room.

I have never needed to raise my voice to get what I want.

I have never needed to chase opportunities.

And I have certainly never needed to pretend to be someone’s fiancé.

My schedule is controlled down to the minute.

My business relationships are carefully maintained.

My personal life is private.

Deliberately so.

I don’t entertain unnecessary attachments, and I have little patience for people who mistake proximity to my money for access to me.

Marriage has never been particularly appealing.

My mother disagrees.

She has introduced me to enough eligible women to populate a small country.

Every introduction ends the same way.

A polite conversation.

An expensive dinner.

And a clear understanding that I will not be calling again.

I don’t dislike women.

I simply have no interest in pretending to feel something I don’t.

Yet, somehow, a woman I have never met has managed to arrange a fake engagement with me.

I should have been annoyed.

I was annoyed.

But I was also curious about one thing.

Why had she chosen my photograph?

“Mr. Sterling?”

My assistant, Daniel, appeared at the door.

“Yes?”

“Your four o’clock meeting has arrived.”

“Send them in.”

He hesitated.

“There’s also a matter concerning the private agency you asked me to investigate.”

I looked up.

“Go on.”

“We contacted the agency. They confirmed that someone submitted your photograph and basic professional profile several weeks ago.”

“Who?”

“They couldn’t establish the original source immediately. Their system shows that the profile was supplied through an external booking partner.”

“Did they know it wasn’t authorized?”

“They claim they believed it was a legitimate companion profile.”

I frowned.

“Did they identify the woman who made the booking?”

“Arabella Hayes. Twenty-five. She lives in the city.”

“Is she connected to the person who submitted the photograph?”

“Not according to the information currently available.”

I looked towards the window.

Bellacourt stretched beneath the afternoon sunlight, its magnificent buildings reflecting the gold of the setting sun.

“Contact the agency again. Tell them the profile is unauthorized.”

“Certainly.”

“And arrange for the booking to be cancelled.”

Daniel nodded.

Then he added, carefully, “There is one complication.”

I turned.

“What complication?”

“Miss Hayes has already paid the deposit.”

I stared at him.

“Then refund it.”

“Of course.”

He paused.

“The wedding is in three days.”

I glanced at the calendar on my desk.

Three days.

I had a corporate event scheduled on the same evening.

A charity auction hosted by the Bellacourt Foundation.

The same event my mother had been insisting I attend.

I looked at the booking details again.

Arabella Hayes.

For reasons I couldn’t quite explain, the name caught my attention.

“Send me the complete booking information.”

Daniel nodded.

“Anything else?”

“No.”

He turned to leave.

“Daniel.”

He stopped.

“Yes, sir?”

“Don’t let Ethan anywhere near this.”

Daniel’s expression remained professional.

But I noticed the slight movement at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll do my best.”

An hour later, Ethan returned.

I didn’t bother looking up.

“If you’re here to discuss my imaginary wedding, leave.”

“Actually, I’m here to discuss your real one.”

I closed the file.

“You’re becoming irritating.”

“Thank you. I’ve been practising.”

He walked towards my desk and dropped into the chair.

“Your mother called.”

I closed my eyes.

“What does she want?”

“To know whether you’re attending the charity auction.”

“Tell her I’m busy.”

“I did.”

“And?”

“She said she would personally come to your office if you attempted to avoid her again.”

I sighed.

Victoria Sterling was not a woman who accepted rejection gracefully.

Especially from her only son.

“Tell her I’ll attend.”

Ethan smiled.

“Wonderful. I’ll inform her that you’re bringing your fiancée.”

“You will not dare.”

“Fine. I’ll inform her that you’re bringing a mysterious woman whose identity you’ve refused to disclose.”

“Ethan.”

He laughed.

“Relax. I’m joking.”

I returned to my documents.

He remained quiet for a moment.

Then his voice changed.

“Seriously, Alex. What are you going to do about the woman?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re going to ignore it?”

“The agency will refund her money. They’ll remove the photograph. The matter ends there.”

“And if she contacts you?”

“She won’t.”

Ethan considered that.

Then he leaned forward.

“You’re assuming a lot about a woman who apparently decided to hire a billionaire without checking whether he was actually available.”

I gave him a cold look.

“She hired a photograph.”

“Exactly. And now I’m wondering whether she’s going to be disappointed when the real thing doesn’t arrive.”

I picked up my pen.

“Out.”

He laughed as he stood.

“One day, Alexander, somebody is going to make you forget how to be this miserable.”

I didn’t answer.

But after he left, I found myself looking at the photograph again.

Arabella Hayes.

I wondered what kind of woman hired a stranger to pretend to be engaged to her.

And why she had chosen a man whose identity she apparently hadn’t bothered to verify.

It was an unusual decision.

An irresponsible one.

And, unfortunately, a decision that had somehow landed on my desk.

Later that evening, I attended dinner at my mother’s residence.

The Sterling estate stood on the outskirts of Bellacourt, surrounded by landscaped gardens, private security, and enough marble to construct a small palace.

My mother was waiting in the dining room.

She looked elegant as always.

Her silver-brown hair was perfectly arranged, and her dark green dress complemented the expensive jewellery around her neck.

“Alexander.”

“Mother.”

She kissed my cheek.

“You’re late.”

“I had meetings.”

“You always have meetings.”

“That’s generally how businesses operate.”

She ignored the comment.

We sat opposite each other.

For several minutes, dinner proceeded peacefully.

Then she placed her fork down.

“I heard something interesting today.”

I continued eating.

“Did you?”

