He had saved my life that night, left me in the hospital, and never expected to cross paths again. Yet now, here we are, in this reality, me looking at him like fate had unfinished business. My grip tightened around my glass, jaw clenching as I fought to mask the rush of emotions-shock, disbelief, and something far more dangerous.

"I must offer my deepest apologies for my delay," he said, his voice smooth yet sincere, carrying the quiet grace of someone who never needed to raise it. "I would never wish to keep you waiting, and I can only hope my lateness has not soured the evening." There was no excuse in his tone, only gentle sincerity, as if he truly valued the time of those around him. Then I realized, he looked everyone in the room.

Apart from me.

Irritation.

Ah. So this is how it's going to be.

He hadn't looked at me once. Not even now, when I was sitting right across from him. I exhaled, shaking my head with a quiet chuckle.

"Ignoring me this thoroughly takes effort. I almost have to respect it." I spoke, all eyes were on me, including his, the rest of the people on table looked at me as if I spoke in tongues. But this man, this Kensington, know what I'm talking about. I tilted my head, studying him for a moment.

"Is this a new habit of yours, or am I just lucky to be the recipient of such habit?" Still no reaction, but I caught the slightest shift in his posture-just enough to tell me they heard every word. I hummed, leaning back in my chair.

"Well, if you're trying to make a point, consider it received. Loud and clear." This time, he hesitated. Barely a flicker, but I saw it. Eyes were on me and then back to the irritating uptight man in front of me. I didn't pay them no attention, as my night started to get interesting.

Much interesting.

"This is my grandson, Alexander Kensington." Henry spoke, trying to diffuse the confusion in the room. They all stood up, apart from me. So his name is Alexander, eh? He shook my grandfather's hand. Then Luca's, lastly his green eyes, trembled a little and held his hand to me. I remained in my seat, looked at his and offered to me to shake. Everyone was waiting for me to shake it back, but I had a better idea. I stood up, placed the wine glass on the table, took it and to everyone's surprise, kissed the back of his hand. Discomfort crackled in the air but I didn't care.

All I cared about was his reaction. He turned into a beautiful shade of pink and immediately withdrew his hand, as if burned by my touch. Seraphine cleared her throat for us to continue with the dinner. The dinner ensued, mostly me directly looking at Alexander. He kept to himself, didn't insert in the conversation happening between my grandfather and his grandparents. Eyes plastered on his food as if he's trying to find the lost kingdom of Atlantis on his plate. I took the opportunity to memorize his features that I wasn't able to scrutinize due to the shadow and snow befalls us six months ago.

He was too pretty for his own good. Deep golden-blonde hair-not too polished but still looked like he came out of a hair gel commercial with a few pieces fell forward like it was deliberate but I could tell, that's just how his hair naturally behave. It framed a face that would've been almost delicate if not for the sharp angles of his jaw. His features were refined, almost otherworldly-high cheekbones, a straight nose, and lips that looked too soft for someone of his stature. But it was his eyes that caught me off guard, a striking green, deep and unreadable, like sunlight filtering through a dense forest. Regal, effortless, untouchable. A prince in every sense-except the kind that belonged in fairytales.

Little Prince.

That was the moment I know what his nickname in my head would be. "So, Alexander, what is it that you do?" my grandfather asked Alexander which caught him off guard. He wore that prim and proper masked automatically.

"I have recently completed my Master's degree and seek to carve a path in the world of literature, where words hold power, stories shape minds, and the art of language is both a craft and a calling." A smirk comes across my face. Such a well mannered answer. I saw Henry's eyes turned dismissive, Seraphine's remained unreadable. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

"You disapprove?" I asked Henry. Alexander's eyes widened. I could feel his nerves permeating in the atmosphere.

"Literature? A fine indulgence, perhaps, but hardly a foundation for a legacy. Kensingtons are builders, not dreamers. Tell me, what use is poetry when it cannot hold an empire together?" His tone would be measured, not outright cruel, but firm-making it clear that he sees this ambition as beneath the family name. He didn't answer the question directly. He didn't have to. Dread started to take over, Alexander's spirit doused by his grandfather's rebuttal. I leaned back in my chair, casually swirling the wine in my glass before speaking, my tone smooth but laced with an edge.

