Chapter 3
Victoria
The London afternoon sun was gentler than New York's harsh glare, streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my Kensington apartment and painting everything in golden hues.
I had just dragged the last suitcase into the bedroom when I heard the sound of wheels rolling down the hallway.
'Someone moving in?'
I walked to the door and peered through the peephole. A man stood across the hall, fumbling with his keys.
This was a face so striking it was impossible to look away—a guy with features that belonged on magazine covers.
But then—
My gaze dropped to his feet.
All he had with him was a single suitcase. Pathetically sparse for someone moving into this neighborhood.
Kensington was prime real estate. The kind of place where monthly rent started at five thousand pounds and only went up from there. Nobody moves into a place like this with just one suitcase—not unless they're a temporary resident with someone else footing the bill.
'Marcus, you work fast.'
I smirked to myself.
Less than twenty-four hours in London, and his pawn had already appeared. And such an obvious setup too—living right across from me, exactly my type, timing perfect to the point of suspicion.
I waited about ten minutes, then deliberately made some noise. Sure enough, there was a knock at my door.
"Hi." I opened the door with my most innocent smile.
"Hey, I'm Alexander, just moved in across the hall." His voice was pleasant, with a slight American accent. "We're neighbors now, mind if we exchange numbers?"
His eye contact was direct when he spoke, without that calculated charm most guys tried. There was something genuinely straightforward about him.
Interesting.
If Marcus had sent him, most people would be trying much harder to impress me. But this Alexander seemed... sincere?
"Of course." I pulled out my phone, then deliberately paused. "Marcus didn't give you my contact info?"
Alexander hesitated for a moment, then nodded honestly. "He did, but I figured you should want to add me before I could add you."
I raised an eyebrow.
That was unexpected. Most people Marcus hired would either deny knowing him or lie about knowing who I was. But Alexander chose honesty.
"I'd be happy to." I typed in my number, then looked at him. "Go get settled in your room first. Send me your resume that you gave Marcus before dinner."
Alexander's expression grew complicated, but he nodded. "Alright."
I closed the door and leaned against it, unable to suppress a smile.
This game just got more interesting than I expected.
At six PM, my phone buzzed with a message.
Alexander had sent a detailed resume. Twenty-seven, art school graduate, freelance artist in New York, sister who needed expensive surgery.
I skimmed it quickly, then texted back: [I'll need to verify the goods.]
His response came fast: [I can provide excellent service.]
I stared at that reply for several seconds, then burst out laughing.
Service?
Pretty blunt choice of words. Seemed like Alexander was very clear about his role and mission here.
But what surprised me was how honest his resume was. No embellishments, no deliberate omissions. Even the part about his family's financial struggles was written with complete candor.
Marcus raised me for so many years—he really knows me. I do have a thing for broke guys.
Not the fake-poor-for-sympathy type, but genuinely talented people going through tough times. Marcus knew I had zero resistance to that combination.
I read the resume three times, then began analyzing Marcus's selection criteria.
Appearance: Matching my long-standing dating preferences.
Age: Twenty-seven, five years older than me—just mature enough without a generation gap.
Background: Artist with talent but financial troubles, perfectly positioned to trigger my protective instincts.
Personality: Based on our interaction, honest and straightforward, wouldn't make me feel like he was being fake.
Marcus Rothwell, you cunning old fox.
He had my preferences mapped down to the last detail, then custom-built the perfect "prey" for me.
But he probably didn't expect that I'd already anticipated this move.
Since he wanted to play this game, I'd give him the performance of a lifetime.
At eight PM, I did my makeup carefully, then video-called Marcus.
He picked up quickly, but I could see the dark circles under his eyes. Clearly hadn't been sleeping well.
"Victoria." His voice was as controlled as ever. "How are you settling in London?"
"Fantastic." I leaned closer to the camera, making sure he could see my expression clearly. "Actually, I have some good news to tell you."
Marcus's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "What good news?"
"This incredibly hot guy moved in across from me—absolutely gorgeous, exactly my type!" My voice bubbled with obvious excitement. "Marcus, I think I'm falling for him already. You might be meeting your son-in-law soon!"
Marcus's face changed instantly.
He struggled to maintain composure, but I could see his grip tighten slightly on his coffee mug.
"Is that so?" His voice sounded calm, but I could hear the forced restraint underneath. "How long have you known him?"
"Just met today, but you know how it is sometimes—that instant connection." I sighed dramatically, putting on my best lovestruck expression. "His name's Alexander, he's an artist. Oh Marcus, you should see his eyes—absolutely mesmerizing."
Marcus's expression was getting darker by the second.
"Victoria, you just arrived in London. You don't know the people there yet." His voice turned serious. "Making friends is fine, but don't trust anyone too easily."
"What do you mean?" I feigned confusion. "Are you saying he might be dangerous?"
"I didn't say that." Marcus rubbed his temples. "I'm just reminding you to be careful."
"Don't worry, I'll be safe." I paused deliberately, then added, "But I really do like him. Marcus, I think this might be the real thing."
I could see Marcus's jaw clench.
"Dating is fine, just stay safe." He said this and immediately hung up.
I stared at the black screen and started laughing uncontrollably.
'Marcus Rothwell, you absolute idiot. You think you're pulling all the strings, but actually, you've walked straight into my trap. The more you care, the more jealous you get, the more you prove how important I am to you.'
And this Alexander...
