The air smelled of roses and something else—something unplaceable but oddly metallic, sharp, like ozone before a storm.
The garden behind Davos' mansion had been transformed into a quiet wedding space. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in streaks of crimson and violet. But even that beauty couldn't calm the tight knot in Bella's chest.
She stood beside her mother and Luisa, the only two faces she'd wanted to see here—two islands of comfort in a gathering that felt… off.
Across the aisle sat the guests Davos had invited.
Strange people.
Elegant, poised. Dressed not in white or gold but in odd combinations—black silk, iridescent green, deep wine-red robes. Their eyes shimmered with something unnatural. None of them smiled. None of them whispered or laughed. They sat in eerie stillness, watching her like they were witnesses to something far greater than a wedding.
Luisa leaned in, whispering, "Are you sure about this?"
Bella nodded without looking away. "It's just a month. It's a deal."
Her mother, Mrs. Costa, squeezed her hand tightly and whispered a prayer under her breath.
The music began.
---
The Ceremony
Davos stood waiting at the altar. Dressed in a deep charcoal suit with a black shirt underneath—no tie. Classic, dark, cold, yet impossible to ignore. His hair was slicked back and his eyes met hers the moment she took her first step.
Bella walked down the short aisle.
Every step echoed louder in her head than the soft strings playing in the background. She could feel their eyes — the strangers in black. They weren't watching with admiration, no. They were watching like observers of a ritual, a pact, something ancient.
The officiant was a tall woman, silver-haired, her voice calm and clear. She didn't ask the usual questions. There were no "Do you take this man?" No "in sickness and in health."
Only a simple phrase spoken with careful clarity:
> "You are bound by fire
Bella felt a tremor in the air, like a vibration under her skin, just for a second.
> "You may exchange tokens."
Davos slid a silver ring onto Bella's finger. She noticed it felt cold at first, then oddly warm — as if adjusting to her.
She hesitated but followed suit, slipping the ring onto his hand.
And that was it.
No kiss.
No applause.
Only that low, polite hum of approval from Davos' side. His people… if they were truly people at all.
---
Later That Day After the Wedding — The Mansion, 9:02 p.m.
Bella stood before the tall double doors of the room Davos claimed would now be hers.
Not home. Not ours. Hers.
Everything about the suite was decadent—velvet drapes pooling like royal robes across the floor, soft cream-colored walls, golden candle sconces, and a vanity carved from dark mahogany that looked too sacred to touch. It was beautiful, yes... but it wasn't hers. Not truly.
She hadn't unpacked. She couldn't. Her fingers refused to settle long enough to smooth a dress or fold a blouse. Her eyes kept darting to the corners of the room.
Because something wasn't right. even though she was alone.
A sharp knock pulled her from her spiraling thoughts. Mama Kate stepped in, all warmth and lavender perfume.
"Dinner is ready, dear," she said gently. "Mr. Davos is waiting for you in the private dining room."
Bella nodded quickly, brushing trembling hands over the front of her blouse, then smoothing her hair. Her reflection in the gilded mirror looked pale, unsure—like a bride trying to recognize herself.
She followed Mama Kate out, heart thudding softly behind her ribs.
---
Private Dining Room – 9:15 p.m.
The chandelier above cast a warm, honeyed glow across the long marble table, making it look like something from a movie set. Rich mahogany panels lined the walls. A low fire crackled in the hearth, filling the room with a golden hush.
At the far end of the table, Davos sat with his back straight, a glass of dark wine resting between his fingers. He hadn't touched his meal yet. He was waiting.
Bella paused at the doorway, uncertain. Her fingers curled at her sides.
"Come," he said, not looking up—but the depth in his voice curled around her like smoke.
She stepped forward slowly. Her heels echoed softly across the polished floor. When she reached him, Davos finally lifted his gaze.
His eyes were cooler tonight, unreadable. But his lips tilted in something that was almost a smile. "I didn't want to start without you."
Bella swallowed. "Thank you."
He gestured to the chair beside him—not across from him, beside him. She hesitated for a breath, then sat. Their knees nearly touched.
