Page 7

I drew in a deep breath, standing outside the quaint café, my wavy brown hair rustling in the gentle wind as I lowered my head, texting Ravyn.

My manicured fingers rattled across the keyboard displayed on my screen. Typing in the words, I muttered, “I'm at the location. Wish me luck.” I hit the send icon and clicked the button on the side of my phone, killing the screen.

I raised my head, shoving my phone back into my bag. My eyes caught my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling glass window in front of me.

The loose coffee-brown knee-length gown Ravyn had helped me pick out from my wardrobe cascaded down my body. The fine silk fabric hugged me in the right places, not revealing too much of my curvature but doing enough to maintain an effortless vibe.

I stood balanced on a pair of rich, dark leather boots, their heels elongating my legs, making me inches taller and adding a touch of edge to the overall look.

Initially, I’d thought the boots were a little too much, but once again, Ravyn's intuition had proven spot on. Not bad at all.

My skin glowed with a warm, sun-kissed radiance, blending seamlessly with the light makeup on my face—courtesy of Ravyn's skillful hands.

My appearance was simple but classy. It didn't matter that I hated the man I was meeting up with; looking good was non-negotiable.

I glanced at my watch. I was already ten minutes late, yet I maintained my cool.

Men like Alexei Tarasov hated sitting and waiting. In most cases, it was always the reverse; people would usually sit and wait for their arrival and not the other way around.

He must be so upset right now, and the idea alone gladdened my heart, filling me with some sort of inner peace and joy.

The plan was to make him see reasons why this marriage wouldn't work, so why not start by getting on his nerves? He was a principled man who expected things to be done in a certain way.

For men like that, going against these principles or set of rules was always a red flag—which, by the way, was the plan: to orchestrate those red flags. Alexei's time was precious to him; therefore, wasting more than a couple of minutes should be enough to get me into his black book.

I sincerely hoped the day would go as I’d planned.

I smacked my lips, which were painted a subtle nude shade, before walking toward the entrance.

The tiny bells jingled as I pushed the door open and stepped inside, enveloped by the warm glow of the chandelier lights above. Soft jazz music floated in the background, blending with the gentle hum of conversations.

Inside was bustling with patrons: couples, families, and groups of friends chattering and laughing over steaming cups and plates of delicious-looking meals.

Baristas dressed in their uniforms—red polo shirts and black pants—glided through tables, warm and courteous smiles etched their faces as they took and served orders.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked foods wafted through the air, invading my senses as I stood at the entrance. I scanned the interior until I spotted him sitting alone by the window, gazing outside.

Intermittently, he'd check his watch before returning his eyes outside. The man seemed like he was running out of patience—the faint scowl on his face hinted at his frustration.

Good. Maybe this would go smoother than I thought.

His tailored charcoal gray suit fitted his muscular build perfectly, highlighting his imposing figure that seemed to command attention.

His broad shoulders and chiseled physique bulged from underneath his crisp white undershirt, a silver tie completing his ensemble. Alexei Tarasov exuded an aura of sophistication and style.

A group of girls at a nearby table couldn't help but stare at him, their faces aglow with excitement as they shared hushed comments and stifled giggles.

I rolled my eyes at how captivated they were by him. Those naive girls had no idea they were crushing on the devil himself. But I didn't blame them; he did look charming and handsome, enough to deceive anyone with a gullible mind.

Luckily for me, I knew exactly the type of man he was. His good looks couldn't fool me. I knew too much.

With graceful steps, I approached his table, my heels clicking against the fine wooden floor. The closer I drew, the more his expensive cologne filled my senses—rich and manly.

“Hi,” I greeted, wearing a plastic smile as I stood before him.

He shifted his gaze toward me, and for a moment there, my breath lodged in my throat as I caught his eyes—those piercing blue eyes.

I stood still, arrested by his features: sharp jawline, glittering dark hair styled to perfection, and captivating ruggedness.

Holy shit! I panicked.

This wasn't part of the plan. I never anticipated his good looks catching me off guard. A flutter of nervousness swelled up within me, but I wouldn't let it show. No way.

In less than two seconds, I was back in control, perfectly masking this fleeting moment of weakness with a straight face.

However, I noticed I wasn't the only one affected by the other's looks and appearance. Three years was a long time, and I, for one, had changed so much that he took some time to examine the woman standing in front of him.

His brows arched ever so slightly, eyes roaming my body with a glint of surprise dancing in their depths. Alexei seemed like he was caught off guard, like I wasn't the woman he’d expected to meet.

Did he think I'd still be the same teenage girl from three years ago? The one with the premature breasts and flat behind?

The shock on his face was amusing, and that boosted my ego.

“Lorena?” he asked, his deep voice dripping with surprise.

“Oh, it's that hard to recognize me without the ‘rich brat’ label attached to my forehead, isn't it?” My tone was sarcastic, laced with sass, daring him to deny it.

