Page 3 of Arranged with Twins

Leo

T he armored SUV cuts through Manhattan’s late-night traffic, its reinforced windows filtering the city’s neon glare into something softer and more manageable. I settle into the leather seat and accept the dossier Ilya places in my hands. It feels substantial and important.

Ilya speaks clearly and confidently. “Those are Vincent Cooper’s financial records from the past eighteen months. The public face looks stable enough, but underneath...”

I flip open the folder and scan the first page of numbers. Revenue streams that once flowed like rivers now trickle. Offshore investments that promised expansion instead delivered catastrophic losses. Hidden debts compound monthly while Vincent scrambles to maintain the illusion of prosperity.

The second page makes my jaw clench. There are loan documents from sources I don’t recognize, repayment schedules that would strain even a healthy business, and promissory notes with terms that suggest desperation rather than strategy.

Vincent Cooper, the man who once commanded respect across three boroughs, has been reduced to borrowing money from shadows.

“How long has he been operating like this?”

Ilya shifts in his seat, and the fine leather creaks softly. “Eight months, or maybe longer. The energy market collapse in Eastern Europe wiped out his primary revenue stream. He’s been covering losses with private loans ever since, and those loans come with strings attached.”

I study the numbers again, looking for patterns and clues about what Vincent might have promised in return for this financial lifeline. Desperate men make reckless choices, and in my world, reckless choices often prove fatal.

Debt is bad news, but I have some of my own.

The debt I owe Vincent Cooper is personal, though, not financial.

When my parents were assassinated nineteen years ago, I was a seventeen-year-old heir to an empire I wasn’t prepared to inherit.

The Denisov territories were under siege from three different rival families, each one convinced they could carve up our holdings while I grieved.

Vincent could have turned me away. Instead, he offered sanctuary in his guest wing while I learned to navigate the treacherous waters of succession. He asked for nothing in return, expected no future loyalty, and demanded no promises. He simply provided shelter because it was the right thing to do.

That debt has shaped my decisions for two decades. Tonight’s engagement announcement was as much about honor as strategy, though I hadn’t expected the complications that came with it.

I turn to the third page and freeze. Adrian Petrov’s photograph stares back at me, his familiar features twisted into something harder and more ruthless than I remember.

Once my closest ally, trained at my side, and groomed to help lead the organization when my time came, he now leads a rival syndicate that’s been steadily encroaching on Denisov territory for the past three years.

I expected betrayal from enemies. I never expected it from the man who had been like a brother, so discovering he’s mixed up in this somehow is another unwelcome surprise.

Ilya watches my reaction carefully. “One of Adrian’s men was photographing the gala tonight. Not you, though. He was focused entirely on your fiancée.”

My jaw hardens. Adrian’s move is clear, and it’s a strategy I would have anticipated if I’d known he had loaned Vincent money.

He knows me well enough to understand direct confrontation isn’t his best option.

Instead, he’ll look for leverage, pressure points, or ways to force my hand without risking open warfare.

Sienna Cooper just became the most endangered woman in Manhattan, whether she knows it or not. Adrian will have no qualms using her against me.

I close the folder and lean back against the seat. “Place protection on her immediately. Quiet and untraceable. I want a detail that she’ll never notice but that can respond to any threat.”

“How extensive?”

“Whatever it takes. Adrian won’t be allowed to use her against me.”

Ilya nods and makes a note in his phone. He’s worked for my family for fifteen years, rising through the ranks based on competence rather than connections. His loyalty has been tested in situations where failure meant death, and he’s never disappointed me.

“There’s something else,” he continues, pulling out a second folder. “This is the background on the girl. I thought you might want a fuller picture before the wedding planning begins.”

I take the folder but don’t open it immediately.

Instead, I consider what I know about Sienna Cooper from personal experience.

My memories of her as a child are limited.

I remember teaching her to play chess in her father’s study, impressed by how quickly she grasped strategy despite being only seven years old.

She was quiet then, observant, and a child who listened more than she spoke.

Tonight, she was anything but quiet.

The woman who stood beside me during the announcement bore no resemblance to the timid girl I vaguely remembered. She challenged me at every turn, made it clear she resented the arrangement, and showed no inclination to play the part of the grateful society daughter her parents had promised.

I find myself oddly relieved by that. A compliant wife would have been easier to manage, but compliance breeds contempt in my world. Strength, even when its inconvenient, commands respect.

Plus, I found it kind of… hot? She’s not like other women I’ve met. I can only imagine how that will translate over to the bedroom.

But filthy thoughts have no place here and now.

I open the folder and scan the first page.

She attended the London School of Economics, graduating summa cum laude with a degree in international business.

She’s fluent in French and Italian and spent six months traveling through Europe before returning to New York, where she’s been working part-time at various charitable organizations while her parents orchestrate her social life.

Very nice. Very cultured.

The second page contains more personal details. There have been no serious relationships, though there were a few men her parents pushed on her over the years. She has no criminal record, no scandals, and no connections to organized crime beyond her family’s legitimate businesses.

Clean. Pure. Tempting…

On paper, she’s exactly what Vincent promised, presenting as an educated, well-bred woman.

who understands the requirements of public life.

What the file doesn’t capture is the fire I saw in her tonight, the intelligence behind her careful responses to reporters, or the way she refused to be intimidated even when she was clearly out of her element.

“Anything concerning?” I ask.

Ilya shrugs. “She’s clean. Almost suspiciously so. Either she’s genuinely as innocent as she appears, or she’s very good at covering her tracks.”

I arch a brow. “Which do you think? Is she a clever little vixen or a true saint?”

