LOGIN¿Qué pasa cuando unes a una experta en catástrofes con un adicto al control total? Fernanda es un desastre funcional. Dejó la universidad por deudas, está desempleada, debe meses de renta y su orgullo le impide regresar con sus padres a Guadalajara. Una noche de tragos, comete la mayor locura de su vida: escribe "SE BUSCA MARIDO" con labial rojo en una factura de luz vencida y la pega en el pizarrón de un bar. Al día siguiente, la resaca es lo de menos... ¡Su anuncio es la tendencia viral número uno de internet! Alexander Vasilakis es un implacable billonario griego que rige su vida bajo un estricto algoritmo de éxito. No cree en las emociones, pero una cláusula en el testamento de su abuelo lo obliga a casarse en menos de tres meses para no perder su imperio familiar. Él no busca amor; necesita un contrato de seis meses y una mujer completamente controlable. Y el destino pone en su pantalla el anuncio de "F.". Él ya la conoce. Ella es la misma chica caótica que el día anterior inundó su gabardina de diseñador con leche espumosa en una cafetería. Para Alexander, ella es la variable más volátil; para Fernanda, él es el arrogante desconocido que ahora le ofrece una fortuna por firmar un papel. El trato es simple: fingir el matrimonio perfecto, salvar el imperio de los Vasilakis y divorciarse sin mirar atrás. Ninguno tomó en cuenta que, en este contrato, no se aceptan devoluciones. ©Todos los derechos reservados. Copyright © 2026 by Nancy Lara
View MoreALICE
Prior to this absolutely terrible, shitty, no-good day, I had it all.
The handsome and loving fiancé. A best friend I'd known for all my life who would do anything for me. A great position in one of the best firms in the country. A supportive family who stuck to my side no matter what.
But now? It was all over.
It all started with the New Year's Eve party our firm, Hawthorne Group, was hosting on New Year's Eve. This event was one I should've never attended to begin with, but my best friend, Emma Barkley, who worked in the same firm as me and actually organized the whole thing, convinced me to join her.
I could still remember her pleas days before the event. "Come on, Alice! It'll be so much fun!"
"No, I don't think it'll be fun at all," I argued, folding my arms across my chest. "Exactly how is spending New Year's in a company setting supposed to be fun? This is supposed to be our break from work!"
She put her hands together and batted her eyelashes at me. "Yeah, but you're not flying to Maryland to see your family and Benjamin's still out of the country. What else do you have lined up?"
"I can literally stay at home, Ems. I don't need to go out for New Year's."
Staying home would be a much better option for me. Spending unnecessary, unpaid time close to my boss, Theodore Linden-Hawthorne gave me the heebie-jeebies. I wish I'd paid attention to that instinct.
I wouldn't be where I was now if I had.
My boss was the proverbial pain in the ass, and I meant that in the most disrespectful way possible. I used to work for his father, that was, Theodore Hawthorne Sr., and he was the nicest man in the world. He promoted me from junior assistant to executive assistant in a year, and now, I was earning more than I could've ever dreamed.
But Mr. Hawthrone died six months ago, and his oldest son, Theodore Linden-Hawthorne, took over.
And ever since, I'd been living hell on earth.
Emma wanted me to spend extra time in the presence of that devil?
Nuh-uh. Nope. Not a chance in hell.
"Yeah, but your best friend in the whole world is asking you to come with her so she doesn't have to face the party she's organizing on her own," she claimed, taking my hand in hers and squeezing hard. "Oh, please, Alice. Do this for me? Please. This is the only thing I'll ever ask you!"
I gave in two days before the party. Emma asked so nicely, and anyway, I could do this for my best friend.
That was what I told myself even as I walked through the doors of the event, wearing a knee-length white dress with a flared skirt and a halter neckline.
A good choice for a professional setting like this one.
My hair was up, and I had diamond earrings my fiancé, Benjamin, gifted me for Christmas, which was when we last saw each other. I saw Emma from across the room and she waved at me. I started toward her, keeping my eyes just on her face, but someone stepped right in front of me, blocking my view of her.
Sure enough, it was the devil himself.
Theodore Linden-Hawthorne. Dressed in a white Armani suit that probably cost a fortune. His dark hair was slicked back, and the look on his chiseled face was sharp enough to cut through glass.
