Chapter 6: Dare to Bet Against Me Now?
Alexander's POV
I tapped my fingers on the polished mahogany desk, skimming through the day’s interview results. Another batch of disappointments. My office door creaked open after a quick knock, and Jason sauntered in, his cocky grin intact despite the late hour. As VP and head of R&D at Claflin Enterprises, he was one of the few who could barge in unannounced.
“So, how’d the interviews go, Alexander?” he asked, flopping into the chair across from me like he owned the damn place.
“Not a single fucking one made the cut,” I snapped, my tone sharp enough to cut glass.
Jason leaned forward, a smirk playing on his lips. “Funny story. I was in the lobby earlier and overheard some chick tearing into you. Called you an ‘arrogant asshole’ with a ‘god complex’ who ‘wouldn’t know talent if it bitch-slapped you.’” He chuckled. “Reception said she was one of today’s applicants. Who the hell’s got the balls to trash-talk Alexander Claflin in his own damn building?”
I arched a brow, unimpressed. “That would be my grandfather’s brilliant fucking marriage arrangement. Nora Frost.”
Jason’s eyes damn near popped out. “No shit? Wait… Nora Frost? Why’s that name ringing bells?” His face lit up. “Holy fuck! She’s the genius behind Skynova, the formula that flipped the skincare industry on its ass last year!”
“Am I supposed to give a damn?” I shot back, voice icy.
“What game you playin’, man?” Jason laughed, shaking his head. “The CEO personally interviewing R&D candidates, just to reject his own wife? I’d pay to see that shitshow.”
I leaned back, arms crossed. “If my grandfather hadn’t forced this bullshit marriage on me, I wouldn’t spare that woman a second glance. She’s crude, money-grubbing, and desperate to sink her claws into Claflin Enterprises. She’ll come crawling back, begging for scraps.”
Jason’s smirk faded, replaced by a rare serious look. “You’ve got it all wrong, bro. Nora Frost is legit talent in formulation. Rejecting her is Claflin’s loss, not hers.”
“Simple,” I countered, voice dripping with menace. “One word from me, and no company in Kingsley City will touch her.”
Jason sat up, locking eyes with me. “You’re dead wrong. If it were my call, I’d hire her ass in a heartbeat.”
“Is that so?” I challenged, a dangerous edge to my tone.
“Let’s make a bet,” Jason fired back, a glint of defiance in his eyes. “If any company in Kingsley City hires Nora within a week—risking your wrath for her skills—you let her join Claflin Enterprises.”
I smirked. “And when I win?”
“Name your price,” Jason shrugged.
“Fine,” I agreed. “We’ll fucking see.”
Jason pivoted, his tone suddenly casual but loaded. “Speaking of interesting women, what was that little moment with Daisy, our new marketing director, today? The whole office saw you holding her hand in front of everyone.”
I shot him a glare that could kill. “She got knocked down by my so-called wife. I was just helping her up, asshole.”
“Right,” Jason drawled, dripping with sarcasm. “Just playing the gentleman. Nothing to do with how you haven’t looked at a woman since Vivian fucked off. Even when they’re throwing themselves at you buck-naked.”
“Don’t be a dumbass,” I growled. “But Daisy… she’s intriguing. She’s from the Traynor family in Highcrest City, yet she’s here, working a regular gig instead of sipping champagne at galas.”
Jason’s jaw dropped. “The Traynors? As in the empire Traynors? What the hell’s she doing slumming it here?”
“That’s what I want to know,” I admitted, voice low. “Keep this quiet. And make sure she’s treated right. If her brother finds out she’s getting screwed over here, shit will hit the fan.”
By the time I dragged myself home, my head was already on tomorrow’s board meeting. I’d barely touched my damn dinner when Nora decided to pick a fight.
“You didn’t even give me a fair shot today,” she snapped, hacking at her steak like it personally offended her.
I fixed her with a cold stare. “You took my money, became Mrs. Claflin, and now you want a spot in my company? What’s your angle? A girl from your shitty little background—what the fuck did you do to con my grandfather into picking you?” I sipped my wine, eyes narrowing. “Planning to sweet-talk him into handing over shares next? Save your breath.”
Her face flushed with rage. “If being a Claflin wife was such a goddamn honor, do you think it would’ve fallen to me?”
My expression darkened, a storm brewing. “Go on. Spit it out. What do you really think?”
“Everyone knows why,” she shot back, venom in her voice. “Not a single woman in Kingsley City would marry you willingly.” Her eyes flickered with regret the second the words slipped out.
The rumors. Whispers that I was a vegetable, disfigured beyond recognition, on death’s door. That I needed a wife to pop out an heir before I croaked. The whole damn city ate it up, laughing behind my back while I clawed my way back to power.
“Do you know what happens to people who cross me in the Claflin family?” I asked, my voice a deadly whisper, each word laced with threat.
Her chin jutted out defiantly, but she kept her mouth shut.
I shoved my chair back and stormed out of the dining room, appetite gone. Upstairs, I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom, staring out over the estate grounds.
Nearly a week, and still no trace of the woman from the club. How the fuck does a living, breathing person vanish like that? The memory of her body pressed against mine, her scent, her taste—it haunted me. She’d awakened something I thought was long dead. I had to find her, no matter what it took.