He seems to surprise himself with his assessment. “I’m leaning toward saint, honestly. Her parents have kept her insulated from the unofficial family business. She knows they have connections to people like us, but I doubt she understands the full scope of what that means.”

The SUV turns onto my street, and I see the lights of my penthouse building ahead.

In a few hours, the engagement announcement will be splashed across every society page in the city.

By tomorrow afternoon, wedding planners will be calling with proposals, and the machinery of Manhattan high society will begin grinding toward what everyone expects to be the social event of the season.

None of them understand what they’re really witnessing is the careful orchestration of a business merger designed to settle old debts and create new alliances.

Love has nothing to do with it, despite the romantic narrative Vincent and Katherine are crafting for the press.

Come to think of it, more than a few probably know that. Manhattan is filled with cynics.

They’re just right about the wrong things.

“Set up a meeting with the wedding planner Katherine recommended,” I say to Ilya as the car pulls up to my building. “Something public, where the meeting will be noticed. We need to maintain the illusion this is a normal courtship.”

“When?”

“This week. The sooner we establish the relationship publicly, the better. Also, make sure Sienna’s protection detail is in place by tomorrow morning. If Adrian is already moving, we can’t afford to be reactive.”

Ilya nods. “What about Vincent’s financial situation? Do you want me to keep monitoring his activities?”

I consider this as the driver opens my door. Vincent’s desperation makes him unpredictable, and unpredictable allies are often more dangerous than known enemies. At the same time, his debt to shadowy lenders suggests he might not have complete control over his own actions.

“Yes, but carefully. I don’t want him to know we’re watching.

If he’s as compromised as these numbers suggest, we need to understand who’s pulling his strings.

” The thought fills me with sadness, because Vincent is one of the few men I always respected and considered level-headed and good at business.

I let out a sigh as I leave.

The elevator ride to my penthouse gives me time to think about the evening.

The engagement announcement went smoothly despite Sienna’s obvious reluctance.

The press coverage will be favorable, which serves both families’ interests.

Vincent gets the financial backing he desperately needs, and I get the social legitimacy that will make certain business ventures significantly easier.

What I hadn’t anticipated was my own reaction to the woman I’m going to marry.

Sienna Cooper is nothing like the compliant society daughter her parents described. She’s intelligent, independent, and clearly resentful of being used as a bargaining chip in her family’s financial negotiations. Under different circumstances, those qualities might be attractive.

Under current circumstances, they’re potentially problematic.

A wife who questions everything, who refuses to simply accept the role she’s been assigned, and might dig too deeply into business affairs that are better left unexamined isn’t the partnership I envisioned when I agreed to this arrangement.

Yet something about her refusal to be intimidated tonight impressed me. Most people, when faced with the reality of what my world means, either cower or try to ingratiate themselves.

Sienna did neither. She met my authority with her own quiet defiance, made it clear she wasn’t grateful for the arrangement, and still managed to play her part when the cameras were rolling.

That suggests strength I hadn’t expected to find in Vincent’s daughter. Of course, my expectations were based on the clearly false narratives Katherine fed me, along with my vague memories of the shy, observant girl she used to be.

Some things never change.

Other change so drastically you’d never recognize them.

My penthouse occupies the entire top floor of the building, with windows that offer commanding views of Central Park and the Manhattan skyline beyond. I pour myself a glass of whiskey to drink and settle into the leather chair behind my desk, spinning idly.

I value this peace. Maybe it will stay for a while this time instead of vanishing like dust in the wind.

The engagement ring I selected for Sienna still sits in its velvet box on the desk’s surface.

It’s a champagne diamond in a vintage setting that seemed to match her traditional elegance.

Tomorrow, I’ll need to present it properly, probably with photographers present to capture the moment for the society pages.

“Will you marry me?” I mumble as I touch the diamond. The words are so fake that I don’t dare say them any louder.

But playing the role of devoted fiancé shouldn’t be that difficult. I’ve been managing public perceptions my entire adult life, crafting an image of legitimate success that masks the darker realities of how the Denisov fortune was built and maintained.

What concerns me is whether Sienna will be equally committed to maintaining the facade. Tonight suggested she has little patience for performance, despite her parents’ obvious expertise in media management.

But people can be convinced, and I have a few tricks up my sleeve that might soon have her begging to obey me.

I open my laptop and scan the early online coverage of the engagement announcement. The photographs are flattering, the headlines appropriately breathless, and the initial social media response seems positive. Katherine clearly knows how to orchestrate this kind of publicity campaign.

One article catches my attention from a gossip blog that specializes in Manhattan society news.

The writer speculates about the speed of the engagement, noting Leo Denisov and Sienna Cooper haven’t been seen together publicly before tonight.

She wonders whether this might be a strategic alliance rather than a romantic relationship.

I roll my eyes and take a big swig of whiskey.

The blogger is more perceptive than most, or at least more open to admitting her theories, but her speculation is buried beneath speculation about wedding dates and venue choices. Still, it’s a reminder that some people will be watching this relationship more carefully than others.

Power attracts enemies more than it does allies. It’s dangerous, but to me it’s worth the risk.

I close the laptop and finish my whiskey, thinking about tomorrow.

The engagement needs to look genuine, which means spending time with Sienna in public and learning to play the role of the devoted groom.

Given her obvious reluctance and my own complicated feelings about the arrangement, that performance will require more skill than I initially anticipated.

One thing that won’t require any pretense is pretending to be attracted to her.

I’ll have no trouble with casual touches, handholding, and stolen kisses.

Just thinking about that gives me a semi erection that I ignore until it goes away, far too disciplined to masturbate to thoughts of my soon-to-be wife.

She thinks I’m a gentleman. Perhaps we should keep it that way until the wedding.