CHAPTER 2 : HE IS ARROGANT.

ALEXANDER POV

I stormed across my penthouse, the glittering skyline of London sprawling below like a chessboard I’d already checkmated.

At twenty-four, I’d forged Kane Global into an AI empire, unapologetically out and proud in a world that still tried to cage me.

But this arranged marriage nonsense?

It was a noose tightening around my neck, threatening to choke out my secret nights with Raymond—the man I’d always dreamed of building a life with, my mentor, my everything. Everyone thought we’d be the ones to seal the deal, everyone thought we'd tie the knot, not until Grandpa’s will dropped like a grenade, shattering it all.

“Marry Enid, or kiss the inheritance goodbye,” my father’s warning echoed in my skull, each words a jab to my gut.

“Why are you still tearing yourself apart over this?” My mother’s voice cut through the choas as she stepped onto the balcony, her heels clicking softly against the marble.

I spun to face her, my chest tight with fury. "Who the fuck is this Enid, who is he and why do I have to get married to him?"I asked multiple questions at a time, my anger boiling over.

"Alex, you have to take everything into consideration so, you don't make your father angry," My mother warned, her voice calm, but it didn't calm the Storm inside of me.

"Why can't you do something about this!, Why are you letting me spend the rest of my life with a poor, lowlife, country boy!"I snapped.

My mother's eyes were on me now, telling me to calm down. "We can't do anything about this, and it's not forever, it's just temporary,"

“I want a sharp, city-slick corporate man, Mom. Not some… farm boy in jeans and boots, with shoulders like he’s been tossing hay bales his whole damn life instead of closing deals!” My voice cracked, raw with frustration.

She sighed, leaning against the railing, her eyes soft but unyielding. “Alex, it’s just twelve months, not twelve years. Trust me, he’s just some country bumpkin, and he's no match for you.”

But her words didn’t soothe the fire in my veins. “What about Raymond?” I snapped, my fingers raking through my hair, tugging hard enough to sting.

“He was furious when he heard about this arrangement. I can’t lose him, Mom—not for some lowlife nobody!”

She stepped closer, her hand hovering like she wanted to comfort me but knew better. “It’s your grandfather’s wish, Alex. You have to honor it, and talk to Raymond. Make him see it’s temporary, no strings attached.”

Temporary?

The word tasted like ash.

Raymond’s face flashed in my mind—his sharp jaw, his steady gaze, the way he made me feel like I could conquer anything.

And now this… this stranger, this country boy was about to crash into my world, threatening to ruin it all.

“You need to calm down and get ready,” Mom said suddenly, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. “He’s landing soon, and you’re meeting him at the airport.”

My jaw dropped, a cold shock slicing through me. “What the hell? He’s coming today?”

“Any minute now,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “He’ll be in the country soon, and you’re expected to welcome him.”

I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms. This farm boy was already wrecking everything, I've planned!, my plans, my future, my heart. He was making my life hell, and I swore, as the city lights burned below, that I’d make his time here just as unbearable.

ENID'S POV

I sat down in the private jet's leather seat, feeling anxious despite the calm atmosphere.

As the air hostess, made an announcement about we landing.

"Please wear your seat belt, we'll be landing soon,"

I adjusted my self into the seat calmly, as I shot my eyes closed, but my grandfather word's replayed in my head.

Cold and brutal

"Your parents’ legacy, gone."

The threat wasn’t just to me, it was to the only tether I had to the two people I’d lost too soon.

I closed my eyes, not to sleep, but to escape.

The Wild image of Alexander Kane from business magazines flickered behind my eyelids—dark hair, a smirk that promised trouble, eyes that assessed and dismissed in a single glance. A man who built empires of silicon and code, not stone and earth like I had.

A man who preferred men!?

The irony was a bitter pill, for me to swallow. He’s getting a beard, and I’m getting a cage.

The plane began its descent, the sudden drop in altitude mirroring the lurch in my stomach. England materialized below, a sprawling grid of lights that seemed chaotic and cold compared to the rolling, dark Highlands.

I got down from the plane, immediately the hostess opened the door, holding just my brief case in hand. They will sort out the rest.

The arrival gate was a blur of polished floors and echoing announcements. I walked ahead, my carry-on feeling like an anchor. My gaze swept the crowd of faceless drivers holding signs—and then it stopped.

There.....

Leaning against a pillar with an infuriating, practiced Casualness was Alexander Kane. He held a piece of cardboard with a crude, slashing script: WELCOME BUMPKIN.

A cold, sharp smile pulled at my lips. It wasn’t friendly.

It was the smile of a man spotting his opponent across a battlefield. So, the peacock decided to show his feathers.

I decided my first move would be to pretend I didn’t see them, as I adjusted my path, walking straight past him as if he were an invisible sculpture.

A hand snapped out, fingers like a vice around my bicep, yanking me to a halt. The contact was electric, a jolt of unwanted heat through the sleeve of my jacket.

“Are you fucking blind? Can you not see me standing here?” His voice was just as I’d imagined—arrogant, clipped, and dripping with disdain.

I turned slowly, feigning a calm I absolutely did not feel. I let my eyes travel over him dismissively, from his expensive-looking shoes to his perfectly styled hair. “Oh… are you Alexander?” I asked, my tone flat, bored.

His gorgeous face—and God, it was annoyingly handsome—contorted in pure fury. “Are you fucking blind!?” he repeated, louder, drawing a few glances from passersby.

I tutted softly, a sound of mock disappointment. “No curse words, please. It’s terribly common.” I extended my briefcase toward him, a passive-aggressive test.

Yes... take the bait, I dare you.

And gosh he did!

His eyes flashed with something dark and dangerous before he slapped it away. The case clattered loudly on the tile floor. The sound echoed in the sudden silence between us.

“You don’t fucking tell me what to do, Country Boy,” he snarled, each word a precisely thrown dagger.

I held his fiery gaze for a beat longer, the tension stretching taut between us.

I've Confirmed, it all. He was every bit the arrogant bastard I’d heard about.

Without another word, I bent down, my movements deliberate and unhurried, and picked up my briefcase, but I could feel his glare burning into the back of my neck.

He turned on his heel and marched away, expecting me to follow.

And Of course I did.

I fell into step behind him, my own anger a cold, hard stone in my gut. Outside, the English air was damp and biting.

He headed straight for an obnoxiously brown Porsche and slid into the passenger seat, while leaving it open for me.

A clear power play?

Get in, You’re along for my ride.

I slid into the leather seat, the interior smelling of his cologne—something expensive, spicy, and utterly infuriating.

He immediately turned his body toward the window, presenting me with the rigid line of his shoulder and the perfect cut of his jaw.

He is so darn Childish, and Petulant.

The driver, a silent specter in the front, pulled away from the curb and merged into the London traffic. The silence inside the car was a physical thing, thick and smothering.

I stared straight ahead, watching the blur of city lights, but my entire being was hyper-aware of the man next to me. The subtle shift of his weight. The quiet, frustrated sigh he didn’t quite suppress.

The need to break him, to shatter this stupid, silent treatment, was overwhelming.

And I decided to kill him with politeness.

“How are you doing?” I asked, my voice level, cutting through the quiet.

He didn’t turn, he didn't even bother to move. His reply was a low, venomous whisper aimed at the window.

“You fucking smell of grass, Bumpkin. So shut the fuck up.”