Chapter 9: Rival
1199words
"Richard believes he's found a vulnerability," Alexander confirmed, his expression grim. "He's been quietly acquiring shares through shell companies. Combined with what Victoria already controls, they're dangerously close to a controlling interest."
"But your grandmother's shares—"
"Are still mine, contingent on our marriage." He ran a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of frustration. "But Richard is challenging the validity of our engagement, claiming it's a sham designed solely to meet the terms of my grandmother's trust."
My stomach dropped. "Can he prove that?"
"Not yet. But he's looking for evidence." Alexander's eyes met mine. "That's why the reporters ambushed you. That's why Victoria has been watching our every move."
The pieces clicked into place. "They're building a case against us."
"Precisely." Alexander moved to the window, tension evident in every line of his body. "The board has called an emergency meeting tomorrow. We need a counter-strategy."
"We?" I echoed, surprised by his inclusion.
He turned, his expression serious. "Yes, we. This affects both of us now."
For the next several hours, we worked side by side, analyzing Richard's strategy and developing countermeasures. Alexander explained the complex web of Blackwood International's ownership structure while I identified financial weaknesses in Richard's approach.
"He's overleveraged," I noted, studying the reports Alexander had provided. "If we could force a margin call on these holdings..." I outlined a potential strategy, watching Alexander's expression shift from skepticism to consideration.
"That could work," he admitted, a hint of admiration in his voice. "But it would require perfect timing."
"And a unified front from the board," I added. "Do you have enough allies there?"
"Some. Others are waiting to see which way the wind blows." His mouth twisted. "Loyalty is a rare commodity in corporate boardrooms."
"Then we need to make the business case irrefutable." I reached for another report, our hands brushing briefly. The contact sent a jolt through me, a reminder of our near-kiss during the blackout—a moment neither of us had mentioned since.
By midnight, we had developed a comprehensive defense strategy. Alexander looked at me with new respect as we finalized the presentation.
"You're wasted as a contract wife," he said, the compliment catching me off guard. "You should be running your own division."
"Maybe in another life," I replied, trying to ignore the warmth his praise kindled. "For now, I'll settle for helping you keep your company."
His expression softened momentarily. "Thank you, Elena. For all of this."
"That's what partners do," I said, then quickly added, "Business partners, I mean."
Something flickered in his eyes—disappointment? Amusement? Before I could decipher it, his phone rang.
"Blackwood," he answered sharply. After listening for a moment, his expression darkened. "I'll be right there."
"What's wrong?" I asked as he ended the call.
"My grandmother's condition has worsened. I need to go to the hospital." He hesitated, then added, "Would you come with me?"
The request surprised me. "Of course."
---
Vivian Blackwood was a formidable presence even in a hospital bed. Despite her illness, her sharp eyes assessed me thoroughly as Alexander introduced me.
"So you're the woman who's captured my grandson's interest," she said, her voice stronger than her frail appearance suggested. "Come closer, dear. My eyes aren't what they used to be."
I approached the bed, feeling Alexander's hand at the small of my back—a gesture that had become familiar, almost comforting.
"The emerald suits you," Vivian noted, nodding at my ring. "It never looked right on Victoria."
Alexander tensed beside me. "Grandmother—"
"Oh, don't fuss, Alexander. We all know that engagement was a mistake." She turned her attention back to me. "Tell me, Elena, what do you think of my grandson's company?"
The question felt like a test. "It's impressively run," I answered honestly. "Though there are areas where innovation has been sacrificed for tradition."
Alexander stiffened, but Vivian laughed—a surprisingly youthful sound. "She has opinions, this one. Good. You need someone who challenges you, Alexander."
Before he could respond, the door opened to admit a striking woman in her early thirties—Victoria, looking elegant even at this late hour.
"Alexander, I came as soon as I heard—" She stopped short at the sight of me. "Oh. You brought... her."
"Elena is my fiancée," Alexander replied coolly. "Of course she's here."
Victoria's smile didn't reach her eyes. "How devoted. Especially given the circumstances."
"What circumstances?" I asked, refusing to be intimidated.
"The board meeting tomorrow. Uncle Richard is quite confident in his position." Her gaze flicked to Alexander. "Temporary arrangements have a way of ending suddenly, don't they?"
The threat was thinly veiled, but before Alexander could respond, Vivian spoke up.
"Victoria, if you've come to upset me during my illness, you can leave immediately."
Victoria's expression immediately shifted to contrition. "Of course not, Aunt Vivian. I'm only concerned about Alexander's... choices."
"My choices are not your concern," Alexander said flatly. "Now, if you've paid your respects, Elena and I have matters to discuss with my grandmother."
After Victoria departed, her displeasure evident in the sharp click of her heels, Vivian fixed her penetrating gaze on me.
"That one has always wanted what Alexander has," she remarked. "Be careful of her. She plays a long game."
"I'm beginning to realize that," I replied.
Later, as we left the hospital, Alexander surprised me by suggesting dinner at a small Italian restaurant nearby. "You must be hungry. We've been working for hours."
The restaurant was intimate, softly lit, with red checkered tablecloths and candles in wine bottles—nothing like the formal establishments where Alexander usually conducted business meals.
"How did you find this place?" I asked as we were seated in a quiet corner.
"It was my mother's favorite." His admission, offered so casually, revealed more about our changing relationship than any grand gesture could have.
Throughout dinner, Alexander demonstrated an unexpected knowledge of my preferences—ordering the wine I favored, suggesting dishes I might enjoy. When I commented on it, he shrugged slightly.
"I pay attention," he said simply.
As we shared tiramisu for dessert, I found myself studying him across the table—the way the candlelight softened his features, how his guard seemed lower outside the confines of his corporate world.
"What?" he asked, catching my gaze.
"Nothing. Just... this feels nice. Normal."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Normal isn't a word often associated with our arrangement."
"No," I agreed. "But maybe that's not such a bad thing."
His eyes held mine, something unspoken passing between us. For a moment, I could almost forget the contract that bound us, the business machinations that had brought us together.
Almost.
Outside the restaurant, neither of us noticed the figure watching from across the street—Victoria, her expression cold as she observed our easy interaction, the way Alexander's hand rested at the small of my back, the smile I offered him as we slid into his waiting car.
She pulled out her phone, dialing quickly. "It's me. I need you to find me proof their marriage is fake. Whatever it takes."