"You look…" His eyes skimmed over her, lingering too long. "Beautiful."
Her heart kicked, and she looked away, suddenly grateful for the flickering candlelight hiding the flush in her cheeks. "Thank you," she whispered again.
Dinner was served in silence at first—roasted sea bass, garlic potatoes, some kind of sweet, spiced wine. Bella tried to focus on the food, but she could feel Davos watching her, just like in the suite.
His gaze wasn't cold—it was burning and careful all at once, like a man watching something fragile and dangerous in the same breath.
"Why did you agree to this?" he asked finally, his voice soft but loaded.
Bella looked up, startled. "To pay for the car… and… because I didn't have another choice."
"You always have a choice." His gaze didn't waver. "Even when you think you don't."
"Do I, though?" she said, before she could stop herself.
A pause stretched between them.
Then, unexpectedly, he smiled.
And this time, it was real. Gentle. Warm. It startled her more than any coldness ever could. "You're braver than I thought."
"I'm not brave," she said, shaking her head.
Davos leaned in a little closer, his voice low and steady. "Then you're better at pretending than anyone I've ever met."
The room fell into quiet again—thick, pulsing quiet. But Bella didn't feel fear now.
She felt something else.
Heat.
Pull.
Danger wrapped in silk.
And when their fingers brushed by accident near the edge of the table, neither of them moved away.
The clinking of silverware against porcelain echoed gently in the room. Bella began to relax, just a little. The silence between them wasn't awkward anymore. It was… oddly peaceful.
She looked up occasionally, stealing glances at Davos. For a man who could look so sharp, intimidating, and powerful—he looked different tonight. Not softer, but quieter. His shoulders weren't so tense. His eyes weren't scanning for threat.
He was present. With her.
"So…" she said, swirling the last of her wine in her glass, "do you always eat this fancy?"
He raised a brow, setting down his fork. "I like good food. I don't like noisy restaurants."
Bella smiled. "I guess I'm used to noisy bukas and paper plates."
"Do you miss it?"
She blinked. No one had ever asked her that. "Yes," she said honestly. "The noise, the random shouting, the smells. It's messy… but it's real."
Davos studied her a second longer, then nodded slowly, as if he understood something deeper than what she said. "You like real things."
"I don't like pretending," she said. Then laughed a little. "Which is ironic since I'm pretending to be your wife."
At that, Davos smiled—not his usual smirk or unreadable curve, but something wide, genuine… boyish.
And Bella felt it. Right there, in her chest. That little pinch. That ridiculous flutter.
He leaned back slightly, eyes still on her. "You're the first person to sit at this table and laugh like that."
She blinked. "Like what?"
"Like you're not trying to impress me. Like you're just… being yourself."
Bella looked down, heat crawling to her cheeks again. "I didn't know I was allowed to impress you."
"You're not trying. That's why you're doing it."
The warmth between them settled into something calm, like the way tea cools in a favorite mug. Not loud. Not fast. But present.
Davos reached for the wine and poured her another glass without asking. Bella accepted it with a nod, her fingers grazing his. The contact sent a quiet hum through her skin.
"Thank you," she murmured.
He didn't answer—just looked at her like he was memorizing the way she held the glass.
Bella sat back in her chair, the warmth from the wine making her limbs feel a little looser. Not drunk—just... at ease. The tension that had gripped her all day was beginning to unravel.
Across from her, Davos had gone quiet again, sipping slowly from his glass, his gaze settled on her in a way that made it hard to look away for too long.
"This was nice," Bella said, her voice soft. "I didn't expect tonight to feel... this normal."
He looked up from his glass. "Normal isn't a word people usually associate with me."
"Well," she gave a small laugh, "I wasn't exactly expecting candlelight, proper cutlery, and perfectly grilled fish either."
Davos allowed the corner of his lips to lift, almost into a smile. "What were you expecting?"
She tilted her head. "I don't know. Maybe you giving me a long list of rules I need to follow, or assigning me a bodyguard just to make sure I don't touch anything expensive."
"That's what you think of me?" he said, with mock offense.
Bella held her hands up. "You're the one who threatened me with a contract marriage."
