Chapter 8

THE ALEXANDER ALLIANCE

~ALEXANDER'S POV~

The ring box felt like a loaded gun in my pocket.

I stood outside ‘Dahlia’, watching through the window as Claire's driver dropped her off.

She moved with the confidence I had helped her build. She was nothing like the broken woman who had cried in my arms a year ago.

Everything about her screamed success, power, control.

Everything except her eyes.

Those still held shadows of Richard fucking Blackwood.

My phone buzzed. A text from my private investigator: ‘Blackwood Industries stock down 15% this week. Financial audit scheduled. Perfect timing.’

Perfect timing for what? Destroying my half-brother's empire? Or watching the woman I had stupidly fallen for run straight back to him?

I was uneasy about proposing. God knows I fought against it for months.

Claire had been firm about our business arrangement from the beginning. No complications, no emotions, just mutual benefit.

I had tried so damn hard to keep it that way—tried to maintain the distance, the professional act.

But there was something about Claire. Something about the woman Richard had called useless, pathetic, worthless. Every moment spent with her, I found myself captivated.

Not the revenge-seeking Claire, but ‘Claire’. The woman who made me breakfast without being asked.

Who dragged me out of late-night office hours just to grab dinner because she had thought of a new idea.

The same Claire I had made love to despite our no-strings deal.

I hadn't expected to fall first.

Twenty-eight years ago, Thomas Blackwood fucked his secretary and paid her to disappear.

That secretary was my mother, Elena Hayes—brilliant, beautiful, and naive enough to believe a married billionaire would leave his wife for her.

He gave her a check and a one-way ticket to Switzerland. Told her to "handle the problem" or he would make sure she never worked again.

My mother was too proud to abort me and too ashamed to come home. She raised me alone in Geneva, working herself to death to give me the best education money could buy.

Never told me who my father was until the cancer took her voice.

"Alexander," she had whispered from her hospital bed, "you have a brother. Richard Blackwood. He got everything that should have been yours."

She died three days later.

When I had walked into Eleanor's party that night, I had my mind set on destroying everything that belonged to the Blackwoods.

For all the pain and suffering they had caused my mother and me. Thomas Blackwood's bastard son—yes, that's what I am.

The one he refused to acknowledge.

Richard had been living the life that should have been mine.

I had built my wealth from the ground up, made sure the world knew my name.

But when I learned about the great, favored son Richard Blackwood's divorce circling the internet—how he had thrown away his wife for his secret lover, his wife's own friend—I knew I had found the perfect victim to use against my brother.

My plan was simple: meet Claire, use my charm on what I had heard was an easy woman, then use her to take my revenge on Richard and discard her once I was done.

But the woman I met was different. Broken, yes, but different. I wasn't normally the type to be taken by a woman, but Claire was stunning.

The way she tried to hold herself together despite the whispers around her.

And when she suggested a private talk... Christ, I had lost control. Pinned her against the couch and kissed her like an animal.

I wouldn't have done that normally—I would have asked permission from any woman I planned on bedding. But with her, I felt something I couldn't control.

How could Richard have let her go? How could he have said love from this woman was suffocating? I wanted to know what love given from her felt like.

But when she kissed me back and then broke into sobs, I pulled away, hating myself for giving her the wrong impression.

Claire Elizabeth Winfred wouldn't gladly let herself be forcefully kissed by another man, especially one who had just told her he was related to Richard by blood.

Claire had eyes for one man, and that man was my shitty half-brother.

That made me angry in a way I shouldn't have been. I didn't know this woman apart from the little information Collins had gathered.

But Claire surprised me.

She told me her real reason for approaching me. How bold—her body and actions screamed revenge, but her eyes gave her away.

She was lying. She still loved Richard. Too weak for her own good.

I should have turned away, told her to find someone else to fund her stupid revenge fantasy. She was the one at fault for letting her friend take her man.

But like a fool, I was taken by her eyes, by her beauty, by everything that screamed ‘Claire’.

I said yes, gave her hope, and watched her eyes light up like I had handed her candy. She was beautiful—broken but beautifully broken—and I wanted her.

Of course, I hadn't strayed from my own plan. But I would keep Claire, maybe like a consolation prize when I watched Richard and Blackwood Industries crumble.

One year had passed.

Claire had been determined, outshining all my expectations. Gaining love and respect everywhere she went.

I never expected that Claire—the same Claire who had walked out of Richard's office crying into my arms—was the same Claire now closing business deals, throwing exclusive parties, speaking three languages like it was effortless.

Her transformation shook me.

And just like that, I found myself falling.

I tried avoiding it—going on dates, sleeping with different women—but there was only one woman who haunted my dreams.

The woman now in my arms. My fiancée, thanks to Marie's advice about stopping hiding behind business deals and friendship.

I had decided to take that step and propose.

I wanted the world to know that Claire Winfred was mine.

"Claire." I forced myself to kneel, to open the box, to say the words I'd rehearsed. "Will you marry me?"

