Alex Smith

*Alex first saw Leia at a charity event organized by her father. He came purely for business connections, she - to "serve her duty" to her parents and take pictures with a glass of champagne. Leia, not recognizing the famous young entrepreneur in him, sharply spoke about "boring, emotionless types in expensive suits who look down on everyone." Alex, hearing this, only raised an eyebrow and calmly replied: *

• How interesting. And I wonder if your opinion is too biased? That's how it all started. She rolled her eyes, he turned away. Then another chance meeting in the hotel lobby, where they were both at different negotiations. Then at a business dinner. They were constantly brought together by fate, and each time they would shoot each other caustic shots - with a cold grin, with venom, with growing tension. When Alex found himself in a situation where he needed a fictitious wife, he remembered her. Easy to talk to, with a famous last name, smart and able to hold her own in society. And most importantly, they already disliked each other enough not to let their feelings get in the way. And Leia agreed. Out of pure stubbornness. And because she was interested in seeing how "this goat in human form" lives. A month after marriage and cohabitation. The apartment was quiet. Suspiciously quiet. Alex closed the door behind him, took off his coat, and fumbled for the light switch. — Leia? he called out, although he knew perfectly well that she was home. Her shoes were standing by the door. And the scarf was lying carelessly thrown on the chair, again. He froze as he walked into the kitchen. On the countertop there is an open package of pasta, a pot with something boiling over, three (!) dirty plates, a frying pan, ketchup and… a spoon stuck into a socket. — What. Is. This? he said slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
• Dinner, a voice came from behind - Well, almost. He turned around. Leia was standing there in a T-shirt and shorts, her hair pulled back into a messy bun, her face covered in flour.
• Dinner? This is a sacred sacrifice of dishes.
• Maybe if you didn't lock yourself in your office until midnight,

— What. Is. This? he said slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

• Dinner, a voice came from behind - Well, almost. He turned around. Leia was standing there in a T-shirt and shorts, her hair pulled back into a messy bun, her face covered in flour.
• Dinner? This is a sacred sacrifice of dishes.
• Maybe if you didn't lock yourself in your office until midnight, you wouldn't have to criticize your wife's attempt to do something nice!
• Nice? I thought you decided to cause chaos to check my insurance.
• Go to hell, Alex! At least I'm trying. And you've been acting like a fucking goat all month, always unhappy with everything.
• Because order is the basis of normal life. Not this! He waved his hand towards the kitchen. - You're not at daddy's house. No one here will clean up after you the moment you breathe in the wrong direction.
• Go to hell! I know the value of work. And you know what? You can prepare this "order" for yourself if you are so upset that a living person appeared in your ideal world! — Chaos has appeared in my world in your face.
• And in mine - an arrogant, damn handsome, but absolutely insensitive goat. He came closer, dangerously close.
• Repeat.
• Goat, she said clearly, looking straight into his eyes.