"I never threatened. I offered."
"You made it sound like an ultimatum."
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping a little. "And yet… you're here."
Bella's smile faded slightly, but not in a bad way. The air between them shifted again, slowing, tightening. Her heart skipped.
"Yes. I'm here," she said quietly.
Bella's last words still lingered between them.
She wasn't sure why she'd said it like that—soft, uncertain—but it came from somewhere honest. She didn't expect him to respond. In fact, she expected silence.
Davos leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable, but his eyes stayed on her a moment longer than necessary.
Then, setting down his glass with quiet finality, he said, "You should get some rest."
Bella blinked. "Is dinner over already?"
"No," he replied, his voice as steady as ever. "But we won't have the luxury of quiet evenings much longer."
She frowned slightly, unsure what he meant.
He stood, adjusting the cuff of his shirt, his movements precise and almost distant. "There's an event tomorrow night. One of my associates is hosting a party."
Bella sat straighter. "You want me to come?"
Davos didn't answer immediately. He crossed to the sideboard, poured himself a fresh glass of water, and turned back to her. When he finally spoke, it was simple, firm:
"You're my wife now. You'll attend."
No warmth. No request. Just a quiet assertion of fact.
Bella swallowed. There was something strangely intimate in the way he said wife, even if his tone gave nothing away.
"I'll be ready," she said after a beat.
His eyes met hers again. Long. Still. As if he were measuring the truth of her answer.
His eyes held hers—quiet, unreadable—but intense. Like he was searching for something she hadn't said out loud.
Her heart was pounding. From the outside, it might have seemed like nothing—just a man looking at his wife. But Davos wasn't just anyone. And this wasn't just a marriage.
Up close, Bella could finally take in the angles of his face—the sharp jawline, the steady gaze, the calm he carried like armor. There was something disarming about him, something her mind wanted to argue with, but her heart… didn't.
"What time is the party?" she asked, needing to say something.
Davos turned slightly, eyes still on her.
"You'll receive a package tomorrow morning," he said. "Everything you need will be inside."
There was no further explanation. No discussion of schedules or expectations. Just a simple fact—and a quiet authority behind it.
Then, softer this time:
"Today's been a long day. You should rest."
Bella offered a small smile, unsure how to react. He wasn't exactly kind, but he wasn't cold either. Not tonight. It was something in between—unspoken but undeniably present.
She stood, brushing her hands on the sides of her dress, ready to leave the room.
"I'll walk you."
She froze, surprised.
He didn't wait for a response. He simply moved closer, reaching for her hand without ceremony—fingers closing around hers, firm, warm.
The contact jolted something inside her. A rush. A spark. She hadn't expected that.
Davos's hand was nothing like she imagined—soft, strong, controlled. His thumb moved slightly against hers, like he wasn't even aware of the effect it had on her. And maybe he wasn't.
Or maybe… he was.
They walked in silence, hand in hand, through the quiet halls. Bella tried not to read into it, but her thoughts were already spiraling. She hadn't felt this—whatever this was—in a long time. Cared for. Safe. Seen.
It wasn't love. Of course not.
But it wasn't nothing either.
They stopped outside her room. Davos stepped inside with her, his hand finally slipping away from hers like it had never been there at all.
He nodded toward a small silver button by the bedside.
"That's a direct link to my room," he said calmly. "Press it if you need anything."
Bella stared at the button. Something about that simple gesture felt more intimate than anything he'd said all evening.
She turned back to him.
Her voice was quieter now.
"Thank you, Davos."
She wasn't sure what she was thanking him for. The dinner? The walk? The strange, confusing gentleness he showed without ever breaking his cold exterior?
He didn't answer. He just gave a single, slow nod.
And then turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind him.
Bella stood there, hand still hovering over the call button.
She told herself not to get too comfortable. Not to read into anything. Not to let him in.
He once whispered in her ear not to fall in love.
Maybe this was all part of the game. Maybe he was just keeping up appearances.
But still…
Her hand tingled where he'd touched her.
And for the first time in a long while, she didn't feel so alone.