Elliot Cane moved with a sense of urgency, his sharp gaze flickering between his phone and the open space of his penthouse. The tension in the air was palpable as he spoke into the device with the precision of a man used to giving orders.
“We’re going to the court,” he announced matter-of-factly. “A court wedding is simple and efficient. No point in delaying.”
Aeisha, sitting quietly on the couch, could only stare at him in disbelief. Before she could voice her thoughts, Elliot was already instructing someone on the other end of the line. “Bring a stylist and a few white dresses. Something elegant but not over the top.”
His cold, calculated demeanor left no room for protest. This man, who only hours ago had been bleeding in an alley, was now orchestrating a wedding like it was a business transaction. The efficiency with which he moved hinted at a life accustomed to control, leaving Aeisha no choice but to follow along.
An hour later, the penthouse door opened, and a small entourage entered. Two striking men led the way, followed by two women and a team of assistants wheeling in racks of white dresses. The surreal scene felt ripped from the pages of a glossy magazine.
The taller of the two men immediately approached Elliot, his expression one of thinly veiled concern. “We’ve been worried sick,” he said, his tone sharp.
“You disappeared without contacting us,” the other added, his eyes scanning Elliot’s frame.
“I’m fine,” Elliot replied curtly, but Aeisha couldn’t hold her tongue. “He’s hurt,” she blurted out, her voice tinged with worry.
Both men froze, their gazes snapping to Elliot in alarm. “Hurt?” they said in unison, their concern palpable as they began fussing over him like overprotective siblings.
Elliot sighed, his patience clearly waning. “If you two don’t stop, I’ll dangle you outside the penthouse for 24 hours,” he threatened, his tone icy.
The threat worked instantly. Both men fell silent, though their wary glances lingered.
Turning to the women, Elliot issued his next command. “Help her find a suitable dress for the wedding.”
One of the women looked startled. “Wedding?” she exclaimed, her voice rising in surprise. “Who’s getting married?”
Elliot’s icy glare silenced any further questions. He then looked at Aeisha, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Take your time choosing,” he said. “I’ll deal with these two.”
With a hesitant nod, Aeisha allowed the women to guide her into another room, leaving Elliot to handle his business.
Elliot led the two men, Lance and Ace, into his office, the air around him colder than usual.
“Who’s the woman?” Lance asked the moment the door shut. “The one staying with you?”
Elliot leaned casually against his desk, though his tone was anything but relaxed. “She’s the one who saved me last night. I’ve asked her to marry me.”
“Marry?” Ace raised an eyebrow, his tone edged with suspicion. “I know you need someone to marry, but… what if she’s a spy?”
Elliot’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “If she is, she’ll be dead by the end of the day,” he replied, his voice chillingly calm. “That’s why I want you two to find everything there is to know about her. No mistakes.”
Ace nodded reluctantly, though a flicker of doubt remained in his eyes. “And your wound? Is it okay? Do we need to take you to the hospital?”
“The woman took care of it,” Elliot said dismissively, his gaze drifting briefly to his side where the faint ache lingered.
Lance tilted his head, his expression a mix of curiosity and exasperation. “Do you even know her name?”
The question hung in the air, the silence stretching as Elliot hesitated. Instead of answering, he waved them toward the door. “Get moving. I need results by the end of the day.”
Meanwhile, the women worked quickly, dressing Aeisha in a simple off-shoulder gown that fell just above her knees. They adorned her with a delicate wreath, a soft veil cascading lightly over her hair.
“Perfect,” one of them said, stepping back to admire their work.
But Aeisha didn’t feel perfect. She felt like a stranger in a story she didn’t belong to. Yet she couldn’t deny the beauty of the dress or the skill of the women who had crafted her transformation.
When she emerged from the room, Elliot was waiting. His gaze landed on her and lingered, his usually guarded expression softening for a moment too long.
“You look… stunning,” he said, his voice sincere despite the coolness of his demeanor.
A faint blush crept up Aeisha’s cheeks, and she glanced away. “Is it okay?” she asked hesitantly.
“It’s more than okay,” he replied, a faint smile touching his lips.
Elliot stepped closer, taking her hand in his. His touch was warm, a surprising contrast to the coldness of his exterior. “Let’s go,” he said, leading her toward the elevator.
Lance and Ace followed, their sharp eyes watching everything, while the silent men in black trailed behind. As the elevator descended, Elliot turned to Aeisha, his expression unreadable.
“What’s your name?”
The question surprised her. “Aeisha,” she said quietly.
He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “Just Aeisha?”
“Just Aeisha,” she replied, her voice steady despite the strangeness of the moment.
For a man so commanding, his silence after her response felt unexpectedly intimate. As the elevator continued its descent, Aeisha couldn’t shake the question that loomed in her mind—what, exactly, had she agreed to?