"A foundation, a legacy-those are just words, aren't they? And words, as it happens, have shaped empires just as much as steel and wealth. After all, history only remembers the men whose stories are worth telling." I met the Henry's gaze with an easy, unwavering confidence, effortlessly shifting the conversation away from scrutiny, offering Alexander a silent reprieve.

This was the first time Alexander looked at me directly, forest green eyes offering a small thank you as I spoke to Seraphine breaking the tension.

"I think that is a wonderful path to take, don't you think so, Mrs. Kensington?" She offered a smile and placed a hand on Alexander's for comfort.

"Whatever path they take, I am there." Alexander looked at his grandmother and gave a small smile.

"Well that settles it then," Henry spoke this time, but the edge in his voice remained.

"Let's discuss the matter at hand, shall we?" My grandfather shot me a look, none to pleased with me intervening but I didn't care.

Andrew started discussing the living arrangement between me and Alexander. It was tense to say the least, yet unavoidable, a temporary truce forged by necessity. We will reside in a penthouse-neutral ground, chosen for discretion and convenience. Alexander was about to say something when I beat him to it.

"This, penthouse you are speaking of, one of ours?" I was looking at my grandfather for confirmation.

"We have a lot, I don't see why not use one of ours, located in a good location, not used as much with a good distance from our estate and the Kensington's."

"And when are we expect to move in?" Alexander asked.

"Immediately." His grandfather's said with utmost finality. Alexander looks vividly irritated in turn makes me feel the same way. Was he frustrated about the situation or knowing the fact it was me that he's going to live with? What baffles me the most is I have done nothing wrong to this all too perfect heir to the Kensington dynasty, but here he is, visibly displaying discomfort and annoyance I will be living in with him.

The fuck did I do to you, asshole?

Alexander just remained silent as the dessert has been set. "How long must we live together?" I asked, not caring if my annoyance was visible in my tone.

"Until we find your bride-to-be." I leaned on my chair.

"And us living together is imperative because?" I challenged.

"Because perception is everything," Henry said smoothly, voice measured yet unwavering.

"A missing bride is a scandal, a sign of instability-something neither of our families can afford. The arrangement must appear intact until she is found." I saw my grandfather close his fist. As much as he wants to disagree, he knows Henry has a point. Henry glanced toward Alexander, his gaze cool, assessing.

"My grandson's presence ensures continuity. His twin may be absent, but the Kensington name remains steady. If you live together, the deal holds firm for both parties." Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he added "Besides, Alexander is the closest link to his sister. If anyone can anticipate her actions, it is him. It is only practical that he remains at your side until Anastasia is recovered."

His words were final-undeniable logic wrapped in the unyielding authority of a man who never entertained defiance. My grandfather looked at me briefly his hand now folded into a fist. "Henry is right and you know this." He admitted even though he doesn't want to.

"The involvement of your family complicates matters," Henry spoke once again, voice smooth but edged with quiet authority. "This is not merely an engagement but a merging of two legacies, and any instability will be seen as a weakness. Your world does not allow for such vulnerabilities, does it?" His gaze sharpened.

"Until your bride is found, this arrangement must hold-if only to prevent opportunists from exploiting the situation. If the wrong people sense disorder, they will strike. And I suspect neither of us is willing to entertain the consequences of that." He allowed the weight of his words to settle before continuing, his tone almost dismissive.

"Alexander's presence provides an illusion of stability. Whether it is a comforting one or a dangerous one is up to you, Andrew." Much as I hate to admit it, he was right. Damn it. My grandfather responded in a short nod. As the last course was cleared, Henry dabbed his lips with a linen napkin and set it aside with practiced precision.

"I trust this discussion has been enlightening," his gaze shifting between me and Alexander with measured weight. Alexander, still avoiding my eyes, murmured a polite, "Thank you for the meal," while his posture remained composed, a mask of indifference carefully in place. I, on the other hand, leaned back slightly, studying the older man with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Enlightening, indeed." Reginald entered to refill their glasses, but Henry lifted a hand, dismissing the offer. "I believe that concludes our evening." He stood, his presence commanding enough that the room seemed to shift with him.

"Atlas, I expect you'll ensure there are no...complications in the coming days." A knowing silence settled between us. I merely gave a slow nod.

"Wouldn't dream of it." As we rose from the table, Alexander turned swiftly, eager to escape, but my voice caught him just before he could leave.