The silence stretched between us like an abyss. I watched her face cycle through surprise, confusion, something that might have been panic.

"Alexander, I don't understand. We agreed…."

"Fuck what we agreed." I stood, the ring box still open between us. "I'm in love with you."

The words tasted like truth and lies simultaneously. I did love her—God help me, I loved her more than I had ever loved anything.

But I also needed her.

Needed her to be mine when we returned to New York. Needed Richard to see what he had lost.

"I know this started as business," I continued, stepping closer. "But it's real now. ‘You're’ real."

Her breath caught. For a moment, I thought she might say no. Might see through me to the bastard son using her pain for his own revenge.

Then she whispered, "Yes."

Relief and triumph warred in my chest as I slipped the ring onto her finger. She was mine now. Mine to protect, mine to love, mine to use against the brother who had stolen my birthright.

But when I kissed her, when I felt her respond without truly responding, I knew the truth.

She had said yes to the ring. Not to me.

"So what do you want to do now?" I pulled Claire from my embrace, my fingers twisting with hers where my proposal ring sat.

Claire glanced at her watch. "Well, I thought you wanted dinner, not a proposal, so I still have an hour before my photoshoot."

"Always busy," I teased, nudging her shoulder as we made our way out of the restaurant.

Claire smiled, raising her hand to stare at the ring. But it wasn't a genuine smile—it was one of those forced ones I had learned to recognize.

"Do you love it?" I asked.

"It's beautiful," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

"You deserve the best." I lifted her chin, staring into her eyes. "I love you."

Her brows furrowed slightly, and my heart cracked.

But I kissed her anyway, grabbing her waist and pulling her into my arms, kissing her with all the passion I felt and she couldn't return.

****************

Later, after I had made love to her with desperate passion, Claire stood in front of our floor-to-ceiling window in her purple robe, an empty champagne glass in her hand, staring at the lake beyond our mansion.

I watched her from the bed. She had been quiet since we had returned from the restaurant.

Slipping on my own robe, I carried a bottle of wine toward her.

"Enjoying the view?" I asked.

"I could never get used to seeing this." She lifted her head, her bob still wet from the shower but still beautiful.

"It's magical."

I poured her a glass of wine, then drank straight from the bottle as I stared at the lake twinkling under the moonlight.

"We'll be leaving for New York soon," I said finally.

Claire turned to stare at me, processing the information. I hadn't planned for it to happen this soon either.

"I wasn't expecting us to leave so soon," she said.

"I hadn't expected it either. But Blackwood Industries is going through a financial crisis. They're at risk of bankruptcy. Now's the best time to return. The best time to get my revenge."

Claire drank her champagne in one gulp. I could see her body trembling.

I wrapped my arms around her, kissing her neck. "Are you scared? Do you not want to return?"

She was quiet. I hoped she would say yes—that would assure me she no longer loved Richard or wanted this revenge.

But she pulled away, a smile plastered across her lips.

"This is what I've been getting ready for this past year. There's no going back."

My heart broke, but I smiled. "And you're ready?"

Claire nodded, but her hands were shaking as she reached for the wine glass. And when she thought I wasn't looking, she touched the ring like it was a chain.

"We need to start planning our arrival. I need to call Marcus."

"Take it easy….."

But she was already out of the bedroom.

I stood in front of the window, staring at the lake and drinking from the bottle in my hand. My other hand rested in my robe pocket.

An hour later, she was on the phone with Marcus, planning our return with military accuracy.

I watched from the doorway as she transformed back into the Claire the world knew—confident, controlled, unstoppable.

But I had seen the crack in her armor. The moment of vulnerability when she had realized she was about to face the man who had destroyed her.

I pulled out my phone and typed a message to Collins: ‘Accelerate the timeline. I want detailed reports on Richard's whereabouts, his routines, his weaknesses. Everything.’

Then I added: ‘And keep tabs on Monica Hayes. If she's still in the picture, I want to know about it.’

"Richard," I spoke to the darkness. "You're not taking her. I won't give her to you easily."

Claire Winfred and I would destroy anyone who dared to take her from me.

But as I watched her silhouette moving through the house, making calls and planning our return, I wondered if I was the one who had already lost her.

She was going back to him. And despite everything we had built, despite the ring on her finger, I knew the truth.

I was just a means to an end. A weapon in her war against the man she had never stopped loving.

Claire wanted her revenge. Fine. I would give her that and more.

But I would also be there to catch her when she realized revenge couldn't heal a broken heart. When she discovered that destroying Richard wouldn't make her love me.

I was Thomas Blackwood's bastard son. I had learned early that sometimes love meant taking what you needed, even if it destroyed you in the process.

Especially then.

The game was about to begin. And this time, I wouldn't let anyone—not Richard, not Claire's misguided heart, not even Claire herself—take away what was mine.

The bastard son, once again, getting the scraps of what should have been his.

Even if I had to break her to keep her.