My heart races as I watch Alexander's lips part, preparing to press against my own. I shut my eyelids tightly, my cheeks burning with embarrassment, and hold my breath. But nothing happens. Slowly, I open one eye to see Alexander smirking at me mischievously. He's doing this to throw me off my game!, I realize, irritation bubbling up inside me.

My hands briefly linger on his chest, noting the firmness of his pecs, before pushing him back. "You're gross!" I exclaim, shoving him away from me. "So yes, it'd be awful to marry you!" I snap, hoping to wound him. But instead of appearing hurt, Alexander simply throws his head back and laughs out loud, running his fingers through his hair as he does so. There's something alluring, beautiful about the way he laughs - with such sincerity and freedom, as if he hasn't a care in the world. I never thought I’d see him laugh like that… I shake my head, scolding myself for admiring this man.

When the laughter subsides, Alexander sits back down in his chair, tears of joy still clinging to his eyes. He motions for me to sit down as well, which I begrudgingly do. His expression turns serious again, and he asks, "So tell me. Why do you want me to fake being engaged to you?" Crossing his arms, he adds, "If I'm going to agree to this, I need to know the reason why."

Hope blooms within me. He might just agree! "It's to get away from Tristan," I admit. "He won't leave me alone, and I need him to believe we're together so he'll finally stop."

Alexander's face adopts a deadly look, his amber eyes narrowing like those of a predator. "Is he bothering you?" he asks, fists clenched atop the table, a vein bulging on his neck.

I pause, considering how to respond. Alexander did come to my aid that night in the gardens, intervening the moment Tristan started to harass me. And it was Alexander himself who concocted this story of our engagement. Reflecting on his past actions, I feel a surge of confidence. If I tell Alexander that Tristan is bothering me again, I'm certain he'll stand by my side and accede to whatever I ask of him.

Taking a deep breath, I decide to play my cards. "Well, Prince Alexander," I sigh dramatically, "Tristan is obsessed with me!" I throw my hands up in the air for effect. "He won't leave me alone, despite my asking him multiple times! It's unbearable!"

Alexander raises an eyebrow, his face an unreadable mask. "Really? That bad, huh?"

"Absolutely dreadful!" I continue, shifting into a tragic expression and hoping my acting has improved. "I can't take a single step without him lurking around!"

"Hum," Alexander says, covering his mouth behind his hand. "So, you think faking an engagement with me will get him to back off?"

"Definitely!" I exclaim, nodding vigorously. "So, will you assist me?”

Alexander pondered for a fleeting second, his hand thoughtfully on his chin. I can almost see the 'yes' forming on his lips, believing I've convinced him. But then, the unthinkable happens. "I won't do it," he states firmly, shattering my hope into pieces.

"What?! B-but..." My words falter in disbelief. "But... Have you no pity?" My voice rises in a mix of frustration and desperation as I get to my feet, pacing the room. Approaching him, I muster my courage and softly plead, "Please?", wishing to soften him with my best puppy eyes, but he's unyielding, a steadfast refusal in his gaze as he repeats, "I’m sorry, I won't do it."

Internally, I seethe. Seraphina's body is undeniably cute, and yet he doesn't seem affected by it. I shouldn't be surprised though; he's heartless and cruel. Do I have to beg the man I hate to fake marry me?!

I can feel the anger growing inside me as I force myself to take a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Why won't you help me?" I ask through gritted teeth, as I look at Alexander sitting across from me, his eyes an unsettling shade of amber in the dimly lit room.

He sighs and leans back in his chair. "Princess Seraphina, if Tristan is really bothering you that much, why don't you just tell King Benedict about it? Have him executed if he's causing you so much trouble," Alexander suggests casually, as if discussing the weather. "Or, if you prefer, I could challenge him to a duel and kill him myself."

My cheeks immediately flush, both from embarrassment and indignation. The Prince of Ironhold is truly as cold as they say. "No! That's not what I want... And I... I can't tell the King..."

Alexander raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Why? What's stopping you?"

I hesitate for a moment before taking a seat in front of Alexander once again. It's not that I haven't considered killing Tristan myself, but what I really want is for him and Cecilia to suffer. Of course, I can't share my true intentions with Prince Alexander – it'd be too out of character for Seraphina. "It's... complicated," I mumble, avoiding his intense gaze.

