Ten

The crackle of the fireplace was the only sound that filled the study as I sat behind my mahogany desk, sipping whiskey from a crystal tumbler. Outside, the skies were a dull grey, matching the mood that had been swirling inside me for days. Ivy had been progressing well, at least on the surface, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper was brewing beneath her poised demeanor.

Rebecca, ever punctual, entered the room without knocking. She never needed to. Her presence was as much a fixture in my life as the mansion itself. She wore her usual tailored elegance—black trousers and a pearl blouse—but there was a softness in her expression that always made me feel like a boy again. Despite her composed exterior, Rebecca was the closest thing I had to a mother.

"Alexander," she said, settling into the chair across from me. "You've been avoiding this conversation for long enough."

I raised an eyebrow but remained silent, waiting for her to continue. Rebecca had always known when to push and when to wait for me to speak. Tonight, it seemed, she was in no mood for games.

"You wanted Ivy Logan for this role," she began, her voice measured, "but we haven't clearly defined what that entails. The girl has potential, but I see uncertainty in her. It's time we clarify what exactly you expect from her."

I exhaled slowly and placed the glass down on the table. She was right, of course. Ivy wasn't just here to be some doll to dress up for society's events. The stakes were higher, and the role I needed her to play was far more intricate than what she may have expected. But Rebecca also understood that the situation was delicate.

"I know you've been working with her on the etiquette and the styling," I said, leaning back in my chair, "but the truth is, her job is more than that. It's not just about accompanying me to dinners or being my fiancée in the eyes of the world. She's here to uphold an image. My image."

Rebecca tilted her head slightly, her lips pressed in a thin line, waiting for me to elaborate.

"Ivy is to be seen as an extension of me," I continued. "In every interaction, every word she speaks, she represents the Grayson name. And more importantly, she represents control—our control over the situation. If this arrangement is to work, she can't afford to have any cracks in that veneer."

Rebecca folded her hands in her lap, listening intently. "You believe she can handle this?"

"She's resilient. I've seen it. But whether she can rise to the occasion... that's what we need to find out."

Rebecca's gaze softened for a moment as she studied me. "Alexander, are you sure that's all you expect from her? That she simply fits into your world without question?"

Her question lingered in the air between us, striking a nerve I hadn't anticipated. Of course, Rebecca knew me better than anyone. She had been by my side through every phase of my life—through the loss, the business struggles, and the empire I had built from the ashes of my father's legacy. She had practically raised me, and it was clear she saw something in this situation that went beyond business.

I cleared my throat, keeping my voice level. "I need her to be perfect, Rebecca. For the sake of everything we've worked for."

"And do you think that's fair?" she asked quietly. "To expect perfection from someone who's been thrown into this life without any preparation?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. I knew where she was going with this, but I wasn't ready to face it. Ivy was here for a reason, and that reason didn't include sentimentality or weakness. She was here to play her part, just as I had mine since the day I took over the family business.

"She knew what she was getting into," I replied, though the words felt hollow even as I said them.

Rebecca's eyes softened further, and her voice lowered to a gentle tone. "Perhaps. But you also know that people aren't chess pieces, Alexander. They're not meant to be moved around a board for a desired outcome."

I met her gaze, feeling a flicker of irritation. "I'm aware of that, Rebecca. But I don't have the luxury of sentiment in this matter. This arrangement is as much about protecting her as it is about protecting me."

She nodded, as though she had expected that response. "And that's what worries me. You're protecting her, but from what? The outside world, or yourself?"

The question hung in the air, more intimate than I'd anticipated. Rebecca had never shied away from calling me out when necessary, but this time it felt different—closer to home.

"I don't know," I said, quieter than I meant to. It was the first time I'd admitted it out loud, even to myself. "Maybe both."

Rebecca smiled slightly, the kind of smile that comes with knowing someone for too long. She rose from her chair and walked to the window, looking out at the darkening sky.

"Ivy Logan is not a pawn, Alexander. She's a person. If you want her to succeed in this role, you need to see her as more than just an asset."

I leaned forward, elbows resting on my desk. "And what do you suggest? That I soften? That I let her in?"

Rebecca turned back toward me, her expression unreadable. "I suggest you stop viewing this as a transaction. You've put her in a position where she's expected to carry the weight of your name and your business. That's a heavy burden for anyone, let alone someone with no experience in this world."

Her words struck deeper than I cared to admit. I wasn't used to being questioned like this—especially by someone who knew the stakes as well as Rebecca did. But she was right. I had to reevaluate my approach.

"I'll think about it," I finally said.

Rebecca's eyes softened again, and she walked over to my desk, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I know you will. You always do. But remember, Alexander... Ivy's success is not just about how well she performs the role you've given her. It's about whether she can be herself within that role."

As she turned to leave the room, I found myself staring into the fire, her words echoing in my mind. Ivy Logan was more than just a piece in this game, but acknowledging that meant opening a door I wasn't sure I wanted to walk through.

After all, letting someone in was more dangerous than anything else.