CHAPTER 4: MISERABLE LIFE'S.

ENID'S POV

The next morning, I woked up the sun hitting my face, same way Alex hits my guts so bad.

I rolled over, the expensive Egyptian cotton sheets and sat on the edge of the bed. I dragged my hands down my face, the rough stubble a grounding sensation in this unreal situation.

My temples throbbed with a low, frustrated ache.

And just then, the sharp click of the door opening shattered the quiet,and I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Alex of course.

He stormed into the room as if he owned every atom in it, and right now, he's acting like he owned the oxygen in my borrowed room.

“Get your ass up, Bumpkin!” Alexander’s voice was a wrath in room.

I finally turned my head, meeting his gaze. He was still in the dark silk pajamas he wore last night, the fabric clinging to his guilded frame in a way that was annoyingly elegant.

I his hands, he held a tablet like a scepter.

“I think you have to learn the manners of knocking before entering a person’s private space,” I replied, my voice low and still rough with sleep. I made a point of not moving an inch.

“And I think you need to learn the habit of punctuality when you’re a guest in someone else’s house!” he snapped back, his grey eyes flashing.

A guest?

Right! More like a prisoner of war.

I was about to swing my legs off the bed when he suddenly flung the tablet he was holding. It sailed through the air, clipping my elbow with a dull thud before bouncing on the mattress beside me. And this casual violence of the gesture sent a fresh jolt of anger straight to my core.

“That’s today’s schedule, Bumpkin, Memorize it before we leave,” he commanded, his tone absolute.

I let out a long, slow sigh, a way to cool down the anger boiling down my chest. I stood up, deliberately adjusting my cotton pajamas, as I walked to the tall mirror, my reflection showing a man trying hard to appear unbothered. “As far as I’m concerned, Alex, you never gave me a schedule.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” he shot back, incredulous.

I turned away from the mirror and walked toward the ensuite bathroom, my movements deliberately slow and dismissive. “How about you hand over the tablet like a civilized human being? Then, I’ll agree to look at it.”

He let out a short, derisive chuckle. “And why can’t you just pick it up from the bed like a normal person?”

Challenge accepted.

I ignored him completely.

I opened my briefcase, the familiar action a small comfort, and pulled out my toothbrush and toothpaste. I stepped into the bathroom, turned on the tap, and began brushing my teeth with meticulous focus, my eyes fixed on my reflection in the mirror.

The steady, rhythmic sound of the toothbrush on my teeth filled the space. I was a rock in the river of his anger, and he could rage all he wanted and I wouldn’t be moved.

“Oh, you’re fucking kidding me, right?” he slammed his hand against the doorframe. The vibration traveled through the wall, but I just kept brushing, rinsing, spitting. Acting as if he were nothing more than a mosquito buzzing in my ears.

When I was done, I walked back into the bedroom, wiping my mouth with a towel.

And lo is he was still there, his chest rising and falling with barely contained rage. It seemed he was finally about to leave, but he had to get the last word. A man like him always did.

“You know what? We’ll see who laughs last,” he seethed, the threat hanging in the air like smoke before he finally stormed out, slamming the door so hard a painting on the wall rattled.

The sudden silence was deafening. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, and my eyes fell on the offending tablet, lieing uncounciously on the bed.

I picked it up, my fingers curling tightly around its edges, and dropped it onto the nightstand with a dismissive clatter without even glancing at the screen.

I would deal with him, but on my terms, steadily.

And just then my phone rang, the shrill ring of my phone sliced through the tension, as I glanced at the screen.

Grandpa!?

My knuckles turned white around the device, as I stare at the landscape Outside my window.

He was the reason of this fresh hell. I watched the call go to voiceman, my jaw clenched so tight it ached, but he didn't give up. He called again immediately, his persistence a special kind of torture.

I let that one go to voicemail, too, because I was in no mood for his placating, guilt-tripping word's.

A moment later, Jax’s name flashed on the screen, and I accepted the call, pressing the phone to my ear. “Why haven’t you sent my clothes down here?” I asked, forgoing any greeting.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” Jax’s voice came through, tinny and apologetic. “The security here is a different beast. The courier had to go through three different checkpoints and a full scan. It was a nightmare.”

Actually, i asked Jax to stay back and put an eye on the company, while he gives me detailed feedback.

“I don’t care about the nightmares, Jax. I need my clothes. Get them to send it to me. I’ll text you the address,” I said, my tone leaving no room for further apology before I ended the call.

Just then, a series of loud, angry bangs and the muffled sound of shouting echoed from somewhere deeper in the penthouse.

It was him, Of course it was.

What is he breaking now?

ALEXANDER’S POV

I slammed my bedroom door shut me , the sound echoing satisfyingly through the room. My blood was practically boiling in my veins, a hot, restless energy demanding an outlet.

That country bumpkin, that entitled, condescending farmer.

Who the hell did he think he was, dismissing me in my own home?

I needed to put him in his place, to show him his temporary status here was conditional on my tolerance, a resource he was rapidly depleting.

But my father, David, the nose poker was a chain around my ankle. He wanted this merger, this farce of a marriage, with a fervor that overshadowed everything else.

That infuriating man…

I raked my fingers through my hair, pacing the length of my room like a caged panther.

My phone buzzed on the dresser, a lifeline, as I snatched it up, immediately.

It's Raymond.

My stomach did a familiar, thrilling flip that was immediately followed by a sickening drop of dread.

“Hey…” I muttered, trying to sound calm and unaffected.

“So, that’s it?” Raymond’s voice was cold, sharp as shattered glass. “You’re really getting married to some backwoods country boy?”

He knows... Of course he knows.

“Ray… listen to me, It’s not real. It’s a contract, a business arrangement, and It’ll be over before anyone even remembers it started, I promise,” I pleaded, hearing the desperate edge in my own voice.

“Oh, shut the crap up, Alex!” he hissed. “When you’re married to him, what happens to us? Huh? How are we supposed to meet? How are we supposed to do anything? You think I’m going to be your dirty little secret you hide from your husband?”

The word ‘husband’ sounded like a curse coming from his mouth. “We can still do everything, Ray. He’s a nobody, a placeholder, and he can’t do a damn thing about you, about us. We’re real, This,” I said, gesturing wildly to the empty room, “is just paperwork.”

The silence on the other end was heavier than any shouting. “I don’t believe a word of this shit you’re selling, Alex. Just… fuck you, Alex, and Fuck you both.”

The line went dead.

Fuck!

I stared at the phone, a cold numbness spreading through me. I had spent years carefully building a life, crafting a person that could have it all—the empire, the power, the man I actually wanted.

And now this one stubborn, blue-eyed obstacle was going to tear it all down without even trying.

This couldn’t happen, I wouldn’t let it.

I need to break him, I need to make his life here so miserable that he runs back to his Scottish fields and never looks back.

I need to do everything within my powers, to bring him down.