He gave me a once-over that made me feel out of place even though I knew I was dressed to kill, and I was forced to smile and greet him in a friendly way. "Mr. Linden-Hawthorne."
"Miss Rhodes," he said in his usual clipped tone before his cold blue eyes return to my face. "I see you showed up."
His statement made me falter, and he added quickly, "It's not an exam, Miss Rhodes. It was simply an observation. Your name wasn't on the final invitation list I received."
"I...yes. I decided to come last minute."
"Last minute," he echoed. "Like an afterthought."
I took note of the glass of champagne in his hand and asked myself if maybe he was drunk, because why was he saying this to me?
"Do you realize that a lot of people would've killed to be on that list?" he continued before sipping his champagne. "But to you, it was a disposable idea. How...fitting."
I tightened my hold on my clutch. Emma watched from a distance, her eyes a little wide. "I'm not sure what you mean, sir."
"What I mean," he said before stepping toward me, "is that you look like you'd rather be someplace else, and that's not a good look for the company. I want to see a smile on that face, Miss Rhodes. Understood?"
I stared back at him, questioning my sanity. He gulped the rest of his drink down, then turned away from me at once. I continued toward Emma, who immediately asked me, "Uhm, what was that about?"
"He lost it," I exclaimed before looking over my shoulder.
Sure enough, he was looking at me even though he was standing among a large group of people. He made a gesture with his hands for me to smile, and I looked away sharply because I didn't trust myself to keep a straight face.
"See? His dream is to find an excuse to get me fired! I don't think this is such a great idea, Emma. Maybe I should just—"
She grabbed my arm quickly. "No! Of course, not. You need to stand your ground, Alice! You can't let him crawl under your skin. Remember how hard you fought for this position. You deserve to be here, that's why he hasn't fired you yet. He knows you're the best executive assistant in the country!"
"I don't know, Emma," I sighed. "I just...I don't know."
She rubbed my arm and stared at me intently. "It's going to be alright. I know why you're upset. You miss Benjamin, don't you?"
I smiled at her words, shoving my interaction with my boss to the back of my mind. "Yeah. I do. I really miss him."
He'd been gone for about a week now, and he should be coming back in the first week of January. But since we got together two years ago, we haven't been away from each other for this long.
"Want a drink?" Emma asked before winking and grabbing my hand. "I know I need one."
"No," I said quickly, digging my heels on the marble floor of the office's lobby. "I don't think that's such a good idea."
"Why? Everyone's drinking. Just relax."
Drinking while in the same room with Mr. Linden-Hawthorne? I didn't think so. But Emma wasn't listening to me. She never did. She dragged me to the long table in the corner where a bunch of filled champagne glasses were lined up, and handed me one.
"Just one drink. Here. Let me take this from you." She took my clutch and forced me to hold the glass with both hands. "Relax. Take a sip. That's it. Just one drink. That's all you need to—oh, good evening, Mr. Landon!"
She whizzed right past me to greet the company's COO, and I focused on taking another sip of the bubbly champagne. I looked up and suddenly saw Mr. Linden-Hawthorne staring directly at me, and for a moment, I froze, unsure of what else to do. Behind me, I heard Emma and our COO chatting, and for some reason, I couldn't seem to take my eyes off my infuriating boss.
Maybe I wanted to show him that I was not intimidated by him. Or maybe I just wanted him to take a good look at my face and see how I was not smiling.
Emma returned to my side and handed me my clutch. "Sorry. I didn't realize I had it with me."
"It's fine," I assured her as I took it back.
"I felt your phone vibrating. I think you got a text or something." She winked. "Maybe it's from Benjamin."
"Yeah. Maybe."
"You should send him a selfie," she suggested before reaching for a glass of champagne herself. "Show him how good you look. If you know what I mean."
I smirked, knowing exactly what she meant, and headed to the bathroom.
I locked myself in a stall, feeling a lot better after the glass of champagne, and took a selfie by holding the phone up. Then, I raised the hem of my dress, pushed my lace panties to the side, and stuck my tongue out before sharing the photos with him via text. I also sent him a text saying:
I know you're dying for some of this. xo
This should make up for the distance between us.
