The General's contract Bride

"If you puke on your shoes,you're officially on your own"I glared at the blunt words from mia on my screen

I swallowed a nervous laugh, typing back quickly. 

Grace-If he arrests me for being awkward, please feed my dad's fish. 

Mia-If he catches me spying, tell my mother I died doing what I love. You look stunning. Put the phone down. 

I smiled,mia was my bestfriend,the total opposite of me,she is lively,cheerful,BOLD

Everything I am not

She insisted on following me to the date to be my secret anchor of which I was grateful for because if I was alone, I would have turn back and run home before stepping my foot into that restaurant 

She is exactly what i need in times when i am overwhelmed with anxiety 

Times like now 

Because I am about to meet with the most feared,respected,youngest and honored General 

They say he can shut the mouth of reporters just with his stare

They say he has never lost a mission he has embarked on

A Four star General 

General Alexander Reeves 

I set my phone face-down on the pristine white tablecloth. 

5:58 PM. 

My chest felt unusually tight. The deep blue silk dress Mia had forced me to buy hugged my ribs, making it slightly hard to breathe, though the sheer panic coursing through my veins wasn't helping either. 

*Why did I agree to this?* 

Because my father asked me to. Because his failing heart was a ticking clock, and his five-year friendship with Richard Reeves had convinced him that Richard's son was the only man capable of protecting me when he was gone. 

I have never met Richards son before 

Hever was hardly in the country 

The piano music in the restaurant was soft, a gentle hum over the clinking of expensive silverware. 

Then, exactly at 6:00 PM, the atmosphere violently shifted. 

I didn’t even look at the heavy glass doors, but I felt it. The low, polite chatter near the hostess stand simply vanished. A waiter walking past my table physically stuttered his step. 

The air in the room grew suddenly, terrifyingly heavy. 

I slowly lifted my head. 

A tall man in a flawlessly tailored, charcoal-gray suit had just stepped into the dining room. He had no bodyguards. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to. 

General Alexander Reeves. 

He was massive. Six-foot-four, with broad shoulders that seemed to block out the light. His dark hair was neatly combed, his jaw carved from unyielding granite. 

He scanned the restaurant exactly once. His glacial, storm-gray eyes locked directly onto my booth. 

He found me. 

My breath caught. I couldn't look away. 

He walked toward me with the calm, measured, lethal discipline of a man who commanded armies. Every movement was controlled. 

My body reacted on pure instinct as if it was designed to react to this particular pheromone(Pure Alpha pheromone). As he reached the table, I stood up, my silver heels scraping slightly against the marble floor.I hid my trembling hands under the table.

God why am I reacting like this

"Miss Zane," he said. 

His deep, gravelly voice vibrated straight through the air and directly into my chest. 

"G-General Reeves," I managed to say. My voice shook. I hated it, but I couldn't stop it. 

He didn't smile. His sharp eyes tracked the fierce blush spreading across my cheeks. 

Without a single word, Alexander stepped forward, reached past me, and gently pulled out my chair. 

I blinked, completely stunned. 

"Thank you," I whispered, sinking back down. 

He gave a short, rigid nod, walked to the opposite side of the booth, and took his seat. 

My phone vibrated violently against the tablecloth. 

I didn't have to turn it over to know it was Mia screaming from behind her lilies. 

A waiter approached our table. The poor man was standing entirely too stiffly, his hands visibly shaking as he held his notepad. 

"W-Would you like to order, sir?" the waiter squeaked. 

Alexander closed his menu. He hadn't even opened it. 

"I will have the grilled salmon," he stated bluntly. 

The waiter turned his panicked, wide eyes to me. 

I offered a soft, reassuring smile, trying to project the calm energy the waiter desperately needed. "I'll have the creamy mushroom pasta, please."

"And bring a pot of chamomile tea," Alexander added. 

My head snapped up. 

*Chamomile tea?* The universal remedy for anxiety. 

"Right away, General," the waiter stammered, fleeing the table as if he had just escaped a war zone. 

Silence settled between us. Heavy. Intimidating. 

Alexander folded his large, calloused hands neatly on the table. He looked directly at me. It wasn't a judgment. It was pure, unfiltered observation. 

"I've heard a lot about you," I blurted out.

Alexander slowly met my gaze. "I imagine most of what you heard wasn't flattering."

A nervous, breathy laugh escaped my lips. "You're very honest."

"I dislike pretending," he answered. 

Simple. Absolute. 

I twisted the fabric of my napkin under the table, my heart hammering. "My father speaks very highly of you. He and your father..."

"Have been friends for five years. Yes," Alexander finished smoothly. "Richard speaks highly of Daniel as well."

"Is that... is that why you agreed to meet me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I tried to maintain eye contact, trying so hard to be brave, but his storm-gray eyes were so intense, so piercing, that my courage instantly began to crumble. 

Alexander's gray eyes darkened slightly. 

"I do not do things simply because I am asked, Miss Zane."

The words hung in the heavy air between us. 

I swallowed hard, immediately dropping my gaze to the pristine white tablecloth. My cheeks burned with a fierce, unmistakable blush. I felt entirely small under his commanding presence. 

"Then..." I stammered, my fingers trembling as I picked at my napkin. "Why did you come?"

For the first time all evening, the rigid tension in his broad shoulders shifted just a fraction. He leaned forward slightly, his massive frame seeming to swallow all the oxygen in my immediate vicinity. 

"Because," Alexander said, his deep, gravelly voice dropping into a low register that sent a traitorous shiver straight down my spine. "I wanted to see if the reality matched the intelligence report."