*So this is why they call him a mad dog.*
The thought surfaced unbidden as Adelina watched the Duke settle more comfortably into his seat, utterly at ease despite the tension crackling through the carriage. She squeezed the damp handkerchief in her lap, drawing what little strength she could from the gesture.
"I don't believe," she said carefully, "that valuing practicality is vulgar."
Alexio's eyes narrowed—not with displeasure, but with something more complex. Suspicion and interest tangled together in that violet gaze, as though she had said something unexpected.
"Remarkable." His voice carried a note of genuine surprise. "That's precisely what the rest of the nobility *does* think. They whisper it behind their fans while pretending otherwise."
He studied her for a moment longer, then seemed to reach some internal decision.
"Very well. Since the princess has requested directness, I'll dispense with pleasantries and speak plainly."
*Pleasantries?* Adelina nearly laughed. Which part of their conversation had qualified as *pleasant*? He'd admitted to sabotaging her carriage, kidnapped her into his vehicle, and now sat across from her like a predator sizing up prey.
But the Duke didn't wait for her response. He simply continued, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather.
"Sell yourself to me, Princess."
The words landed like a slap.
"I will pay handsomely," he continued, utterly unperturbed. "Whatever my stepmother has offered your father, I will double it."
*Sell yourself.*
Adelina's lips pressed into a thin line. The phrasing was deliberately crude—the kind of language one might use with a courtesan, not a princess of royal blood. Being dragged into a stranger's carriage was already an outrage. Being addressed like *merchandise* was something else entirely.
"How remarkably rude." Her voice came out colder than she intended. "Is buying and selling people truly legal in this kingdom? I wasn't aware we'd reverted to such barbarism."
Alexio didn't flinch. If anything, his expression grew more amused.
"I'll concede the phrasing was indelicate." He tilted his head, studying her reaction with evident fascination. "But Prince Roche has already put his daughter on the market. So forgive me if your indignation rings somewhat... hollow."
The words struck like a physical blow.
"*What?*"
Adelina's composure shattered. She stared at him, all pretense of dignified calm forgotten.
"My father... *put me up for sale?*"
She remembered Arthur's tirade from the other day—his insistence that she needed a husband, his dismissal of her protests. She had assumed it was merely another lecture. Empty threats. Paternal bluster.
But this...
The Duke watched her crumble with infuriating detachment. Not a flicker of sympathy crossed his handsome features.
"You didn't know?" His tone suggested mild curiosity, nothing more. "Your father has been approaching noble families for weeks. Quite desperately, from what I understand. My stepmother appears to have won the bidding war."
"This can't..." The words died in Adelina's throat.
Alexio shrugged—an elegant, dismissive gesture.
"I don't see why you're surprised. Marriage has always been a transaction. The exchange of bodies and bloodlines for wealth and political advantage." His violet eyes held hers without flinching. "You and I are both products of such arrangements. Surely you've understood this for years."
"You are *insufferably* rude."
"I am simply honest." He said it without defensiveness, without heat. A statement of fact, nothing more. "As a man who values efficiency above all else, allow me to be blunt."
He leaned forward slightly, his presence somehow expanding to fill the carriage.
"Prince Roche intends to marry you to Derek Pembroke—my half-brother. The formal introduction was arranged at the Rossi estate. That's where you were heading when I... *intervened*."
"*No.*"
The word tore from Adelina's throat. She surged to her feet—or tried to. The carriage lurched, and she collapsed back onto the velvet seat, all strength draining from her limbs.
"I won't." Her voice had gone thin, almost childlike. "I'm not... I don't want to marry. I *can't*—"
Marriage. The word conjured images she had spent years trying to suppress. Her mother's hollow eyes. Her mother's trembling hands. Her mother locked away in that distant room, wasting away while the rest of the world pretended she didn't exist.
*That* was what marriage meant. Duty. Childbirth. The slow erosion of everything that made a woman *herself*.
If her father had already made his decision—if the contract was already signed—
"I assure you," Alexio's voice cut through her spiraling panic, "Derek Pembroke is an incorrigible fool. Vain, petty, and utterly without redeeming qualities." A pause. "I would make a far superior husband. In every conceivable way."
The absurdity of the statement was enough to pierce her despair.
Adelina looked up, incredulous. "Why are you telling me this? If Madame Pembroke negotiated with my father, then the matter is settled. What could I possibly—"
"Unlike my stepmother," Alexio interrupted smoothly, "I don't conduct important negotiations through intermediaries. Not when the principal party is available."
He uncrossed his arms, his posture shifting into something more businesslike.
"Tell me, Princess. Have you ever signed a document granting your father authority over your marriage arrangements?"
"*No!*" The denial came instantly, vehemently.
"Are you formally betrothed to anyone?"
"Of course not!"
"Then you remain the key party in this transaction." Alexio spread his hands, as though presenting something obvious. "Your father may have accepted an offer on your behalf, but without your consent—without your *signature*—no contract is legally binding. Which is why I came to you directly."
Adelina stared at him.
In the world she knew—the world of royal protocol and noble tradition—women did not negotiate their own marriages. Fathers decided. Brothers decided. Sometimes mothers or grandmothers wielded influence behind closed doors. But the bride herself? She was a commodity to be traded, not a party to the transaction.
And yet...
"You're saying..." She spoke slowly, testing the words. "That I have a choice?"
