CHAPTER 3: THE MAN BEHIND THE NAME

“Why is Mr. Reagan not here yet?” Rivera asked one of her attendants a while later when her host failed to show up.

“Impatient?” a deep baritone voice teased from behind her.

She turned around sharply. The man standing behind her was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen.

It was him indeed, the man whose face had dominated the billboards all over the city, only now, standing before her in flesh and blood. She realized how poorly those digital images had captured him. They were a pale, flat imitation of the man in the flesh.

He had god-like features; sharp cheekbones, perfectly sculpted lips and cold grey eyes that seemed to see straight through her. He was dressed in tailored trousers and a black silk shirt with the top buttons undone.

His skin had a bronzed, healthy glow that seemed impossible for a man who had supposedly spent two years in a cell. His tall, broad frame screamed power and dominance. Rivera found herself momentarily frozen and staring at him.

“Reagan Royce?” she asked breathlessly.

He nodded slowly, A lazy, arrogant smirk tugged at the corner of his perfectly sculpted lips.

This man... is my husband?

She felt an involuntary shiver race down her spine, a confusing cocktail of pure, unadulterated fear and a sudden, violent spark of attraction that she absolutely loathed herself for feeling.

She hadn’t expected this. She had imagined wealth, yes, cold money, influence, status, but not this. Not a man whose presence alone made it difficult to breathe.

Reagan smiled inwardly in triumph. This reaction was familiar. He always had this effect on people, especially women. Still, there was something oddly satisfying about seeing it work on her.

And now that he was closer, he realized she wasn’t plain at all. On the contrary, Rivera Royce was strikingly beautiful. She was what people described as an exotic beauty with her long wavy hair and expressive green eyes.

Her beauty was a sharp contrast to the polished, plastic socialites he usually dealt with. He's got a pretty wife and that would look good on his social status, but beyond that, he would have no more use for a wife.

He dismissed the attendants with a subtle wave of his hand, then casually took the seat beside her, crossing one leg over the other.

“You look like you have a thousand questions,” he remarked.

“You bet! I think we should start with proper introductions. It’s our first time meeting, despite the fact that we’ve been married for two years.” She didn't try to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

“That won’t be necessary." He sounded flat, and her ego took a hit. It was almost insulting how he dismissed her before even hearing her point. How could he show so little interest in his own wife?

Nonchalance seemed to be one thing he had in common with his best friend, but he was obviously more obnoxious than Luke. Luke had been distant, Reagan was outright dismissive.

“I’m curious about something,” Rivera stubbornly maintained, as she straightened her posture.

“Luke mentioned you were in prison in Italy during the two years of our marriage. I figured that not many people knew that. I won’t ask how you ended up there, but I want to know why you chose me.”

She leaned forward, searching his eyes. “You don't seem like the type to do things randomly. There had to be a catch.”

Reagan studied her quietly before responding.

“You're right, I had my reservations about marriage. I didn’t want to marry at the time, but the situation required it and I trusted my father to find me someone suitable who is capable of keeping my secret.”

He didn't sound too evasive this time and Rivera was relieved that perhaps they're getting somewhere.

"If you trusted me to keep your jail time a secret from the public, then you should have told me the whole truth. Instead, you deceived me. You handed me to your best friend and both of you mocked me by lying to my face every day for two years," she snapped.

“I doubt telling you would have changed anything." His arrogant tone had returned and Rivera's eyes blazed with anger.

“Are you saying you assumed you had completely bought my willpower with your money?”

He leaned forward suddenly, invading her space, his face inches from hers. The scent of him, something expensive and masculine, swirled around her, making her heart skip.

“Well, have I not?” he said softly, dangerously.

Their eyes locked. For a heartbeat too long, Rivera forgot her anger. His gaze was intense and she felt herself slipping. She felt this dangerous pull towards him.

That was when she realized he wasn’t just using his money to sweep things under the carpet, he was using his charm and for a moment there, it almost worked.

She snapped out of it abruptly, standing up and stepping back. She needed space to breathe, to think.

“No, you haven't. I married you because you saved my family, and I’ll always be grateful for that. But you had no right to strip me of my choice. You should have told me the conditions of this marriage, so I'd decide for myself if I wanted this.”

Rivera knew that some powerful men prefer wives whose silence could be bought, who wouldn't have the social standing to cause a scandal, and who would be grateful enough to stay exactly where they put them.

But she was simply not that kind of girl. Her background may be humble, but she wasn't, if only he knew.

Reagan didn't speak. He just watched her with a cold, steady interest. He liked the way her eyes lit up when she was angry. The anger was a contrast to his expectations of her reactions when they would meet. He had expected his wealth, looks and charm to intimidate her into surrender. But she wasn't that easy.

After a long moment, he stood up and walked toward her.

"I found myself in a situation where marriage was the only thing that could protect my reputation.”

"You're still only talking about how it benefited you. What about me?" she pointed out.

It didn't look like she'd get any apologies out of him, especially since he thinks that he had bought her with his money.

"Trust me, it had more to do with you than you know," he told her.

"What are you talking about?"

"You wanted the truth but trust me, you won't be able to handle it."

“Try me,” she challenged, her chin lifting. “I think I’ve earned the right to know what I’m actually involved in.”

"Once you know it, there will be no going back. You won't just be my wife, you'll become my accomplice. He leaned in, his lips hovering just an inch from hers, the tension between them stretched to a breaking point. "Do you still want to know?"