“Apparently, there’s a woman.”

My fork stopped.

Ethan.

I was going to kill him.

“What woman?”

My mother smiled.

“A woman you’ve been seeing.”

“I haven’t.”

“Her name is Arabella.”

I slowly placed my fork down.

“Who told you that?”

“Your friend.”

Of course.

“Ethan has too much free time.”

“He’s a charming young man.”

“He’s a nuisance.”

Victoria laughed softly.

“Is she beautiful?”

I looked at her.

“Why?”

“Because I’m curious.”

“There’s nothing to be curious about.”

She studied me for a moment.

Then she smiled again.

“Perhaps this is finally the year you surprise me.”

I returned to my meal.

She had no idea.

Three days later.

The morning began with an argument.

Not a particularly important one.

Just an argument about a tie.

Ethan was standing in my dressing room, holding two ties as though he had been appointed to a position of extraordinary responsibility.

“Blue.”

“Black.”

“Blue.”

“Black.”

He looked at me.

“You’re impossible.”

I adjusted my cufflinks.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because your taste in clothing is excellent, but your taste in women is nonexistent.”

I turned towards him.

He smiled.

“That was unnecessary,” I said.

“Yet accurate.”

I took the black tie.

He looked offended.

“Fine. Ruin your own life.”

I ignored him.

My phone vibrated.

A message from Daniel.

Daniel: The agency has confirmed that Miss Hayes is expecting her selected companion this afternoon. The booking cancellation has not yet been communicated to her.

I read it twice.

Then I looked at the time.

The appointment was scheduled for four.

It was currently three forty-five.

I exhaled.

“Daniel.”

He answered immediately.

“Yes, sir?”

“Have they contacted the woman?”

“Not yet. The agency says they are attempting to reach her.”

“Tell them to stop the arrangement. I won’t be attending.”

“Understood.”

I ended the call.

Ethan watched me.

“Everything all right?”

“Yes.”

“That sounded convincing.”

I picked up my jacket.

“I’m leaving.”

“Where?”

“To the office.”

“You’re attending the auction tonight, remember?”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

He grinned.

“Good. Your mother would probably have us both executed if you didn’t.”

I walked past him.

At exactly four o’clock, I was standing inside my private office, reviewing a contract, when Daniel appeared.

“Sir?”

I didn’t look up.

“What is it?”

“The agency has sent another message.”

“Have they cancelled the booking?”

“Not exactly.”

I raised my eyes.

Daniel looked uncomfortable.

“They’ve confirmed that the client is still expecting her companion.”

I stared at him.

“Then they can explain the cancellation themselves.”

“There’s another matter.”

I leaned back.

“What now?”

“The woman has apparently been informed that her companion is arriving shortly.”

I said nothing.

Daniel continued.

“She’s already waiting at her residence.”

For a moment, the office was silent.

I looked at the clock.

Four o’clock.

Then at the booking details.

Arabella Hayes.

A woman I had never met.

A woman who had paid money to spend an evening pretending to be engaged to me.

I should have ended the matter there.

Instead, I found myself asking a question I hadn’t intended to ask.

“Does she know?”

Daniel frowned.

“Know what, sir?”

“That the man she hired isn’t an escort?”

Daniel hesitated.

“I don’t believe so.”

I looked towards the window.

Then I stood.

“Get the car.”

Daniel blinked.

“Sir?”

“I’m going to see her.”

I don’t make impulsive decisions.

I calculate.

I assess.

I consider consequences before taking action.

Yet, twenty minutes later, I was sitting in the back of my black Maybach, travelling towards an address I had never visited.

Ethan called twice.

I ignored him.

Then he sent a message.

Ethan: Please tell me you’re not going to meet your fake fiancée.

I stared at the screen.

Another message arrived.

Ethan: If you are, at least buy flowers. Women like flowers.

I locked my phone.

The driver turned onto a quieter residential street.

“Mr. Sterling, we’ve arrived.”

I looked outside.

A modest but attractive apartment building stood ahead.

Nothing like the grand estates I was accustomed to visiting.

I stepped out.

The building was quiet.

I entered, followed the instructions Daniel had provided, and stopped in front of apartment 4B.

For a few seconds, I simply stared at the door.

I had no reasonable explanation for why I was there.

Perhaps I wanted to see the woman who had managed to create this absurd situation.

Perhaps I wanted to understand how someone could be so careless with a stranger’s identity.

Or perhaps I was simply curious.

I raised my hand.

Knocked twice.

There was movement inside.

Footsteps approached.

Then the door opened.

And there she was.

Arabella Hayes.

Her dark hair fell loosely around her shoulders. She wore a simple cream blouse and fitted black trousers, and she held a phone in one hand.

Her eyes travelled over my face.

Then her expression changed.

She looked at me.

Then at the empty hallway behind me.

Then back at me.

“You’re early.”

I said nothing.

She smiled.

It was a surprisingly lovely smile.

“Well, come in. I was beginning to think the agency had sent me someone who didn’t know how to read a clock.”

I remained where I was.

Her smile faltered slightly.

“Is something wrong?”

I looked at the woman who had hired me without knowing who I was.

Then I finally spoke.

“Are you Arabella Hayes?”

“Yes.”

“Alexander Sterling.”

She blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then she laughed.

A small, confused laugh.

“Sorry?”

I watched the realization begin to settle.

Her fingers tightened around her phone.

“No,” she whispered.

I tilted my head slightly.

“Afraid so.”

Her face lost its colour.

And for the first time in a very long while, I found myself genuinely interested in what someone would say next.