"I'm saying you've *always* had a choice." Alexio's voice carried an edge of impatience, as though explaining the self-evident. "The sky is above. The earth is below. And a person's future belongs to them alone—until they surrender it."
The statement hit her like cold water.
*A choice. My choice.*
She had never thought of it that way. Had never *been allowed* to think of it that way.
Something strange stirred in her chest. Not quite hope—it was too fragile for that. But something adjacent to it. A crack in the cage she hadn't realized surrounded her.
Alexio seemed to sense the shift. He reached into his coat and withdrew a folded document, extending it toward her with unhurried grace.
"Read this."
---
The paper was thick, expensive—the kind used for legal contracts of significant value. At the top, in elegant script, a single word:
**CONTRACT**
Adelina's eyes moved down the page.
> *First: Alexio Pembroke and Adelina Brielle Estria-Roche shall marry and remain husband and wife for a minimum period of three years.*
> *Second: The aforementioned marriage shall be a formality. Neither party is obligated to fulfill marital duties of an intimate nature.*
Her breath caught.
*No marital duties.*
She read the clause again. Then again. The words didn't change.
> *Third: Adelina Brielle Estria-Roche shall enjoy the full status, privileges, and rights accorded to the Duchess of Pembroke.*
> *Fourth: Alexio Pembroke shall pay the marriage fee requested by Adelina Brielle Estria-Roche's father, in full, upon receipt of her consent.*
> *Fifth: Adelina Brielle Estria-Roche may file for divorce at any time after the mandatory three-year period has concluded.*
Clauses six, seven, eight followed—each one more generous than the last. Financial provisions. Property rights. Freedom of movement. Protection from interference by the Pembroke family.
Every single term favored *her*.
Adelina's hands trembled as she lowered the document.
"You gave me the correct papers?" She looked up at the Duke, suspicion sharp in her voice. "This seems... extraordinarily one-sided."
Alexio's expression didn't waver. If anything, he seemed pleased by her caution.
"My requirements," he said calmly, "are contained in the final clause. If you agree to that condition, I will honor everything preceding it."
"The final clause?"
Her eyes dropped to the bottom of the page.
> *Tenth: Adelina Brielle Estria-Roche agrees to a childless marriage. She shall accept any child designated by Alexio Pembroke as her legally adopted heir.*
The document trembled in her grip.
*Childless.*
*A childless marriage.*
She read the words again. Her vision blurred. She blinked hard, forcing herself to focus.
"You don't want..." Her voice emerged as barely a whisper. "You don't want children? With *me*?"
Everyone wanted children with her. That was the entire *point*. Her bloodline was the most valuable commodity in the kingdom—two royal families converging in a single vessel. Every suitor, every offer, every whispered negotiation had centered on one thing: the heirs she could produce.
And this man—this mad, dangerous, inexplicable man—was offering her freedom from all of it?
Alexio's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Mix your blood with Pembroke blood?" He laughed—a low, sardonic sound. "Princess, your lineage is *far* too valuable for such contamination. It would be a travesty. A crime against both royal houses."
"But—" She struggled to comprehend. "A child of mine would have claims to both the throne of Riochel *and* the Duchy of Estria. That's what everyone *wants*. That's why I'm—"
"Valuable?" Alexio supplied. "Coveted? Traded like livestock at market?"
She flinched.
"Yes," he continued, his tone gentling almost imperceptibly. "That's precisely why. And it's precisely why I have no interest in it."
He leaned forward, violet eyes holding hers with unsettling intensity.
"I don't need royal heirs, Princess. I need a *wife*. Someone to occupy the position of Duchess and prevent my stepmother from maneuvering her son into a marriage that would threaten my position." His gaze didn't waver. "You need an escape from a father who would sell you to the highest bidder. Our interests align."
Adelina's mind raced.
It was insane. The entire proposition was insane. A marriage of convenience with a man she'd met less than an hour ago—a man who had *kidnapped* her to make his offer.
And yet...
*No children. No marital duties. The right to divorce after three years.*
It was everything she had desperately, secretly wished for. A way out that didn't require her to become her mother.
"Why should I trust you?" The question emerged rougher than intended. "You've already proven yourself willing to deceive and manipulate. You sabotaged my carriage. You *abducted* me."
"I prefer the term 'strategic interception,'" Alexio said mildly. "And as for trust—you shouldn't. Not blindly. That's why everything is in writing." He gestured toward the contract. "Every promise I've made is legally binding. If I violate any clause, you'll have grounds for immediate divorce *and* substantial financial compensation."
He sat back, spreading his hands in a gesture of openness.
"I'm not asking you to trust my character, Princess. I'm asking you to trust the contract. Trust that I value my word—and my reputation—too much to break it."
Adelina looked down at the document again.
The paper felt impossibly heavy in her hands. The weight of her entire future, condensed into ten numbered clauses.
"I need time," she said finally. "To think."
Something flickered in Alexio's expression—satisfaction, perhaps, or anticipation.
"Of course." He inclined his head gracefully. "Take all the time you need. I'll have you delivered safely to the Rossi estate, as promised."
He paused, and that predatory smile returned.
"But don't take *too* long, Princess. My stepmother moves quickly. And I would hate for you to find yourself married to my brother before you've had a chance to consider the alternative."
The carriage continued through the storm, rain hammering against the roof like a thousand tiny fists.
And Adelina sat in silence, clutching a contract that promised her something she had never dared to imagine.
*Freedom.*
---