"Payment?"
The word hung in the air between them as the Maybach pulled away from the registry office. Elara didn't flinch, even though her pulse was hammering a frantic rhythm against her collarbone.
She turned to fully face him. "Are you talking about the bedroom, Alexander? Because if you are, you should know I'm not exactly in the mood to celebrate right now."
A slow, dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. Alexander leaned back against the leather seat, his eyes dropping briefly to her lips before meeting her gaze again.
"I don't force women into my bed, Elara. And when you finally end up there, it won't be because of a contract. You'll be the one asking for it."
The sheer, arrogant confidence in his voice made her breath catch.
"Then what do you want?" she asked, her voice losing a bit of its steady edge.
Alexander's playful demeanor vanished. The temperature in the car seemed to drop ten degrees. He reached out, his long fingers wrapping gently but firmly around her chin, forcing her to look directly into his pitch-black eyes.
"Loyalty," he said softly. The word carried the weight of a death sentence. "You dragged me into your mess, and I played along because I despise my nephew. But understand this: you wear my ring now. You carry my name. I don't care what you do to Julian, but if you ever use my name to make a fool out of me, death will be the least of your worries."
Elara stared back, refusing to break eye contact. In her past life, she would have been terrified. But now? Being threatened by the city's most dangerous man felt infinitely safer than being loved by Julian.
"You have my word," Elara said firmly. "I don't betray my allies."
Alexander studied her face for a long, agonizing moment. Then, his thumb brushed against her lower lip—a startlingly gentle gesture—before he dropped his hand.
"Good."
Twenty minutes later, the car pulled into the underground garage of the Zenith Tower. The entire top floor belonged to Alexander.
When the private elevator doors chimed open, Elara stepped into a penthouse that looked exactly like the man who owned it: sprawling, immaculate, and utterly devoid of warmth. It was all black marble, slate gray furniture, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline.
"My assistant, Liam, has already moved your essentials from your family estate," Alexander said, shrugging off his suit jacket and tossing it onto a leather sofa. "The master bedroom is down the hall on the left."
Elara blinked. "We're sharing a room?"
Alexander walked toward a sleek kitchen island, pouring himself a glass of water. He paused and raised an eyebrow at her. "Did you think I was going to put my new wife in a guest room? I have a reputation to maintain, Elara. The staff talks."
Before she could argue, a sharp knock echoed from the heavy oak front door.
Liam, Alexander's notoriously efficient and terrifying right-hand man, stepped inside. He bowed slightly toward Alexander, then gave Elara a respectful nod. "Boss. Madam."
Hearing herself called 'Madam' by a man who made city officials tremble was a surreal experience.
"What is it, Liam?" Alexander asked, taking a sip of his water.
"It's Julian, sir," Liam reported, his tone entirely flat. "He's throwing a tantrum at the Vance Corporation headquarters. He just bypassed the board and ordered the finance department to freeze all of Madam's personal and business accounts."
Elara's eyes narrowed. In her past life, she had given Julian proxy control over her shares because she trusted him to run her family's company. He was trying to cut off her money supply to force her back to him. He thought she was still the naive girl who would panic without her credit cards.
"He's trying to starve me out," Elara muttered, her nails digging into her palms. "He thinks I'll come crawling back if I can't pay for my own hotel room."
She turned toward the door. "I need to go to the office. I can lock him out of the main accounts if I override his passcode—"
"Stop."
Alexander's voice wasn't loud, but it anchored her to the floor. He set his glass down, walked across the living room, and stopped right in front of her.
He reached into the inner pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a sleek, matte-black credit card. It had no numbers on it. Just his name, etched in gold.
He took her hand, pressed the heavy card into her palm, and closed her fingers around it.
"You don't scramble for pennies anymore, Elara," Alexander said, his voice a low, intoxicating rumble. "You are Mrs. Cross."
Elara looked down at the card. It was the legendary Centurion card. There was no limit. With this single piece of plastic, she could buy the entire Vance Corporation building twice over.
"Take Liam," Alexander commanded, his eyes gleaming with a dark, predatory amusement. "Go to your company. Buy out the board. Fire whoever you want. And if my nephew tries to raise his voice at you..."
Alexander leaned down, his lips ghosting over her ear, sending a jolt of electricity straight down her spine.
"...crush him."