A THRONE OF SECRETS

London had never looked more beautiful than it did when it was raining.

Amelia Hart stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of the black Mercedes, watching the city blur beneath streams of water.

Red buses moved through the streets.

Black cabs disappeared around corners.

The golden lights of restaurants reflected across wet pavements.

People hurried beneath umbrellas, unaware that her entire life had just changed.

Seven years.

Seven years since she had left London.

Seven years since she had promised herself she would never come back.

And now she was returning because her father was dead.

Amelia closed her eyes.

She had imagined this moment many times.

Sometimes she imagined herself crying.

Sometimes she imagined feeling nothing.

She hadn't expected the emptiness.

The driver slowed as the car approached the gates of Hart House.

The enormous Victorian mansion stood behind tall black railings in one of London's most expensive neighbourhoods. Its stone walls were dark from the rain, and warm lights glowed from the windows.

Home.

At least, it used to be.

The gates opened.

The car rolled forward.

Amelia looked down at herself.

A black dress.

Diamond earrings.

Her mother's necklace.

Nothing extravagant.

Tonight wasn't about wealth.

It was about saying goodbye.

The car stopped.

A man in a dark suit opened her door.

“Miss Hart.”

Amelia stepped out.

Cold rain touched her skin.

She looked up at the house.

For a moment, she was twenty-two again.

Young.

In love.

Naive.

And standing beside the only man who had ever made her believe forever was possible.

Alexander Blackwood.

She pushed the memory away.

Not tonight.

She climbed the steps.

The doors opened before she could knock.

Inside, everything looked exactly as she remembered.

The marble floor.

The enormous chandelier.

The portraits of generations of Harts staring down from the walls.

But the people had changed.

Business partners stood in small groups, whispering.

Family friends spoke in low voices.

Lawyers carried folders.

And everyone seemed to know something Amelia didn't.

The moment she entered, the room became silent.

She hated that.

Her heels clicked across the marble floor.

Then she saw him.

Alexander.

He stood near the fireplace.

Tall.

Broad-shouldered.

Dressed in a perfectly fitted black suit.

His dark hair was slightly longer than she remembered, and a faint shadow of stubble covered his jaw.

But it was his eyes that stopped her.

The same eyes.

The same impossible intensity.

They found hers immediately.

Neither of them moved.

For seven years, Amelia had imagined what it would feel like to see him again.

She had imagined anger.

She had imagined satisfaction.

She had imagined walking straight past him.

Instead, her heart betrayed her.

It skipped.

Just once.

Alexander's expression changed almost imperceptibly.

“Amelia.”

His voice was deeper now.

She swallowed.

“Alexander.”

The space between them suddenly felt too small.

He took one step toward her.

She took one step back.

His jaw tightened.

“I didn't know you were coming tonight.”

“My father's funeral was this morning.”

“I know.”

“Then you knew.”

“I knew about the funeral.”

“Of course you did.”

She turned away.

A woman approached her.

“Amelia.”

She recognized her father's solicitor, Margaret Ellis.

“I'm glad you've arrived.”

Amelia nodded.

“Thank you.”

Margaret looked uncomfortable.

“There are some matters your father specifically requested be handled after the funeral.”

“Can they wait until tomorrow?”

“No.”

Amelia frowned.

“What is it?”

Margaret glanced toward Alexander.

Amelia followed her gaze.

Alexander was watching them.

“What does he have to do with it?”

Margaret lowered her voice.

“Everything.”

Amelia's stomach tightened.

Before she could ask another question, Margaret handed her a sealed envelope.

“Your father left this for you.”

Amelia stared at it.

Her name was written across the front in her father's handwriting.

Amelia.

She hadn't seen his handwriting in months.

Her fingers trembled slightly.

She broke the seal.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

She read it once.

Then again.

Her face went pale.

Margaret watched carefully.

“What does it say?”

Amelia looked up.

“My father wants me to take control of Hart Group.”

Margaret nodded.

“That was his intention.”

Amelia looked at the paper again.

“But there's a condition.”

The room seemed suddenly colder.

“What condition?” Alexander asked.

Amelia looked at him.

Margaret answered for her.

“To assume full control of Hart Group, Amelia must enter into a formal partnership with Alexander Blackwood.”

Silence.

