The Billionaire's Runaway Bride

The city skyline glowed in the golden light of the setting sun, with each tall building standing as a symbol of riches and ambition.

One stuck out among these enormous glass and steel structures: the penthouse at the top of the tallest skyscraper, a representation of great wealth and power. Inside this penthouse sat a guy most people knew but few truly understood: Alexander Russo.

Alexander was a name that was spoken with jealousy, whispered in wonder and in some circles, feared. He was the picture of gentleman, the ladies man, the representation of high society. His rise to popularity had started from a very young age and it skyrocketed in his thirties that sealed his position at the top making others to struggle to keep up with his rapid rise to success. Russo Enterprises, his empire, comprised of all forms of real estate, both local and international.

Alexander was involved in every transaction and market he attempted to take over and he was very successful at it. The thing that made Alexander Russo stand out, though, was not just his wealth; rather, it was he himself, everything about him, he had an irresistible aura. Alexander Russo, a tall glass of chocolate, standing at six foot three with his well chiseled face, strong jawline, his strong arms and broad chest that were undeniably difficult not to notice all thanks to his years of dedicated fitness training. His dark hair was always thoroughly styled, a sharp contrast to his piercing grey eyes, which seemed to see right through people and instantly notice their intentions, fears, and desires.

Alexander was seen by many as the perfect description of the alpha male; dominant and confident. He always wore perfectly made suits that were expensive, subtle, yet a powerful element of his identity. Still, his attractiveness was what drew most in. Alexander could make anyone feel like the most important person in the world or make you feel like a lost puppy with his gaze that was capable of both flattering and intimidating at the same time. When he spoke to you, it seemed as though there were no other individuals in the entire room. He had a way of listening closely, staring into your eyes while nodding thoughtfully, as though the words you spoke were the keys to the secrets of the universe. Beneath that attractiveness, though, was something more mysterious, something that both lured and drove people away.

There were many aspects to Alexander, each one more complex than the other. When it came to closing agreements, he had a reputation for being a man as cold as the winter wind and for being merciless in business. Alexander Russo was admired by his colleagues, feared by rivals, and even his closest friends and family understood that, in the end, Alexander Russo only cared about himself.

Nevertheless, despite his status, some people were drawn to the challenge he posed. Like moths to a flame, women were drawn to him, each thinking they were the one who could break the strong walls built around his heart. He was frequently mentioned in news columns, his name connected to some of the world's most attractive and accomplished women.

However, none of the ladies who were competing for his attention seemed to be able to hold it for very long. He was a man of many encounters but little to no commitments, his situationships, cause you could barely call it a relationship were short and always moved according to his rules. Every time Alexander was spotted with a new person, the city's social elite were always excited with gossip. Who was it that would win his heart in the end? It was an endless topic of discussion. Would it be the daughters of successful business men like himself, or the supermodel with legs that went on for days? These are the questions nobody could provide answers to, not even Alexander himself.

Alexander's charm was enhanced by how unpredictable and irresistible he was. His social life was a well-planned event. Alexander often went to the most private parties, where the most elite of the elite checked the guest lists and the champagne flowed like water. He was a man who would move across any room without fear, like a predator. Every action was planned, every word that came out of his mouth was deliberate. Talking with him was like playing a strategic game of chess, where both sides were trying to outsmart each other, but he always seemed to be one or two steps ahead.

However, the quality that most captivated people about Alexander Russo was his sense of detachment. He was everywhere and at the same time distant from the world. It appeared as though he was alone in a world that no one else could access. He may be seen, heard from, and even laughed with by others, but they never really got to know him. No matter how much they tried to know more about him, they couldn't penetrate him. Alexander was even more mysterious in private. The sleek, contemporary, flawlessly built apartment he called home had a minimalist aesthetic and clean lines, reflecting the man himself.

Everything had its place and nothing was out of place, it was a place of control and order. In addition, it served as a stronghold of seclusion, a haven for him from the outside world, from prying eyes to the never-ending demands of his public identity. But even with all the luxury around him, there was something almost cold about his where he lives, as though it lacked the coziness that defined a home. Expensive artwork covered the walls, but it was all emotionless and abstract, with no genuine warmth about it.

Although the furniture was luxurious, its purpose overshadowed its comfort when it was chosen. Everything in the place had a function, yet nothing seemed cozy or conducive to rest. It was simply a reflection of a seemingly empty man with everything you could ever think of. Ambitious and determined to stay at the top, Alexander Russo had worked hard to get where he was. In the process of pursuing achievement, he had given up on friendships, relationships, and even his own happiness. Now that he had it, he guarded it passionately because he knew there would always be those in his world who would try to take it from him.

Despite his wealth, influence, and charisma, there was something important missing, a genuine understanding of himself by someone who looked past his wealth and influence. He'd been protecting himself for so long that he'd forgotten what it felt like to open up to someone, to be vulnerable, to love.

However, there was a part of him that secretly craved for something greater, something meaningful. He hid this urge under layers of self-discipline and self-control, and he rarely ever acknowledged it to himself. It was there, just below the surface, waiting to be ignited by the proper circumstance or person. Standing at the floor to ceiling windows of his penthouse, Alexander Russo gazed out over the world he had conquered as the sun fell over the city, creating long shadows across the skyline. As was his usual behavior, he was by himself with his thoughts. But he couldn't quite escape the restlessness he was experiencing tonight. It seems as though a moment was approaching that would completely alter everything. His thoughts were cut short by a soft knock on the door.

"Who's there?" He said turning around

"I brought the lemon water you requested earlier." The voice from behind the door responded.

"Come in" He said as he made his way to his desk.