MARRIED TO MY ARROGANT ENEMY

ENID'S POV

“Marriage? To a man?” I asked, my voice cracking in disbelief.

The mug slipped from my hand and shattered against the marble floor, coffee spilling across the floor like the wreck of my life.

Grandpa didn’t even flinch. From his worn leather chair, he looked at me with those sharp, steel eyes that never softened. “Alexander Kane,” he said flatly, sliding a yellowed document toward me. “Twenty years ago, I arranged your marriage to him. You’ll merge Voss Industries with Kane Global.”

"Grandpa, I’m straight! This is bullshit!”I retorted

His gaze didn’t waver, didn’t even flicker. “Business doesn’t give a damn about who you bed, boy. Alexander is gay, but at the same time, he is the key to burying our rivals for good.” His voice was cold, final, the voice that had closed deals and shattered competitors.

I balled my fists, the heat of my anger a stark contrast to the ice solidifying in my veins. “You’re kidding, right?” I forced the question out, a desperate, foolish hope.

He sucked his teeth in a sound of pure disgust. “Stop making a scene, Enid, stop letting your emotions rule you. You’re better than this.”

I tore my eyes from him, staring into the flickering hearth of our Scottish manor. The flames danced, but their warmth couldn’t touch the deep freeze spreading through me.

At twenty-five, I thought I had my life perfectly planned. I ran a huge business from my rural home, dated beautiful women casually, and had total control over my life.

Straightforward, that’s how I liked it.

And he was repaying my lifetime of loyalty with this?

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, grandpa, but I’ll never marry him,” I snapped, my voice rising despite my effort to control it. “Never.”

“Why?” he asked, his tone shifting, becoming deceptively calm, unlike before . “You prefer women?”

“Just stop!” The plea was sharp, too high, too raw. “I have a life to live, Grandpa! I’m planning my future, and you’re—why are you doing this?”

He rose slowly, his bones creaking, and for a fleeting second, he was just an old man. “I didn’t do this, Enid. Your parents did, and I’m… saddened they aren’t here to explain it to you.” He took a deliberate step toward me. “I only want what’s best for you. Nothing more.”

My parents?

The blow was low and brutal.

I was Orphaned at eight by a godawful car wreck. This manor, this life, him—they were all I had left of them. The quiet of the Scottish Highlands was my sanctuary, the one place their ghosts didn't scream too loudly.

“Their death was sudden,” he continued, his voice softening proving more effective than his anger. “And I know you suspect a lot about that night. Don’t you think you should honor them? I’m sure they wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

The manipulation was masterful, weaving my deepest vulnerabilities into his business strategy. My rage curdled into a sick, helpless frustration.

I’d heard things about Alexander Kane, the rumors painted a picture of a man who was loud, unbearably arrogant, and completely infatuated with himself.

And he was gay!

The entire situation was a farce.

“Go live with him in England,” Grandpa said, the command now a negotiated term. “For twelve months, a probation. If there’s no connection, if it’s truly impossible… I promise I’ll nullify the contract.”

A thread of hope, so thin it was almost cruel. A year was an eternity, but it was an exit.

A possibility.

“And if I refuse?” I asked, my defiance a last, weak stand.

His eyes hardened back into flint. “Then the boards will swoops in. The shareholders will pick the carcass of this company clean, and your parents' legacy… it vanishes. All gone! ”

The silence in the room was deafening, and I could almost hear the gleeful whispers of our rivals, the ticking clock of a hostile takeover. I had built this, protected it from the shadows. To let it crumble now was unthinkable.

"Fine!"

The word was a snarl in my mind. I didn’t trust myself to speak it aloud. I just turned on my heel and stormed out, pushing through the heavy oak door and into the biting Scottish night.

The cold air hit my heated skin like a slap, doing nothing to cool the tempest inside me.

I couldn’t run, I had to face it.

I shoved open the door to my private lounge. Jax, my personal assistant, was there, standing stiffly by the fireplace.

His eyes were wide, guilty.

“Sir,” he began, his voice tense. “What are we going to do?”

A bitter, disbelieving laugh escaped me. I advanced on him, stopping just short, my anger finding a new target. “You knew! You knew about this all along. Why didn’t you tell me? Why the fuck did you keep this from me?”

Jax dropped his gaze to the floor, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, it's your grandfather… he insisted, for me not to tell you.”

“Oh, fuck,” I breathed, the fight draining out of me as quickly as it came. I slumped onto the plush sofa, burying my face in my hands. The weight of it all was suffocating.

Of course, I was leaving today, because I didn’t need to ask.

The evidence was sitting by the door, there are two sleek, black suitcases, packed and ready.

All this wasn’t a discussion; it was an execution.

This was going to be a long year.

A dread-filled question echoed in the silent room, a question I was too exhausted to voice but couldn’t stop from thinking.

Would an arrogant, preening peacock of a man be the one to meet me at the airport?