Arranged To Be|18+✔️

'6

I followed him out of the elevator and down a pristine hallway. Behind a sleek white desk sat a woman, flipping through some files. She looked up and her face immediately lit up.

"Czar!" she said happily, standing to greet him.

She was stunning. Golden blonde hair, legs for days, and a lean modelesque figure. Her hazel eyes were wide and framed with impossibly long lashes. Full lips, flawless skin—she looked like she belonged on the cover of Vogue.

"Kira," Czar acknowledged with a single nod.

She kept smiling—practically glowing—until his voice turned more formal.

"This is my fiancée, Zariah. Zariah, meet Kira."

Kira's smile faltered as she turned to me. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said politely.

I shook her hand with the same fake smile she gave me. "Pleasure's mine."

She quickly dropped my hand and returned her attention to Czar. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, but we have a meeting in ten. Be there."

"Of course, sir," she said, grinning wider.

I glanced at her once more before following Czar into his office and shutting the door behind us.

I didn't wait long. "Do you sleep with all your assistants?"

Czar raised a brow as he took his seat. "Kira is just my assistant. We've never been intimate."

"She called you by your first name. Most people call you Kuzmich."

"She's closer to me than most staff. But it's not what you're implying."

He busied himself flipping through files.

I crossed my legs and leaned back in the chair across from him. "When can I start working?"

His eyes rose to meet mine. "Never."

I frowned. "No. I won't sit around and do nothing just because I'm married to you. I have dreams, and I intend to reach them."

He set the papers down and leaned back. "And what is it you want to do?"

"I want to be a fashion designer. That's what I studied. I want my own line one day—celebrity-endorsed, high-fashion, global."

He nodded once. "I'll make it happen."

I blinked. "Wait—what?"

"Don't worry about it."

I opened my mouth to press him, but a knock interrupted us. He pressed the intercom.

"Yes?"

Kira's voice floated through. "The meeting is starting, sir."

"Okay."

He stood.

"What am I supposed to do while you're gone?" I asked.

"You're coming."

I groaned. "I don't want to sit through a meeting."

"It's not up for debate, Zariah."

He turned to leave. I considered staying put—until he walked back in.

"Try me. I'll carry you there if I have to."

I huffed, got up, and followed. Kira latched onto his side, chattering about something I didn't care to hear. I kept pace, ignoring her entirely.

The conference room was packed—men in suits, all older, all trying too hard. Czar sat at the head of the table. I took the seat to his left. Kira to his right.

"So," Czar said, steepling his fingers, "what do you have for me today?"

One man stood and began a presentation using a projector. I zoned out within five minutes. My eyelids grew heavy.

But just as I started to drift, a hand landed on my thigh.

I jolted. A man beside me was staring, smirking, fingers digging into my skin.

I slapped his hand hard. The sound echoed in the room.

"Zariah?" Czar's voice cut through the tension as I rose to my feet, nausea swirling in my stomach.

"What happened?" he asked again, now standing.

I couldn't form the words. My mouth opened, then closed. "H-he..."

Czar didn't wait.

His fist connected with the man's face, sending him flying backward. Gasps erupted. Chairs scraped. The room exploded into chaos as Czar pounced on him, fists slamming over and over into bloodied skin.

"Czar!" I shouted, rushing to him. I grabbed his shoulder. "That's enough!"

He shook me off.

I shoved harder. "Czar, stop!"

Finally, I slid between him and the limp man on the floor. "It's enough!"

He froze, panting, eyes wild. Then he looked at me.

And stopped.

He pulled me away gently and glared around the room. "You're all fired. Every single one of you."

The silence was deafening.

He dragged me out of the room, fingers wrapped tightly around mine, and shoved the elevator button.

Inside, he was shaking, muttering Russian curses under his breath.

I stepped in front of him, gently placing my hands on his face. "Hey. Hey. Look at me. Breathe. I'm okay. You're okay. Just breathe."

His breathing slowed. His eyes found mine.

"He touched you."

"Just my thigh. You handled it. I'm fine."

He nodded slowly.

I glanced down at his hands. Bloodied. Again.

"When we get home, I'm wrapping these. Don't argue."

He nodded.

I smiled faintly, but he turned away.

~*~

Back at the house, we both went upstairs. Czar disappeared into the shower while I grabbed the first aid kit. When he came out, towel low on his waist, I nearly forgot what I was doing.

"Sit," I said, pointing to the bed.

He obeyed, and I knelt in front of him, cleaning the wounds gently.

He didn't flinch as the alcohol hit raw skin.

"I don't like this," he muttered.

"What?"

"Being taken care of. Makes me feel weak."

"You're not weak," I said, wrapping his hand. "You're just dramatic."

He huffed, almost a smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, you big baby."

He rolled his eyes but didn't deny it. I laughed as I packed up the kit and walked toward the door.

But I couldn't help thinking about those cold, ocean-blue eyes—and how, for the first time, they'd softened just a little for me.

~*~

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