He squinted, disbelief coloring those blue eyes of his as he scoffed, shaking his head with a subtle motion. “Still as arrogant as ever, I see.”

I slid into the seat across from him, my gaze locked on his. “And you're still a hypocrite,” I said, keeping a straight face, my voice firm and confident.

He was just as guilty of the same arrogance he was accusing me of, hence the reason I called him a hypocrite. But somehow, that didn't seem to affect him at all. He just reclined into his chair with a pesky little smirk on his face, unfazed by my words.

That was weird. He was supposed to be upset. I was already ten minutes late, to begin with. So, why hadn't he turned red? My attempt to get under his skin was intentional. However, I either sucked at it, or he'd built a thick wall against my arrogance. Either way, I didn't like his calmness one bit.

Just then, a barista approached our table, interrupting our staring contest with her smooth voice and courteous smile. “Hi, welcome to Café Bliss. What can I get you?”

I lifted my eyes and met hers, a warm grin spreading across my face. “I'm fine. Thank you.”

“And you, sir?” Her gaze settled on Alexei.

“A bottle of sparkling water will do,” he chimed without taking his eyes off me.

“Okay, that'll be $4.50,” she replied, retaining her smile; already, there was a faint flush of pink on her cheeks.

He reached for his wallet, withdrew a $10 bill, and handed it to her. This time, his gaze met hers. “Keep the change.”

Her smile broadened, with a glaring blush that made me sick in my stomach. Us women were the reason men like him were of the notion that they could have whomever they wanted.

As she dematerialized, her footsteps retreating, my brows rose at him. “Sparkling water? Really?”

He shrugged his shoulders, his tone low and husky. “I'm driving. Besides, I'll need something natural to wash down your arrogance.”

My brows furrowed, forming faint creases between them.

The barista returned with her friendly smile, gently setting his order on the table. “Here you go.” She straightened, her gaze falling on him. “Do enjoy your drink. And let me know if you need anything else.”

I wasn't sure whether she was flirting or whether this was just a professional courtesy—not that I cared anyway.

She smiled at him one more time before leaving us alone.

Alexei twisted the cap off the water bottle and took a sip. “So, why'd you want to meet up?” He placed his elbows on the table, watching me like a hawk.

“I wanted to talk about the elephant in the room,” I said, looking into his eyes.

“Which is?” he asked, feigning ignorance, his expression soft but stern at the same time.

I shut my eyes for a moment, getting a grip of myself. I hated the fact that he was toiling with me. If I showed him that his actions were getting to me, he'd use it against me. I needed to play it cool.

“The arranged marriage,” I answered, keeping a straight face and still maintaining eye contact.

His lips curled into a sly grin. “What about it?”

Alexei was turning the table, making himself the hunter and me the hunted.

Oh, no, Mister. This is not how this is supposed to go down, I thought to myself.

His calmness and that stupid smirk on his face were infuriating me, and I had a feeling that was what he wanted. He was trying to get under my skin, but I wouldn't let him.

“I know that this marriage is just as unexpected for you as it is for me—”

“What makes you so sure?” he cut me off, leaning back in his chair.

I heaved a sigh, struggling to maintain my composure. I couldn't afford to lose control right now. He'd love that. And I'd hate it.

“Maybe I'm not so sure,” I said, a faint scowl creeping into my face as I edged closer, elbows on the table. “But tell me this: Do you really want this marriage?” My gaze bore into his. “You don't have to pretend with me. It's the two of us; no need to lie to each other.”

God, I hated that smirk. It was making my blood boil. However, I kept a straight face even though I was cursing him on the inside.

He watched me in silence, eyes narrowing as his fingers drummed against the table. His gaze wouldn't leave mine, and I swore that he was studying me, searching for signs of weakness. The worst that could happen to me was Alexei figuring me out. If he read me like a book, he'd have an edge over me, and I'd be a goner.

“Do you really want this marriage, Alexei?” I repeated, hoping to get a negative response.

If his answer was ‘no,’ then I'd have solved more than 90% of our problems, and we'd cook up a plan to escape this impending life of torment.

Alexei looked me dead in the eyes and leaned forward, mirroring my serious expression as he whispered, “Yes, I do.”

Fuck! I yelled inside me, my pulse quickening as I clenched my jaw.

I managed to steady my heavy breathing and racing heart while retaining a blank expression.

“But why?” I asked, my voice calm and collected despite the turmoil raging within me.

“Business,” he replied keenly, slumping back into his chair. “You see, Lorena,” Alexei began, holding my gaze, “this marriage will benefit both families in more ways than one. The Campbell Enterprise will be back on its feet, and the Tarasov Bratva will have and enjoy all the political privileges that follow the Campbell family.” As he explained, his eyes never left mine. “Consider it a marriage of convenience….”

Convenient for you and my dad , I thought, fuming.

He continued, “…a long-term contract between two powerful families.”

Okay, it was time to switch to plan B.