"Complicated how?" Alexander presses, studying me closely as though trying to decipher my every word.

"Fine," I relent, feeling cornered. "Tristan and I... we had a thing for a few months. I wanted to end it, I told him, but he just won't get the message. And he's getting more violent each time..." I let my voice fade, averting my eyes from Alexander's piercing stare.

His expression seems to shift at my words, and it's as though I'm being scrutinized under his yellow gaze, as if the dragon beneath his skin was about to emerge at any moment. I exhale shakily, looking down and pulling at the fabric of my dress. "He's not that bad," I lie, trying to soften the message so Alexander won't insist on killing him.

I glance back up at the prince, noticing a hint of sadness in his gorgeous eyes. "I don't want to tell King Benedict..." I start softly, swallowing the lump in my throat. "He can't know about it. It would bring real shame on me and the royal family." My voice trembles slightly as I admit this to him. “So, that’s why I decided to seek your help…” I mutter, trailing off into silence.

Alexander studies me for a moment before nodding. Shit. This is a total disaster. I definitely did not want to tell him all this. He might take advantage of my weaknesses, and I have already revealed so much to him.

To my bewilderment, Prince Alexander asks, "Does he have anything on you?" His question is confusing at first.

"What do you mean?" I inquire, genuinely puzzled.

"Does Tristan have any proof of your... entanglement?" He clarifies, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks as he says the word "entanglement."

I place my chin between my fingers, thinking hard before finally resolving to say the truth, "He... has some letters. And he's willing to forge fake ones, he told me that." I watch as Alexander takes his eyes away from me and crosses his arms, clearly considering what I've just said.

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"Did you sleep with him?" His question startles me, and I jump up, exclaiming vehemently, "No, I didn't!" The thought of Tristan's clammy hands and the mad look in his eyes when he came to extort me in my room sends shivers down my spine. "I could never," I add, my voice barely above a whisper.

Alexander's gaze flickers down to his feet, and he clears his throat before finally speaking. "Do you... do you still love him?" he asks hesitantly, avoiding direct eye contact.

"No way," I reply firmly, my heart pounding in my chest.

I watch Alexander, his eyes closed and his fingers scratching absently at his scalp. His handsome features are scrunched up in concentration, and I can't help but wonder what's going on in his head. The suspense is killing me.

Finally, he lets out a long breath and meets my gaze. "Alright," he says, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "I will fake an engagement to you."

My heart leaps with joy, and I can't help myself – I jump off the chair, exclaiming, "Yes!" He gets up from his seat and reclines against his desk, a mysterious expression on his face as he regards me.

"However," he continues, raising a finger to emphasize his point, "we will need some rules."

"Of course," I agree quickly, not wanting to give him a chance to change his mind. I place both my hands on my hips and approach him with a stern look. "No inappropriate touching, for starters."

"Define inappropriate," he challenges, his fingers tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear and gently brushing against my cheek. My face heats up, and I struggle to keep my composure.

"Well, for example, that," I retort, furrowing my brow. I must not let the bashfulness show.

A playful smile appears on Alexander's lips. "This? I don't accept it. We'll need to touch each other, show people we're a young couple in love."

I shake my head, feeling my annoyance rising. He's really trying to get on my nerves! "You can touch me a little when we are in public and have to make a show. But not in private like you did now. Never do that again," I hiss, giving him a cold glare.

"Fine," he relents, holding up his hands in surrender. "I won't, unless you want me to."

"Ha!" I scoff. As if that will ever happen.

I watch as Alexander gets off the desk and takes a seat in his chair, pulling a quill and a piece of paper from one of the drawers. "We should decide on a set of rules and draft a contract," he proposes, his eyes locked with mine.

"Excellent idea," I reply, feeling more in control now. "In fact, I'll start, so take note," I tell him, gesturing for him to write down what I say.

Alexander smiles, dipping the quill into the inkwell. "Go ahead."

"Rule Number One: No touching in private," I declare, my voice firm.

"Wait," he interrupts, raising an eyebrow. "We should mention that touching in public is acceptable, though."

