Chapter 3: Behind the Facade
Alexander's POV
I am finally a married man, chained to a woman I don't love, all to satisfy my arrogant father’s ridiculous ultimatum. As his firstborn, the Sterling empire is my birthright, yet he held it hostage until I put a ring on Victoria Mitchell’s finger.
It should be Isabella standing next to me, waving at the flashing cameras. I can only imagine how it burns her to watch me hold another woman, but she understands the assignment. I’ll make it up to her later tonight.
What pisses me off the most is the kiss. When I leaned in to seal our vows, Victoria completely locked her lips. She didn't grant me access or even lean into it. How the hell does a woman refuse a kiss from me?
It’s been an hour, and she’s already acting like she owns the world just because she upgraded her last name. To make matters worse, my entire family dotes on her. My mother watches her like she’s an angel descended from heaven. Victoria is gorgeous, I’ll admit, but she is nothing compared to my Isabella.
My family rejected Isabella a year ago, labeling her toxic and greedy. I know their real issue—Isabella is a divorcée with a complicated past. They see her as damaged goods. But I don't care what they think. I gave them their perfect daughter-in-law; now they will give me the company.
The only bright spot in my day is an email from the Little Warriors Hospital. Beatrice, a young girl in critical condition, successfully made it through a major surgery.
As Victoria and Isabella engage in their fake, hugging photo-op, I feel Leo, my best friend, sling his arm around my shoulder. "Must be a tough day. Watching your bride and your actual girlfriend share a touching moment," he mocks.
"Keep your mouth shut, Leo. We're in public," I murmur, scanning the crowd. Leo is the only one who knows the truth, and I intend to keep it that way.
When it's time to transition to the reception venue, I climb into the sleek Rolls Royce with Victoria. Through the tinted window, I watch Isabella standing alone as we drive away. I had arranged for a brand-new sports car to be delivered to her this morning just to ease the blow of today, but seeing her left behind still gnaws at me.
I turn my attention to the woman sitting stiffly beside me. "What exactly were you and Isabella whispering about out there?"
"Girl talk. I'm sure it would bore you," Victoria replies flatly, not even bothering to look my way.
I scoff. The audacity of this woman has skyrocketed since our first meeting. "Watch your tone. I am your husband now."
"A title you paid for. Let's not confuse business with authority." She brushes an invisible speck of dust off her extravagant wedding dress, entirely unbothered.
"I can make this arrangement very difficult for you, Victoria," I threaten, leaning closer.
"I think you've already done enough for one day."
I clench my jaw, turning away. Fighting her right now is a waste of energy. She knows I need her to secure the company, and she's milking the leverage.
My phone hums in my pocket. A text from Isabella: 'I’m so jealous of her right now, but remember, you’re coming back to my bed tonight.'
A smirk tugs at my lips.
As we approach the reception hall, I adjust my tie. "Listen carefully. We are putting on a grand show. The press will be documenting every second, so smile and act like you are completely bewitched by me."
"The standard expected of you as well," she shoots back.
~
Hours later, the charade of our first dance concludes. My jaw aches from holding a fake, loving grin, and Victoria’s smile perfectly mirrors my own deceit.
"I am counting the seconds until I can peel this dress off and go to sleep," she whispers into my ear while we sway, maintaining the illusion for the cameras.
I know exactly what she means. Her little innocent act is just a cover; she’s practically begging for me to consummate this marriage once we get to the island. Time to remind her of the rules.
"Don't kid yourself. I’m not stepping foot in your bedroom tonight. Or ever," I say bluntly, maintaining my smile.
She pulls back slightly, her eyes dancing with amusement. "I didn't say I wanted company. I said I want to sleep. Try not to let your ego suffocate you."
Before I can retort, the music fades, and she smoothly detaches herself from me to a round of applause. I seethe silently.
After endless rounds of dancing and fending off my mother’s tearful demands that I treat Victoria like a queen, we finally escape to the private jet.
We land in absolute paradise—a secluded honeymoon island I rented out entirely from a billionaire associate. The tropical breeze is warm, but my blood runs hot for a different reason. I had Isabella flown out early. She is already here, waiting.
As we enter the sprawling tropical mansion, a maid carries a large, ornate box behind Victoria. I recognize it instantly. I overheard her best friend gifting it to her earlier today—it’s filled with seductive, high-end lingerie.
For all her talk on the dancefloor about just wanting to sleep, that box tells a completely different story. She is expecting me to break my own rule tonight.
Victoria follows another maid down the left hallway toward the guest quarters, not even glancing back at me. Good. Let her prepare herself.
I follow the headmaid down the right wing, leading directly to the master suite. The moment the maid bows and leaves, I push the heavy wooden doors open.
Isabella is draped across the king-sized bed, wearing a sheer silk robe that barely conceals the scarlet lingerie beneath. "I finally have you all to myself," she purrs, slipping off the bed and letting the silk pool around her ankles.
Her body is a masterpiece, and looking at her instantly spikes my adrenaline. I stride forward, pulling her against my chest and devouring her mouth. This kiss is fiery and intoxicating, wiping the bitter taste of the church altar from my memory.
But as her hands glide down my chest, a dark thought intrudes. Victoria is in the other wing, probably squeezing herself into lace, anticipating my arrival. The urge to shatter her expectations, to walk in and completely reject her on our wedding night, is overwhelmingly tantalizing. It’s the perfect revenge for her attitude all day.
"Babe, give me a minute," I murmur, pulling away from Isabella’s bruised lips.
"You finally ditched the dead weight?" she whines, her fingers struggling with the top button of my shirt. "I am already so wet for you."
"I’ll be right back. I just need to drop by Victoria's room for a minute. Just to remind her how entirely unwanted she is tonight."
Isabella’s eyes gleam with wicked delight. "Hurry back, babe. I don't like sharing you, even for an insult."
My pulse races with anticipation. I wipe the smeared lipstick from my chin and quickly march down the corridors to the left wing. I stop outside Victoria’s bedroom and rap my knuckles firmly against the dark wood.
It takes her a grueling minute to answer. I cross my arms, preparing a devastating smirk. She's probably applying lip gloss, desperate to look irresistible.
The door finally unlatches and swings open. I open my mouth to deliver the crushing blow, but the words instantly die in my throat as my eyes rake over her from head to toe in pure, unadulterated shock.