Chapter 5

A DEAL WITH THE ENEMY'S SON

His brows lifted, just slightly, as he regarded her with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. "And why would I do that?" His voice was calm, low, dangerous.

Mia wouldn't let him scare her. When she decided to do something, she did it. "We both have one thing in common." She looked at him, noticing how he seemed to pretend he wasn't interested, looking away a little. But she knew he was listening. That was enough for now. "Shitty fathers. We both know our fathers are only interested in taking what's ours and giving to who they think deserves it." Mia continues, her gaze unwavering. " We've both been betrayed by them ." That seemed to get his attention. His dark eyes looked back at her, sharper now.

"The only difference between us is that you're an illegitimate child, and I'm not." The words hung in the air, a clear jab, reminding him they came from different places, and maybe a little bit of a challenge.

Stefan looked at her, really looked at her. Mia Meyers. The woman everyone knew was beautiful and smart. She had worked so hard to prove she deserved her dad's company. He had seen her last night at the party, it was broadcasted life. The fake smile on her face when her dad said that embarrassing thing. He had seen the anger in her eyes, like a fire that could burn everything.

They both had fathers who cared more about what they wanted than about their kids. But marrying her just for that wasn't enough. Not even close.

"That's your solution? A wedding band as a weapon?" He said ignoring the part where she just referred to him as an illegitimate child.

Mia didn't falter, instead she leaned forward slightly, making sure he couldn't look away. "They think they can dictate our lives. But together, we could build something that no one, not even them, could destroy."

His eyes narrowed, his sharp gaze now fully focused on her. "An alliance, then," he said, almost to himself. "But let's be clear, Miss Meyers. What you're asking is, for me to fight your battles."

She smirked, a flicker of defiance lighting her features. "I'm not asking you to do anything. I'm offering you a partnership. An empire they'll never see coming. We join forces, create our own empire that'll bring down theirs."

Stefan leaned forward, the edge of a smirk playing on his lips, though his voice carried the weight of finality. "One condition" he said, his tone low and deliberate. "If either of us dares to speak of divorce, they lose everything. The company, the assets, the empire, gone. No compromises, no negotiations. We burn it all to the ground."

Mia blinked, the impact of his words hanging heavy in the air. For a moment, Stefan thought she might falter, that her confidence might crack. But she didn't. Instead, she straightened her posture and nodded, her expression resolute.

"Fine," she said, her voice steady. "No divorces. No exits. I'm all in." Her father wants to destroy her life. She wouldn't give him the pleasure, she would destroy her life as she seems fit.

Still, Stefan held her gaze, searching for even the smallest hint of hesitation. There was none. Before he could say anything further, she tilted her chin slightly, as though gearing up for her own demand.

"But I have a condition of my own," she added, her tone firm yet measured. "I want a wedding that'll be remembered for years. Something grand. The kind of event that will have reporters camped outside for days and leave everyone whispering."

His smirk grew wider, a flicker of amusement sparking in his dark eyes. "A grand display of rebellion?"

"Exactly," Mia replied, her determination sparking to life again. "But it'll take weeks to organize the wedding I have in mind. So tomorrow, we register the marriage, make it official. Then we take our time crafting the perfect show." She paused, a defiant edge to her words. "If we're doing this, we're doing it right."

For a moment, Stefan didn't respond. He simply studied her, his silence as sharp as his smirk. "Practical," he finally said. "You get your spectacle, and I get..." He trailed off, letting the ambiguity of his sentence hang in the air. "Fine. Tomorrow, we register. But the rest? That's on you."

Mia's expression softened, just barely. "That's all I need."

She took a step closer, locking eyes with him. "And since we're tying the knot tomorrow," she continued, her voice casual but calculated, "I think it's only right that I stay here tonight."

Stefan raised an eyebrow, intrigued but not entirely surprised. "You're insisting on sleepovers already? Bold."

"Not bold. Logical," Mia countered smoothly. "If we're going to sell this story, we might as well commit to it from the start. Give me a spare room. I'm not asking for your bed."

His lips twitched, as though holding back a laugh. "Good. I don't share."

She ignored his remark, a faint smile creeping onto her face. "I can't wait to imagine the looks on their faces when they read the headlines tomorrow. Our fathers won't know what hit them. And the press? I'll give them exactly what they're hungry for."

Stefan's gaze lingered on her, assessing the fire in her eyes. He wasn't sure if it was the audacity of her plan or the determination in her tone, but for the first time in years, he felt genuinely intrigued.

"Follow me," he said finally, standing from his chair and motioning toward the door. His movements were unhurried but purposeful. "Let's make sure your accommodations meet your standards, Princess."

Mia raised an eyebrow at the nickname but didn't respond. She followed him through the quiet halls, her mind racing with the possibilities ahead. The game was already in motion, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt like she was playing to win.

Stefan, walking just ahead of her, let a small, private smirk tug at the corners of his mouth. She wanted rebellion, power, and spectacle. Fine. She'd get it. But he wasn't blind, Mia Meyers was a wildcard, the kind that could either take a plan to new heights or bring it crashing down. Either way, it was going to be one hell of a show.