Chapter 2:The man in the storm

Alexander Blackstone stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of his corner office on the forty-second floor, watching the rain transform Manhattan into an impressionist painting. From this height, the people below looked like ants scurrying for shelter, their individual struggles invisible and insignificant. He envied them their anonymity.

"Mr. Blackstone?" His assistant's voice crackled through the intercom. "Your grandfather is here."

Alex didn't turn from the window. He'd been expecting this visit, had been dreading it for weeks. Jonathan Blackstone didn't make social calls, especially not to the office. When the patriarch of the Blackstone dynasty came calling, it meant business—the kind that usually left Alex feeling like he was twelve years old again, being lectured about duty and legacy.

"Send him in, Rachel."

The door opened with the kind of soft efficiency that cost more than most people's cars. Alex heard the measured tap of his grandfather's walking stick against the polished marble floor, each step as deliberate and commanding as the man himself.

"Alexander."

Alex finally turned. At seventy-eight, Jonathan Blackstone still cut an imposing figure. Silver-haired, sharp-eyed, wearing a suit that probably cost more than some people's annual salary. He carried himself with the absolute confidence of a man who had built an empire from nothing and watched it flourish for half a century.

"Grandfather." Alex gestured to the seating area near the windows. "Coffee?"

"This isn't a social call." Jonathan settled into the leather chair with the careful movements of age trying to disguise itself. "We need to discuss your future."

Alex poured himself a scotch instead of coffee, even though it was barely three in the afternoon. Some conversations required fortification. "Which aspect of my future are we dissecting today?"

"Don't be glib, boy. It doesn't suit you." Jonathan's tone carried the weight of disappointment that Alex had been hearing his entire life. "You're thirty-two years old. The heir to a billion-dollar empire. And you're living like a hermit."

"I'm living like a man who values his privacy."

"You're living like a man who's given up." Jonathan leaned forward, his pale blue eyes—so like Alex's own—boring into his grandson. "When was the last time you attended a social function? When was the last time you were seen in public with a woman? When was the last time you acted like the future of this family instead of its most expensive recluse?"

Alex took a long sip of his scotch, letting the burn ground him. They'd had this conversation before, in various forms. His grandfather's concerns weren't entirely unfounded—Alex had become something of a ghost in the three years since the accident. But he'd had his reasons, good ones, even if they weren't reasons he cared to share.

"My personal life doesn't affect my ability to run this company."

"Doesn't it?" Jonathan pulled out a folder from his briefcase, the kind of folder that Alex had learned to associate with life-changing pronouncements. "The board is concerned. They see a CEO who's isolated himself from the very society we do business with. They wonder about your stability, your long-term commitment to the role."

"The board can wonder all they want. My numbers speak for themselves."

"Numbers aren't everything, Alexander. This business, this family, we operate in a world where perception matters. Where relationships matter. Where being seen as a strong, stable leader matters." Jonathan slid the folder across the coffee table. "Which brings me to the real reason for my visit."

Alex stared at the folder like it might contain a bomb. Knowing his grandfather, it very well might. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

"Your father's will included certain... provisions. Ones we haven't discussed because I hoped you'd resolve this situation on your own."

"What provisions?"

Jonathan's smile was the kind that sharks probably practiced in mirrors. "To inherit full control of Blackstone Global, you must be married by your thirty-third birthday."

The scotch glass slipped from Alex's hand, hitting the coffee table with a sharp crack. He stared at his grandfather, certain he'd misheard. "Excuse me?"

"You heard correctly. Your father believed that a man in your position needed the stability that comes with marriage. He worried about the Blackstone legacy ending with you." Jonathan's voice was matter-of-fact, as if he was discussing the weather rather than Alex's entire future. "I've delayed enforcing this clause, hoping you'd find someone on your own. But your birthday is in six months, and you show no signs of even trying."

Alex stood up abruptly, pacing to the window and back. "This is insane. You can't possibly be serious."

"I'm completely serious. The will is ironclad—I made sure of that myself when your father drafted it." Jonathan leaned back in his chair, looking pleased with himself. "Marry by June fifteenth, or control of the company passes to the board of trustees. Permanently."

"And what if I refuse? What if I walk away from all of it?"

"Then you'll be walking away from everything your father built, everything your grandfather before him sacrificed for. You'll be abandoning your responsibility to this family, to the thousands of people who depend on Blackstone Global for their livelihoods." Jonathan's voice hardened. "Is that really the man you want to be?"

Alex felt the familiar weight of expectation settling on his shoulders like a lead blanket. This was the Blackstone way—duty above desire, responsibility above personal happiness. He'd been raised on these principles, had them drilled into him from the moment he could understand what it meant to be the heir to an empire.

But marriage? Marriage was the one thing he'd sworn he'd never do again, not after—

"I need time to think about this."

"You have six months. Use them wisely." Jonathan stood, smoothing down his impeccable suit. "And Alexander? I'd suggest you start thinking seriously about what kind of woman would make a suitable wife for a Blackstone. This isn't about love—it's about alliance, stability, and maintaining our position in society."

After his grandfather left, Alex stood alone in his office, staring out at the storm raging beyond the glass. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the city in stark, momentary clarity before plunging it back into gray uncertainty.

Marriage of convenience. It shouldn't have been such a foreign concept—his parents' marriage had been exactly that, a strategic alliance between two powerful families. His father had explained it to him once, during one of their rare heart-to-heart conversations.

"Love is a luxury, son. When you carry the weight of legacy, you make choices based on what's best for the family, not what makes you happy."

But Alex had been young and idealistic then. He'd believed he could have both—duty and love, responsibility and happiness. He'd believed that right up until the night his world shattered on a rain-slicked highway.

His phone buzzed. A text message from David Torres, his best friend and CFO.

Heard your grandfather left the building looking smug. Should I be worried?

Alex typed back: Only if you consider my being forced into marriage worrying.

His phone rang immediately.

"Please tell me you're joking," David's voice crackled through the speaker.

"I wish I were." Alex slumped into his chair, suddenly feeling every one of his thirty-two years. "My father's will. Apparently I need a wife by my birthday, or I lose control of the company."

"Jesus, Alex. What are you going to do?"

"I have no idea." Alex rubbed his temples, feeling a headache brewing. "Where exactly does one go to find a wife for hire?"

"You're really considering this?"

"What choice do I have? This company isn't just my livelihood, David. It's thousands of jobs, millions in charitable contributions, decades of family legacy. I can't just walk away because I don't want to get married."

"But marriage, Alex... after Sarah..."

Sarah. Even hearing her name was like pressing on a bruise that had never quite healed. Sarah Winters, his fiancée, the woman who was supposed to have been his wife, his partner, his future. The woman who had died because of his arrogance and their mutual stubbornness about a fight that, in hindsight, had been about nothing at all.

"Sarah's gone." Alex's voice was flat, emotionless. "She died three years ago because I was an idiot who had to prove a point. This isn't about love, David. This is about business. Pure and simple."

"Alex—"

"I need to find a woman who needs money more than she needs romance. Someone who can play the part convincingly but won't expect anything real from me." Alex was thinking out loud now, his business mind taking over. "Someone with nothing to lose and everything to gain."

"That sounds incredibly cold, even for you."

"Cold is what I do best these days." Alex looked out at the storm again, watching the lightning illuminate the city in brief, brilliant flashes. "I just need to find the right woman. Someone desperate enough to say yes to a stranger's proposal."

As if summoned by his thoughts, another bolt of lightning split the sky, and Alex found himself wondering if somewhere out there in the storm, his future wife was having just as bad a day as he was.