Amelia laughed.

Not because anything was funny.

Because she couldn't believe it.

“You're joking.”

“No.”

She looked at Alexander.

He didn't look surprised.

“You knew.”

He remained silent.

“You knew about this?”

“Yes.”

Her heart began pounding.

“For how long?”

“Three months.”

Amelia stared at him.

Three months.

He had known her father was dying.

He had known about the inheritance.

He had known that she would eventually have to face him.

And he had said nothing.

“You had no right.”

“I know.”

“You always think you know everything.”

His expression hardened.

“I didn't ask for this either.”

“You could have told me.”

“I tried.”

“When?”

“Every time I thought about calling you.”

She stared at him.

“And what stopped you?”

Alexander looked at her for a long moment.

“Fear.”

The answer caught her off guard.

She had expected arrogance.

Not fear.

“Fear of what?”

He stepped closer.

“Losing you again.”

Amelia's chest tightened.

She looked away.

“Too late.”

Alexander's voice softened.

“Is it?”

Before she could answer, Margaret spoke again.

“There is another condition.”

Amelia closed her eyes.

“Of course there is.”

Margaret opened another folder.

“The partnership must be publicly announced.”

Amelia stared at her.

“And?”

Margaret hesitated.

“You are expected to become engaged.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

Amelia looked at Alexander.

He was already looking at her.

“No.”

Her answer was immediate.

Margaret sighed.

“Amelia—”

“No.”

She turned toward the door.

“I won't marry him.”

Alexander followed.

“Amelia.”

She stopped.

He stood only a few feet away.

“You don't have to marry me.”

She looked at him suspiciously.

“Then what exactly are you suggesting?”

“A contract.”

“A fake engagement.”

“Yes.”

She laughed bitterly.

“That's even worse.”

“It lasts one year.”

“One year?”

“At the end of it, you control your shares. I control mine. The partnership ends.”

“And why would you agree to this?”

Alexander's gaze held hers.

“Because your father asked me to protect you.”

Amelia's expression changed.

“Protect me from what?”

For the first time that evening, Alexander looked genuinely afraid.

“From the people who wanted him dead.”

The room seemed to disappear.

“What did you just say?”

Alexander stepped closer.

“Your father's death wasn't as simple as you think.”

Amelia's heart stopped.

She stared at him.

“You're lying.”

“I wish I was.”

“Then tell me who killed him.”

“I don't know.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“No.”

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a photograph.

He handed it to her.

Amelia looked down.

Her father stood outside a restaurant.

Beside him was Alexander's father.

And standing behind them was a man she had never seen before.

A man wearing a dark coat.

Watching them.

Amelia turned the photograph over.

Three words were written on the back.

HE KNOWS EVERYTHING.

She looked up.

“Who is he?”

Alexander's eyes darkened.

“Sebastian Cross.”

Amelia frowned.

“The investor?”

“Yes.”

“What does he want?”

Alexander's voice dropped.

“Everything your father left behind.”

Amelia looked toward the rain-covered windows.

The city suddenly felt different.

More dangerous.

More alive.

Her father's death wasn't the end of something.

It was the beginning.

She looked back at Alexander.

“And if I refuse?”

He held her gaze.

“Then Sebastian wins.”

“And if I accept?”

Alexander stepped closer.

“Then you and I become the most dangerous couple in London.”

For the first time that night, Amelia almost smiled.

Almost.

Then she looked at the photograph again.

She knew she should walk away.

She knew she should leave Alexander in the past.

But her father's final words echoed in her mind.

And somewhere beyond those gates, someone was already watching.

Amelia folded the photograph and placed it inside her handbag.

“Fine.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow.

“Fine?”

“One year.”

His eyes remained fixed on hers.

“One year.”

She held out her hand.

“A business arrangement.”

He took it.

His fingers closed around hers.

Warm.

Familiar.

Dangerous.

Amelia's heart betrayed her again.

Alexander noticed.

Of course he did.

His mouth curved into the faintest smile.

She immediately pulled her hand away.

“Don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you still love me.”

His smile disappeared.

“I never stopped.”

Amelia's breath caught.

Then she turned and walked away.

Behind her, Alexander remained still.

Outside, the rain continued to fall over London.

And neither of them knew that their agreement would change both their lives forever.