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Lady Clara Louise Alberta was his fiancée – a choice he had no say in. It was a political marriage, one that both sides reap immense benefits from.

Clara was a blueblood, descended from a long line of royals – no longer in power – and a ladder for the Luciano Clan to the upper caste of the society, the beau monde.

Luciano Clan might be powerful but they’re all known for the wrong things – the mafia. A business built on blood, death, and betrayal, a den of wolves where only the fittest survive – a life he was cursed to by being the son of his father.

How does the royal Alberta Clan benefit from this unholy union? Although the monarchy system has long been abolished, the Alberta Clan has many resources but lacks one thing.

Protection.

Thanks to their name and power, they attract enemies, each of their heirs, an enticing conquest to be won. Hence while they protect them, the Luciano Clan would as well bask in their glory, their glorified legacy.

.....

For the first time, the Luciano Clan would not only be feared but envied – as his father wanted. His great urge to “belong” with the true bourgeois would be granted with their union.

Although they were polite to each other, it was clear that there was no love lost between Marcel and Clara. While Clara looked down on Marcel, perceiving him as nothing less than a barbarian – a stain to her would have been perfect life – Marcel was disgusted with her overbearing arrogance. She perceived everyone else as below her when in reality, all she had was a title and a heritage.

Even the thought of touching her disgusted Marcel and he had no doubt she felt the same way. But then, he wouldn’t be able to prolong it, not on their wedding night. They would have to sleep with each other because his father would only relax when he has an heir from them.

Such was the fate bestowed to Marcel, not that he had another alternative anyway. Marrying for love was not for him – an impossible dream- one that would send him to the grave. His father would cast him off at the first sign of weakness. He can’t be weak.

“Staying here would not delay the inevitable,” Macy reminded him.

She had returned from delivering that little chihuahua – he still had no idea what he to do with – at his place. Macy was his assistant and an efficient one at that – including warming his bed. She was among the few people he rarely trusted and she took care of him, including his needs. It was all business and pleasure at the same time.

However, just because they get between the sheets doesn’t mean they’re together. Macy knows her place and makes sure no trace of ambition springs up. It was just a job, one she willingly provided. She was not stupid to blind herself with the illusion of love because he, Marcel, was devoted to his cause – and family.

And now, his cause was getting married to the Alberta princess whether he likes it or not.

Marcel grumbled low in his throat, he was not afraid of some proud princess rather he was wary of her. For someone who was of loyal blood, she sure plays dirty.

Macy was the definition of perfection, with her blonde hair trimmed into a bob with no strand out of place, sharp blue calculating eyes, and dainty lips. Right now, she tipped her head in a way that taunted him yet stayed in check as well. She knows he doesn’t take lightly to disrespect.

“She said I should be here, she didn’t exactly state where,” Marcel exploited the loophole in Clara’s order.

Macy only smirked at his smartness.

They were right outside Clara’s home and though they could hear the sound of music blasting through the speakers, he made no move to leave. Not that the men standing guard outside would force him out for staying at the lawn in his car inconspicuously. They were his men. Most of the guards who worked here were from their forces, honoring the bargain made already. All that was left was the union between their children – which should be happening sometime around this year.

Marcel didn’t give a thought to his wedding preparation, his father was in charge, nor did he look forward to a happy life with that pretender with many masks.

“So you’re going to stay here all night,” She said, yet hinted at another when she wrapped her arms around her chest, those ample blossoms teasing him with a sneak peek.

Marcel knew what she was offering, but tonight, he preferred another variety – spicer, fiery. If he was going to bed, he would need a redhead on his bed.

Clara knows what he does behind her back nor does she bother to hide hers from him as well. They owe each other no swore of loyalty nor accountability making it much easier to tolerate one another. Everything between them was purely business and one day, their bind would surely snap. That was for sure.

“No, I shouldn’t stay here,”

Macy saw the rejection coming before Marcel could speak and for a moment he almost saw a trace of disappointment on her face, but it was gone before he could even blink. Marcel didn’t care anyway, whatever Macy felt for him was her own mess to take care of.

“I’m leaving,” He said, almost stepping out of the car when she implored,

“Can I come?” she added immediately, “Sir?” upon realizing they’ve gone back to being formal. Marcel might favor her, even then, there was a limit to his leniency. Marcel doesn’t rule with emotion, because he doesn’t have one.

“No, stay here,” a simple command she didn’t dare disobey. Just because she’s his favorite doesn’t mean she’s irreplaceable.

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