Chapter Four— Engagement Strategy

Alexander's POV 

Damien looked like he wanted to bolt.

Christian looked like he was calculating how much longer until Damien got disowned.

I looked like I always did: calm.

“You’re engaged?” Damien said again, like repeating it might change the answer.

“To Eliana Rivera,” I confirmed, sharp and unbothered.

Christian’s brow ticked up. “Wow. So it’s officially that kind of day.”

He didn’t sound surprised. Then again, he’d been in on the damage control meetings. He knew exactly what was at stake.

“I—what?” Damien sputtered. ”Since when? You haven’t been seeing anyone seriously, and now you’re engaged?”

“Since three days ago,” I said.

Christian leaned forward, fingers steepled loosely in front of him. “Let’s be clear. This isn’t about love. This is about Cassian Rivera having leverage and Alex eliminating it before it hits daylight.”

“I already said I was sorry—” Damien tried.

“You saying it doesn’t make it less useless,” I cut in. My voice stayed low, but the chill in it could've flash-frozen steel.

He shut up instantly.

“You were seen with the daughter of a married diplomat in a five-star hotel,” I continued. “You didn’t just screw around, Damien. You risked international fallout. If Cassian had leaked those photos to the right media outlet, or worse—to her father? You wouldn’t just be a headline. You’d be a liability. You’d be dead.”

Damien swallowed, his confidence buckling fast.

That photo, taken during his late-night rendezvous with the daughter of a very married South Korean dignitary, hadn’t even been meant for me. But Cassian had it. And he used it.

Used it to push me into a corner. Into a proposal. Into Eliana.

”What were you thinking? Sleeping with a married woman from a dangerous family like that?” Christian asked him with an exasperated look.

”Shit, I didn't even know who she was until after we slept together. If I knew I would never have done it and gotten you dragged into this mess.” he paced around the room with his fingers in his hair.

“This isn’t about guilt,” I said. “It’s about strategy. I just need to be engaged to her long enough to get my hands on the evidence and destroy it permanently.”

And then I could be free from Cassian and his threats.

Christian exhaled a soft laugh. “This is the most terrifying wedding toast I’ve ever heard.”

“No one asked for your toast,” Damien muttered.

Christian exhaled through his nose, slower. “We’re tracking where Cassian's storing the backup files. He’s not dumb—he didn’t just keep one.”

“Encrypted server,” I said. “We’ll find it. And when we do, we wipe every copy.”

“I’m on it,” Christian said. “My team’s already working leads through two data brokers and his assistant’s burner account. We’ll get it.”

Christian’s voice was cool, confident—but I caught the flicker of tension beneath it. He understood the stakes better than anyone. He was head of security for Grayson Group, and the only man I trusted with secrets deeper than our family’s.

He also knew what would happen if this didn’t work.

Damien ran a hand through his hair. “So what—your brilliant plan is to marry his daughter and make this all go away?”

“It’s not a plan,” I said. “It’s a fact. It’s going to happen.”

“And she agreed to that?”

“She didn’t object.”

“She probably didn’t have a choice,” Damien muttered.

“Neither did you,” I said coldly.

He flinched.

Christian finally cut in, his tone half-light but laced with warning. “Damien, look at him. Do you think Alexander  wanted to marry anyone let alone the daughter of that conniving fucker?”

“I don’t know, okay?” Damien snapped, then looked instantly regretful.

“She’s cold,” I said. “Calculating. Every word out of her mouth is wrapped in silk and aimed like a knife.”

Christian hummed. “Sounds familiar.”

“I don’t like her,” I added.

“Also familiar.”

“But she knows what’s at stake. So she’s not fighting it.”

Damien let out a bitter laugh. “Wow. The foundation of a healthy marriage.”

“She’ll be fine,” I said. “She knew what this was.”

“Did she?” Christian asked, softer now. “Or did she just play along because she’s as trapped in that family as you are in this deal?”

I paused.

Because even now, I could still see her face at that dinner in Boston. Perfectly composed, like she’d trained for that exact moment her entire life—and maybe she had. But there had been something behind her eyes. Something sharp. Controlled.

She hadn’t been surprised. But she hadn’t agreed either. She’d endured.

It should’ve made her forgettable. Instead, it made her an instrument of my curiosity.

Eliana Rivera was elegant, sharp, and beautiful. 

She also hated my guts as much as I hated hers, maybe even more.

And she was going to be my wife.

“She and her father get more wealth and status. We get silence,” I said. “We both play our parts. That’s all this is.”

Christian didn’t say anything for a moment. He just looked at me. Then, finally: “And if she figures out what this really cost you?”

“She won’t.”

“You underestimate her.”

“I’m not underestimating anyone,” I said, voice harder now. “This is not about her. This is about him.”

I stared at Damien.

He looked… small. Ashamed. Rightfully.

“You don’t get to be reckless anymore,” I said. “You don’t get to act like the rules don’t apply to you because you’re my brother.”

“I know,” he murmured.

“Do you?”

“Yes.” His voice cracked. “I know.”

Christian shifted in his seat. “We’re almost through Rivera's firewall. Give me a few more days, and I’ll have something actionable.”

“Good,” I said.

“Then what?” Damien asked, quietly. “Once you destroy the photos? What happens to the marriage?”

I didn’t answer.

Because even I didn’t know.

Eliana Rivera was a problem. Elegant. Controlled. And smarter than she let on. I didn’t like her, didn’t trust her, and sure as hell didn’t want to be married to her.

But I also didn’t like loose ends. And she’d just become one of the most dangerous ones I’d ever tied to my name.

“I don’t walk away from responsibility,” I said instead.

“That’s one word for it,” Christian muttered under his breath.

“I’m serious,” I said, eyeing them both. “This isn’t about optics. This is about protecting what’s ours.”

“I didn’t mean to screw it up,” Damien said again, softer this time.

I looked at him. Really looked.

And as angry as I was—as ready as I was to let him twist under the pressure—I remembered something. Him, eight years old, walking into my office barefoot with a bloody nose because he didn’t want me to find out he lost a fight. Because he thought I’d be disappointed.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” I said quietly. “But you did.”

Damien dropped his eyes.

“And now I’m going to fix it,” I added. “Even if it means marrying someone I’d rather never see again.”

Christian finally rose from his seat. “Alright. I’ll check in when I get something. And Damien?”

“Yeah?”

“Try not to be a walking PR crisis until then.”