Satisfied, I walked back out of the bathroom, feeling a lot better. I made eye contact with Emma, and she waved me over.
I could do with another glass of champagne, I decided as I walked up to her, already feeling better.
What harm could it do?
FERNANDALa recámara principal de la hacienda de Corfú era una estancia majestuosa de techos altos con vigas de madera expuesta, ventanales de arcos románicos que daban directamente hacia el mar jónico y una imponente cama de matrimonio con dosel de lino blanco en el centro de la habitación.En cuanto la pesada puerta de madera tallada se cerró tras nosotros y los botones dejaron nuestras maletas sobre las banquetas de piel, me dejé caer sobre el sillón de mimbre de la terraza privada, tratando de procesar la densidad del ambiente que habíamos respirado desde que pusimos un pie en la isla.—Una sola cama —comenté, cruzando los brazos y mirando a Alexander mientras él colocaba su maletín de piel sobre la consola—. La tía Atenea no perdió ni un solo segundo para empezar su interrogatorio silencioso y ponernos a prueba.—Atenea es metódica, ya te lo dije —respondió Alexander, acomodándose las mangas de la camisa con absoluta calma—. Esperaba este movimiento de su parte. Elías me confirmó
FERNANDAA diferencia de las fatídicas diez horas sobre el Atlántico desde México a Atenas, donde me comí un paquete de frituras en tenis neón sobre la pulcra alfombra de Alexander, este vuelo hacia la Isla de Corfú era un trayecto corto de apenas cuarenta y cinco minutos. Sin embargo, la tensión en el aire se sentía el doble de densa.Nuevamente estábamos a bordo del impecable jet privado de Vasilakis Group, pero esta vez la cabina ejecutiva no era un campo de batalla en solitario entre el General del control y mi caótico estilo de vida. Ahora compartíamos el espacio de cuero beige y madera de nogal con Nikitas y su esposa Katerina.Alexander ocupaba el asiento individual junto al ventanal. Llevaba unos pantalones de lino color crema y una camisa azul claro con los primeros botones desabotonados, prescindiendo por primera vez de su riguroso saco de ejecutivo. A pesar de su vestimenta veraniega y relajada, su tableta de titanio seguía firme en sus manos y sus ojos grises escaneaban in
FERNANDALa mesa del comedor principal parecía un tablero de ajedrez gigante donde cada cubierto de plata de tres tenedores, cada copa de cristal de Bohemia y cada servilleta de lino almidonado representaban una pieza en una guerra no declarada.Alexander se sentó en la cabecera, imponente, rígido y luciendo esa belleza aristocrática que parecía esculpida en mármol. Yo fui ubicada inmediatamente a su derecha, en la posición de honor que le correspondía a la futura señora de la casa. Justo enfrente de nosotros se acomodaron los tíos Héctor y Atenea, emanando una severidad que ponía a prueba hasta al sirviente más experimentado. A mi lado se ubicó Katerina, impecable en su vestido verde esmeralda, y junto a ella Nikitas, quien mantenía una postura relajada y parecía divertirse de lo lindo con la densa tormenta que flotaba sobre la mesa.El silencio inicial era denso, casi palpable, interrumpido únicamente por el sutil sonido del vino tinto de cosecha privada siendo servido en las copas
FERNANDAEl vestido de seda negra de Chantal era, sin duda, una obra de arte, pero para mí se sentía como una armadura de alta gama a punto de ser probada en combate.Me miré al espejo del vestidor por última vez. La seda se ceñía a mi figura con una elegancia impecable, dejando la espalda al descubierto hasta la zona lumbar. Llevaba el cabello recogido en un peinado alto que dejaba ver mi cuello, mis labios pintados de un rojo intenso y los tacones de diez centímetros sosteniendo mis pies con una firmeza que milagrosamente había logrado dominar en el ensayo de anoche.Me puse las pequeñas gotas de diamante que el equipo de Alexander había colocado sobre la consola de mi recámara y tomé una respiración profunda. El espejo me devolvía la imagen de una mujer completamente distinta a la chica desastrosa que había manchado su blusa con pasta dental antes de una entrevista de trabajo en la Ciudad de México. Pero por dentro, mi corazón latía con la misma intensidad desordenada.En la puerta






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