"Fine," I concede, "but we need to specify what's okay and what's not."

“Is holding your hand okay?” He looks down at my hands resting on top of the table, and I can't help but blush as I hide them under it.

"Yes, it's okay to hold hands in public," I admit, trying not to stammer.

"Can I hug you?" Alexander asks, his gaze intense enough to make me feel like I'm melting.

"Define hugging," I say, attempting to regain control of my emotions and keep my knees from trembling.

"Do you not know what hugging is?" he teases, smirking at me.

"Light hugging is fine," I answer quickly, "but don't press your body too hard against mine, and warn me before you do it." The words come out in a rush, betraying my nervousness.

"Fine," Alexander says, smiling seductively as he writes it down. As the quill scratches across the paper, he asks, "Can I kiss your hand?"

I picture him getting down on one knee and pressing his lips to my knuckles, a flutter of excitement rising in my chest. "Once in a while," I reply, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Can I kiss your cheeks?" Alexander asks, his gaze softening as he bites his lip lightly. The heat rises from my toes to the top of my head at the question.

"O-only on special occasions," I manage to reply.

He takes his eyes off the paper and looks at me straight away, resting his face on his right hand, tilting his head. His tousled black hair falls against his forehead, and there's a dreamy expression in his piercing amber eyes that makes my heart beat faster.

"And your neck?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

The question catches me off guard, and I give a little shriek. "What, no! Absolutely not!" I stammer, stomping my foot in frustration. "And not kissing me on the lips either!"

Alexander laughs out loud, his laughter rich and warm, filling the room with a sense of ease that I find captivating despite the situation.

"Alright, alright," he says, still chuckling as he leans back in his chair. He meets my gaze with an intensity that makes it hard not to look away. "We should agree on a minimum number of public displays of affection per week to make the engagement more believable."

With a casual tone, he proposes, "How about thirty-five displays of affection per week?"

My jaw drops, and I scoff, leaning back with my arms crossed. This is clearly a provocation. So he likes playing games, huh? "There's no way I'll accept that, and you know it," I say defiantly. "That's five per day. No way."

Feeling uncomfortable with the idea, I try to negotiate it down. "Fine, how about one per week?"

"Twenty," Alexander counters, a playful grin spreading across his face.

"Two," I say, clenching my teeth.

"Fifteen," he insists, not backing down.

"Three," I say, my voice strained with frustration.

"Seven, final offer," Alexander says, his voice firm but gentle.

The thought of engaging in seven public displays of affection each week makes my stomach churn with anxiety, but… "Fine, seven it is," I agree reluctantly.

"Deal." Alexander's smile widens as he writes it down.

"Alright, but I have one more demand," I say, still fuming over having to agree to the displays of affection. "You must make our engagement official with the King of Asteria today. I'll announce it in public at tonight's event, in the presence of the King, and you must play along."

Alexander raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my boldness. "That is quite daring. And tonight… Are you sure about that?" he asks.

I clench my fists and nod, determination burning within me. "Yes, I'm sure."

He studies me for a long moment, as if trying to measure my resolve. Finally, he shrugs nonchalantly. "If you're certain you want to do it tonight, then it works for me."

“Good. So, what’s next?” I reply.

"One more thing from me," Alexander announces, his voice carrying an unexpected chill. "You will accompany me to Ironhold and meet my father, the king." My heart skips a beat, and I can feel the color drain from my face at the mention of King Magnus Hartley. "I must announce our engagement, even if it is fake, to him."

A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of meeting the dreadful King Magnus, Supreme reign of Ironhold. After his defeat at the hands of Asteria, rumors of his madness, driven by an unquenchable thirst for power and vengeance, have only grown. This is the man who ordered my village to be burned to the ground. The realization freezes me in place. No, I can't possibly face him.

I can't do it.

"No," I say firmly, trying to push aside the memories that threaten to swallow me whole. "I won't do it."

Alexander's features harden, his eyes turning into shards of ice. An intense tension fills the space between us, almost tangible as we stare at each other.

"Princess Seraphina," Alexander insists, his anger barely contained behind his words. "You will do this, or there will be no fake engagement."

I breathe in.

How did I get myself into such a mess?