Page 19 of His Demands

As we approach the courthouse, Fyodor nudges me.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks for what must be the hundredth time. His voice is laced with concern and a touch of disbelief. "Marrying your assistant in a business transaction to get an heir is a bit extreme, don't you think?"

I glance at him, my expression unreadable. "It's the most efficient solution," I reply, my tone firm. The decision hasn't come easily, but I've weighed the options, and this makes the most sense—for me, for my company, and for the legacy I intend to leave.

Fyodor shakes his head, his expression one of exasperation mixed with amusement. "You and your efficiency. There are other ways, you know. You could date, find a girlfriend, do it the normal way."

The idea of dating, of going through the motions of a romantic relationship, seems unnecessarily complicated and time-consuming. I've never been one for the social intricacies of dating, and with the current complications in my life, it's even less appealing.

"Finding a girlfriend who isn't interested in me for my money has proved to be impossible," I tell him, my voice tinged with a hint of cynicism. "Every woman I've met so far has been a gold digger."

The reality of my situation is stark, and perhaps a bit jaded. My wealth and status attract a certain type of attention from women—they are more interested in the material benefits than in me as a person. It's a truth I've come to accept, one that's shaped my approach to personal relationships.

"But Julie isn't like that," I continue, the conviction in my voice unwavering. "The prenup is in place to protect us both, and in this arrangement, we both get what we want. It's straightforward and uncomplicated."

Fyodor chuckles, a light-hearted sound that seems out of place considering the seriousness of our conversation. "You really do have a talent for turning everything into a business transaction, bro," he teases.

"This is the best way," I state again, stopping in front of the courthouse steps. "Julie understands the arrangement. It's mutually beneficial."

Fyodor sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I just hope you're not making a mistake. Marriage is more than just a contract and a child, or it should be. There are emotions involved, feelings, like love."

I pause, considering the word. It’s not often I allow myself to contemplate such intangibles. “Love is a luxury I cannot afford right now. This is about the company, about securing a future. Julie understands the stakes, the practicality of it all.”

“I get the practical side, Ivan, but marriage is also about companionship, about finding someone who, well, someone who complements you, not just fulfills a role.”

His words strike a chord, unearthing a sliver of doubt I've been careful to bury. “Julie is competent, intelligent. She’s more than capable of fulfilling this role. And in return, she gets to achieve her dreams as well. It’s a fair exchange.”

“Just don’t shortchange yourself in this deal, Ivan,” Fyodor advises, his tone softening. “You deserve more than just a business partner for a wife. You deserve happiness, too.”

I glance at him, a brief flicker of vulnerability crossing my otherwise composed exterior. “Happiness is a fleeting thing, Fyodor. What I need is stability, for me and for Stepanov Holdings. That’s my priority.”

My brother nods, accepting my decision but not entirely convinced. “Just remember, life is unpredictable. Sometimes, what starts as a transaction can become something more, something unexpected. Be open to that possibility.”

We enter the courthouse, our steps echoing in the quiet hallway. The weight of the decision I've made settles over me. This marriage, this arrangement with Julie, it's an unexpected new chapter in my life, one that I'm entering with my eyes wide open.

I'm about to pause and look around when my gaze lands on her. She's waiting inside, and the sight of her instantly shifts my focus. All thoughts of business arrangements and negotiations fade away, and it's just her, the woman who could soon be my wife.

As we approach Julie, the sight of her takes my breath away. She stands there in a simple white dress that accentuates her curves with an elegant subtlety. The simplicity of her attire only enhances her natural beauty, making her stand out even more in the stark environment of the courthouse.

Fyodor, never one to hold back his thoughts, leans in and whispers, "She's stunning."

I don't respond to his comment. Words seem inadequate at the moment. My eyes are fixed on Julie, and I’m taking in every detail, from the way her dress cascades toward the floor to the confident, yet slightly nervous tilt of her head. It's a moment of realization for me, a dawning understanding that this arrangement, this marriage, is about more than just a contract and a mutual benefit.

Julie, in her understated elegance, represents something I hadn't fully acknowledged until now. She's not just a means to an heir or a partner in a practical agreement. She's a woman of grace and beauty, someone who's managed to captivate me in ways I hadn't anticipated.

And she’s not alone. A middle-aged woman dressed in flowing, bohemian-chic clothes is with her. As they draw near, I can see the resemblance. The other woman is likely family.

I pause for a moment, allowing myself to truly take her in. "It's good to see you, Julie," I say, my voice softer than usual. "You look lovely."

She meets my gaze, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Thank you, Ivan. You look quite distinguished yourself," she replies, her voice steady but with an undercurrent that suggests a depth of feeling she's keeping carefully in check.

There's a momentary silence as we stand there, the air between us charged with an unspoken intensity and a hint of uncertainty.

Fyodor is the first to initiate introductions. He steps forward, extending his hand toward Julie’s companion with a congenial smile. "Hi. I'm Fyodor, Ivan's brother," he greets warmly. "Pleasure to meet you."

The woman, whose vibrant aura contrasts with the formal setting, returns the handshake. "I'm Barbara, Julie's aunt," she responds, her tone friendly yet filled with curiosity. "But everyone just calls me Barb. Nice to meet you too.”

Barb then turns toward me, extending her hand confidently. "You must be Ivan," she says, her eyes holding a glint of interest.

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