THE TYRANT'S CONTRACT BRIDE

CH. 19

The jarring ringtone sliced through the hazy afterglow, shattering the tranquil silence that had enveloped the couple tangled on the large plush bed.

Alex stirred, furrowing his brow as he reached blindly for the offending device. A seductive feminine form shifted beside him, the sheets wrapping around her alluring curves as she blinked owlishly in the dim light filtering through the heavy drapes.

"Speak!" Alex answered gruffly, his voice still roughened by exertion and the dregs of slumber. He stiffened almost imperceptibly when the voice on the other end relayed its message.

"Very well. I'll be right down."

Snapping the phone shut, he turned to find the woman watching him with undisguised curiosity. Her tousled chestnut locks framed her face in an enticing disarray, and the smudged remains of her deep crimson lipstick only enhanced the wicked allure dancing in her kohl-rimmed eyes.

"That was Paul. My father has arrived at the manor." he supplied without any preamble.

A muscle ticked in his chiseled jaw as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, already reaching for the clothes strewn carelessly across the plush marble floor.

The female sat up. She clutched the sheet to her bosom and she regarded him with a practiced blend of nonchalance and intrigue. "Well, we shouldn't keep Daddy waiting. He'll want to hear all about our... achievements." she drawled, her full lips curving into an impish smile.

A low chuckle rumbled from Alex's throat. His gaze raked over the tempting expanse of flesh left tantalizingly bare. "Down, girl. This summons was unscheduled. We'd best not make assumptions." he admonished without heat.

Pushing to his feet, he cinched his navy robe and moved toward the door. "I'll handle this. Freshen up and make yourself presentable should I require your... particular expertise."

With a parting smirk, he slipped from the room, the faint aroma of her exquisite perfume and the musk of their intimate section still clinging to his skin.

Alex strode down the curved staircase, his expression an impenetrable mask as he approached the study where his father waited.

Though outwardly composed, his mind raced with potential scenarios that could provoke such an unannounced visit. Had their machinations against the Boltings been discovered? The thought settled like a leaden weight in his gut.

He squared his shoulders before pushing open the oak doors and entered the barely illuminated room. "Father."

Vaughn Montgomery rose from the wingback chair, his iron-grey hair and patrician features lending him an air of aristocratic distinction. "Alexander," he greeted with a curt nod. "I trust I didn't... interrupt anything too involved?"

A knowing glint sharpened the older man’s gaze, and Alex felt his neck prickle with instinctive defiance.

"Merely dealing with some... routine matters," Alex replied evenly. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence here?"

Vaughn's mouth thinned to a flat line. He moved toward the crystal decanter. "I've received some rather..." He paused to pour two generous glasses of amber liquid. "Unexpected news that requires our immediate attention."

Alex's brow arched inquisitively while accepting the tumbler handed to him. "I'm listening."

"President Bolting is dead – assassinated last night." His father's next words dropped like a steel ball, reverberating through the air with grim finality.

Alex stilled, his thoughts shattering like a dropped mirror as these words began to ripple outward. Though initially taken aback, he soon recovered his composure.

"How? What happened?" he rasped once his voice returned.

Vaughn's expression was as unreadable as chiseled granite. "The details are still unsure, but it appears to be the work of a well-coordinated attack. Professionally executed."

Alex's grip tightened fractionally on his glass. "And our involvement?"

"Clear at this juncture," his father said after a contemplative sip. "For now, we'd do well to solidify our stance and brace for any... fallout. His death will be announced any moment now."

The two men locked stares, the weight of the moment hanging tensely between them...

Alex felt the air leave his lungs in a harsh exhale. President Bolting was dead - assassinated by unknown forces.

His thoughts raced with impacts and scenarios that spun wildly. "This wasn't part of our plan," he finally bit out with narrowed eyes. "You assured me no one would get hurt beyond ruining that sanctimonious prig's reputation."

Vaughn's expression remained infuriatingly impassive. "And I meant it. Whatever happened last night, we had no direct hand in it." He swirled the liquor contemplatively. "That said, his passing does present...opportunities we'd be foolish not to explore."

Alex scowled, tamping down a swell of unease. Serena's father was one thing - a necessary casualty in their longer game. But outright assassination? By whom and for what purpose?

"We need to get ahead of this," he stated flatly. "We need to find out who was truly behind it before we're caught in the fallout."

His father's mouth curved in a thin, calculating smile. "I'm already on it. My people are vectoring in on all potential angles as we speak." Vaughn clinked his glass against Alex's in a sardonic toast. "After all, we can't let such an opportune tragedy go to waste, now can we?"

Vaughn’s words lingered in the air, loaded with implications Alex couldn't yet grasp. But he knew his father - Vaughn Montgomery never left anything to chance.

Alex could not get rid of the thought that they had now irrevocably launched on a path that neither of them could see through as the first nagging fingers of doom took hold.

“Humm.” Alex nodded slowly, a thoughtful scowl on his face. He had been unprepared for President Bolting's death and was now left with more questions than answers. Even with all the possible benefits, he couldn't shake a persistent feeling of uneasiness this news stirred within him.

"You're certain our hands are clean in this?" he pressed, locking eyes with his father. "I'd hate for there to be any loose ends that could unravel everything we've worked towards."

Vaughn's expression remained inscrutable as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "Have I ever left such critical matters to chance? Our mission was targeted and surgical - to decimate Serena's reputation and leave her father powerless. Anything beyond that would have been sloppy and unnecessarily risky."

Alex exhaled slowly, and his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. His father's meticulous planning had always been a source of reassurance, even when he questioned the moral boundaries they routinely crossed.

"Then we'd best capitalize on this unexpected turn of events," he stated, his voice regaining its usual confident timbre. "The presidency is effectively leaderless which we can exploit to our advantage."

Vaughn's lips curved in a thin, predatory smile. "Exactly! With Bolting out of the way, those who curry favor with us now will be well-positioned when the new regime takes shape." He lifted his glass in a mocking salute. "Long live the new order."

A sharp rap at the door interrupted their scheming.

Alex frowned as his father's assistant entered, her expression taut with urgency.

"Sir, you need to see this," she stated, holding up a tablet with a news broadcast already queued up. "It's about the President's death."

Father and son exchanged a weary glance before focusing on the screen. Alex felt the first icy threads of nerves coil in his gut as the somber details started to come to light.

It seemed their moment of triumph was just the beginning of something far more sinister...and potentially devastating.