The Bride by Agreement

The Grant family's monthly board meeting was held in the executive conference room on the fortieth floor of the Grant Industries building. Riley had never been to Alexander's office before, and she was struck by how perfectly the space reflected its occupant – sleek, modern, and intimidatingly efficient.

"Mrs. Grant," Alexander's assistant, Margaret, greeted her with a practiced smile. "Mr. Grant is waiting for you in his office."

Riley followed her through a maze of cubicles and corner offices, aware of the curious stares from employees. Word of Alexander's sudden marriage had spread through the company like wildfire, and she could practically feel the speculation in the air.

Alexander's office was a corner suite with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. He was standing behind his desk, speaking rapidly into his phone in what sounded like German. When he saw her, he held up one finger and concluded his call.

"Punctual as always," he said, glancing at his watch. "Are you ready for this?"

"Define ready," Riley said, smoothing her navy blazer. She had chosen her outfit carefully – professional but not trying too hard, expensive but not ostentatious.

"The board members are... protective of the family interests," Alexander said, straightening his tie. "They'll want to assess whether you're a suitable addition to the Grant legacy."

"Suitable how?"

"Whether you'll be an asset or a liability to the company's reputation. Whether you understand the responsibilities that come with the Grant name." He paused, studying her face. "Whether you'll stay."

The last comment caught her off guard. "Stay?"

"They're aware that our courtship was brief," Alexander said carefully. "They may have concerns about the... durability of our union."

Riley understood. The board was worried she was a gold-digger who would take Alexander for half his fortune in a messy divorce. If only they knew the truth was far more complicated.

"What do you need me to do?" she asked.

"Be yourself," Alexander said, then caught himself. "Be the version of yourself that fell in love with me at first sight and couldn't wait to become my wife."

The irony wasn't lost on either of them.

The conference room was filled with men in expensive suits and women in pearls and power blazers. Riley recognized several faces from the society pages – these were the titans of New York's business world, the people who moved markets with their decisions.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Alexander said, his hand settling on the small of Riley's back, "I'd like you to meet my wife, Riley."

The reactions were immediate and varied. Some faces showed polite interest, others barely concealed skepticism. An elderly woman with silver hair and piercing blue eyes – Victoria Grant, Alexander's great-aunt and the family matriarch – studied Riley with the intensity of a hawk examining potential prey.

"So you're the young woman who captured our Alexander's heart," Victoria said, her voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. "How romantic. Tell us, dear, how did you two meet?"

Riley had rehearsed this story, but performing it in front of this audience felt like walking through a minefield. "We met at a charity gala," she said, finding her voice. "I was there representing a literacy nonprofit, and Alexander was one of the sponsors. We started talking about the importance of education, and..." She glanced at Alexander, who was watching her with an unreadable expression. "We just clicked."

"How lovely," Victoria said dryly. "And what did you do before you became a Grant?"

"I'm a screenwriter," Riley said, lifting her chin slightly. "I write for television and film."

"How... creative," said Harold Grant, Alexander's uncle and the company's Chief Operating Officer. "And are you planning to continue this... hobby... now that you're married?"

The dismissive tone made Riley's temper flare, but she kept her voice steady. "It's not a hobby, it's my career. And yes, I plan to continue writing."

"Of course you do," Victoria said, and Riley couldn't tell if she was being mocked or praised. "Alexander, you didn't mention your wife was so... independent."

"It's one of the things I admire most about her," Alexander said smoothly, his hand moving to Riley's shoulder in a gesture that could have been possessive or protective. "Riley doesn't need anyone to take care of her – she chooses to be here."

Riley felt a flutter of surprise at the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, it almost sounded like he meant it.

The questions continued for another twenty minutes. Riley fielded inquiries about her family (middle-class, hardworking), her education (state university on scholarship), and her long-term goals (continuing to write while supporting Alexander's work). She could feel the room's assessment of her shifting – she wasn't what they had expected, and they weren't sure what to make of her.

"Well," Victoria said finally, "I think we've interrogated the poor girl enough. Alexander, you've chosen an interesting wife. I hope you know what you're doing."

"I always know what I'm doing, Aunt Victoria," Alexander replied, but Riley detected a note of tension in his voice.

As the meeting broke up, Riley found herself approached by several board members. Some were genuinely welcoming, others were clearly fishing for information about her intentions and background. She navigated the conversations as best she could, aware that Alexander was watching her from across the room.

"Mrs. Grant," a voice said behind her. She turned to find a woman about her age with auburn hair and intelligent green eyes. "I'm Caroline Winters, head of the foundation's education initiative."

"Nice to meet you," Riley said, grateful for a friendly face.

"I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your comments about literacy programs," Caroline said. "We're always looking for fresh perspectives on our board. Would you be interested in getting involved?"

Riley felt a spark of genuine interest. "I'd love to know more."

"Excellent. I'll have my assistant send you some information." Caroline glanced around the room, then leaned closer. "And between you and me, you handled Victoria beautifully. She respects people who stand up to her."

After the board members had left, Riley found herself alone with Alexander in his office. The sun was setting over the city, casting long shadows across the room.

"How do you think I did?" she asked.

Alexander loosened his tie and sat on the edge of his desk. "Better than I expected, if I'm being honest. Victoria doesn't approve of anyone easily, but I think she respects you."

"She thinks I'm a gold-digger who's going to embarrass the family."

"She thinks you're a potential wild card who might actually be good for me," Alexander corrected. "There's a difference."

Riley moved to the window, looking out at the city lights beginning to twinkle in the growing darkness. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we had met differently? If this was real?"

The question hung in the air between them. Riley hadn't meant to ask it, but the words had slipped out.

"I try not to wonder about things that can't be changed," Alexander said quietly.

"That's not an answer."

He was quiet for so long that Riley thought he wasn't going to respond. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yes. I wonder."

Riley turned to look at him, but he was staring out the window, his expression unreadable.

"We should go," he said abruptly, standing and reaching for his jacket. "I have an early meeting tomorrow."

As they rode down in the elevator, Riley felt the weight of unspoken words between them. She had the distinct impression that they had just crossed some invisible line, but she wasn't sure what it meant or where it would lead them.

All she knew was that their carefully constructed arrangement was becoming more complicated with each passing day.