006. Motive...

Helena's eyes fluttered open to sunlight streaming through her bedroom curtains. For a blissful moment, she forgot everything… the engagement party, the public humiliation… Alexander Grant.

Then her phone buzzed on the nightstand, shattering that peace.

She grabbed it, squinting at the screen. Notifications flooded in: texts, emails, and social media alerts. Her heart sank as she opened the first news article.

"Alexander Grant and Helena Reynolds: Is This Engagement Real or a Publicity Stunt?"

The article was accompanied by photos from last night. Helena cringed as she scrolled through them. In every single picture, she and Alexander looked stiff and awkward. Their body language screamed "strangers forced together", not "couple in love".

"Sources close to the Reynolds family suggest the engagement was announced without prior planning," one article read. "Body language experts note the lack of chemistry between Grant and Reynolds, leading many to believe this is a marriage of convenience."

"Damn it," Helena muttered, scrolling faster. T*****r was even worse, filled with speculation and mockery.

@NYCSocialite: That engagement looked FAKE. Nobody kisses their fiancé's hand like that unless they're acting #HelenaReynolds #AlexanderGrant

@GossipGirlNYC: Did anyone else notice how uncomfortable they looked together? This screams contract marriage. 👀

Helena's stomach twisted. This wasn't going to work if people didn't believe them. Michael and Victoria would use this against her, claiming she was trying to manipulate the inheritance through a fake marriage.

She needed to fix this… fast.

Helena pulled up Alexander's contact and hit call before she could second-guess herself.

He answered on the second ring. "Helena. I was wondering when you'd call."

"Have you seen the news?" she asked without preamble.

"I have."

"And? You're not concerned that everyone thinks we're faking this?"

"Should I be?" His voice was maddeningly calm.

"Yes! If my family challenges the marriage as fraudulent, I could lose everything. We need to convince people that this is real."

There was a pause. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Wait, I didn't give you my…" But he'd already hung up.

Helena stared at her phone. How did he know where she lived?

—

True to his word, Alexander arrived exactly twenty minutes later. Helena opened the door to find him looking infuriatingly perfect in a casual black sweater and jeans.

"How did you know my address?" she demanded as he stepped inside.

"I have my resources." Alexander glanced around her modest apartment, which was a far cry from the Reynolds family mansion. "Nice place."

"It's not much, but it's mine," Helena said defensively. "I bought it with money from a trust fund my grandfather set up, separate from the company."

"I wasn't criticising." He turned to face her, and Helena was struck again by how intense his gaze was. "Show me the articles."

She handed him her phone, watching as he scrolled through the damning photos and commentary. His expression remained neutral, completely unfazed by the media circus.

"You're awfully calm about this," Helena observed, crossing her arms. "Why aren't you worried?"

"Because I've dealt with worse press." He handed back her phone. "Besides, we can fix this easily."

"How?" Helena began pacing, her mind racing through possible solutions. "We need to convince people we're in love, not just business partners. We need chemistry, authenticity, something that makes them believe…"

"Helena."

"...and we need to be seen together more, doing couple things, but not too staged because that'll look fake too…"

"Helena."

"...maybe we should hire a PR team? No, that'll leak. We need to…"

"Helena!" Alexander's voice cut through her spiralling thoughts. "Stop."

She froze mid-pace, turning to look at him. He was watching her with that same unreadable expression.

"Why did you agree to this?" The question burst out before she could stop it. "To marry me, I mean. You don't know me. You have nothing to gain from this. There has to be a reason."

Alexander was silent for a long moment. "Does there?"

"Everyone has motives," Helena said, thinking of Michael, of Victoria, of her parents. "Everyone wants something. So what do you want?"

"Maybe I just want to help you."

"Nobody helps people out of pure altruism. Not in my experience." She stepped closer, searching his face for any hint of deception. "I need to know I can trust you. That you won't double-cross me like…" She stopped herself.

"Like??" Alexander finished softly.

Helena's jaw clenched. "Don't worry. After I get what I want, I'll give you 80% of my shares. Whatever your endgame is, you'll be compensated."

"I don't want your shares."

"Then what do you want?"

"What do you want, Helena?" Alexander countered, his grey-blue eyes locked on hers. "What are you really after? Revenge? Justice? Your inheritance?"

The question hung between them. Helena wanted to tell him everything… about being murdered, about being reborn, about her plans to destroy Michael and Victoria. 

But the words stuck in her throat. She barely knew this man. How could she trust him with her darkest secrets?

"I want what's mine," she said finally. "That's all."

Alexander studied her for another long moment, and Helena had the uncomfortable feeling he could see right through her carefully constructed walls.

"I was serious when I said I would marry you," he said quietly. "And I'm not going to back out on my word. You can trust me, Helena. Even if you don't believe that yet."

Silence fell between them. 

They stared at each other, and Helena felt something shift in the air between them, something electric, dangerous, and intoxicating. 

The way Alexander looked at her made her feel exposed, vulnerable, like he could see every thought racing through her mind.

He smirked suddenly, as though he'd heard those very thoughts.

"What?" Helena demanded, feeling heat creep up her neck.

"I don't know what's going on in that pretty head of yours," Alexander said, his voice dropping lower, "but that shade of pink on your cheeks looks really good."

Helena's face flamed hotter. "I'm not… I don't…" She cleared her throat, desperately trying to regain her composure. "We need to focus on the task at hand. On fixing this PR disaster."

She turned away from him, walking toward the window to escape his penetrating gaze. Her reflection in the glass showed exactly what he'd teased her about; her cheeks were indeed flushed pink.

She heard his footsteps behind her and felt his presence before he even touched her. Then his hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of auburn hair away from her face.

Helena's breath caught. 

She turned slowly to face him, finding herself inches away from his chest. This close, she could see the flecks of blue in his grey eyes and could smell his cologne… something expensive and woodsy that made her head spin.

"W-what are you doing?" she stuttered, hating how breathless she sounded.

Alexander didn't answer; he didn't move back. Instead, his eyes drifted briefly to her lips before returning to meet her gaze. The intensity there made her knees weak.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. "Do you know that?"

Helena remained frozen in place, her heart hammering against her ribs. 

She should step back… should put distance between them. 

But a traitorous part of her didn't want to move. A part of her wanted to know what would happen if she stayed right where she was.

Alexander's hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing her jawline with devastating gentleness. Helena's eyes fluttered closed despite herself, anticipating what was coming.

Then his lips met hers.