Maybe if I gave him more than a couple of reasons to despise me, he'd call it off; it was a silly idea, but it was worth the shot.

“You can't marry me, Alexei,” I said, shrugging my shoulders while trying to sound as confident as I could.

“And why is that?” He squinted, brows furrowing in curiosity.

“Because….” My head went blank. It was as though all the reasons I'd cooked up had evaporated from my brain.

His gaze intensified, brows arching as if to say he was waiting for my response.

I discreetly scratched the back of my head like that would make me remember what I had planned on saying. “I…I had plastic surgery.” I cleared my throat. My voice was laced with uncertainty at first, but by the end of the sentence, it was drilled with conviction.

“Plastic surgery?” His brows rose in disbelief, his gaze still lingering on me.

Oh, my God. Maybe he bought it .

A wave of anticipation spread across my body.

He snickered, eyes roaming over my torso. “That's the best you could come up with?”

Dang it.

“I did have plastic surgery, and if we ever have children, they won't look this good.” My hands gestured at my body, and I leaned forward to whisper, “Because what you're seeing is not even real.”

“My genes are pretty strong. So, don't worry your puny mind about having ugly kids,” he said, his voice laced with conviction and arrogance. His lips flashed that annoying grin of his.

He did not just call my mind puny.

A scowl settled on my face, causing my jaw to clench.

“Anything else?” he asked, his tone hinting that there was nothing I could say that would cause him to change his mind.

Well, I still had a few more tricks up my sleeves.

“Yes, actually. There is,” came my sharp response.

He gave me a look that said, “Let's have it.”

“I like having multiple men in my life.” My voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Multiple sex partners, if you know what I mean.”

In my head, I was so embarrassed at the words I'd used to describe myself. Those were all lies. I'd never even had sex before, let alone have multiple partners.

“It’s not ideal to have a slutty woman as a wife, and this free bird doesn't like to be caged.” I wore a fake sad face, like I was mocking his poor choice of choosing a good wife.

I hated painting such an illicit picture of myself, but I so desperately needed his rejection. It was better for him to see me as a wild woman and call off the wedding than to have him see me as a good woman and go through with it.

He looked deep into my eyes and said with a casual tone, “I don't mind. I think it's kind of hot.” He hit me with that pesky little smirk again.

What? No! You're fucking supposed to reject me! How hard can it be to reject a slut? What more do you want me to tell you before you can put an end to this madness? Would you fucking like me if I told you that I was HIV position or that I had all manner of STIs? Jesus Christ!

It was stormy in my head, my inner voice screaming at him.

Yet, on the outside, I looked calm and reserved, like I wasn't losing my sanity.

“It doesn't matter what flaws or bad behavior you might have,” he said, his voice cutting through my thoughts. “I'll fix you.”

His arrogance, though!

At the end of the day, it was a bust. The man had the perfect replies to all my reasons. It was clear to me that there was nothing I could say or do that would make him change his mind.

This marriage was going to happen, and sadly, there was nothing that I could do about it. My fate was sealed.

All through the drive back to my dorm, it was silent between us, with only the sound of the humming engine filling the car's cabin.

Alexei brought his black G-wagon to a stop outside my dorm and turned to face me. “I believe I now know enough about my future wife.”

No, you don't know shit.

I stared at him, wishing that a truck would hit his car on his way back to whatever hellhole he’d crawled out from. My thoughts on his death were a little extreme, but that was how much I hated Alexei Tarasov.

“I have just one more semester until I graduate,” I said, looking at him. I ignored the sly grin on his lips. “Can we please postpone the wedding till then—at least until after my graduation?”

“Is that what you want?” he asked, his expression soft. There was a glint of understanding in his eyes.

“Yes,” I muttered, grateful I would finally get something done my way.

“Then no,” he blurted out, his lips curling into an evil smirk.

My eyes widened in disappointment. I should've seen this coming, knowing he'd never do anything that wouldn't benefit him or his stupid organization.

He’d given me hope and then bashed it without second thoughts. What a devil.

I could tell he enjoyed getting on my nerves. This sick psycho delighted in seeing me suffer, and now I feared what he would do to me once we got married.

My hatred for him had escalated after today, especially since he managed to turn the tables around on me. I was supposed to be the one to get on his nerves—to send him home angry and disappointed. Now, I was the one angry and disappointed.

I stepped out of the car, and as he drove away, I headed into the building, going straight to my room, where I pushed the door open without bothering to knock.

“Hey!” Ravyn launched off her bed, a book in her hand. “How'd it go?” She walked over to me, her gaze locked on mine.

“I hate him. I hate him…. I hate him so much,” I spat, my voice laced with venom and disdain.

“That bad, huh?” She tossed the book on her reading table and embraced me. “I've got you.”

“I hate him so much, Ravie.” My voice broke, eyes misting as I fought back my tears.

“Shh.” She hugged me tighter, her palm smoothing down my hair.

Nothing could ease the pain of today’s encounter.