The pen hadn't even cooled from my grip when Alexander closed the folder and slid it aside with the same ease a man might use to discard yesterday's newspaper. To him, my name—my entire existence—was just another document, filed away under "acquired assets."
"Stand up," he said.
I blinked at him from across the massive desk. "Excuse me?"
"We're leaving." His tone made it sound like the only logical next step after signing a contract. His chair scraped softly against the marble floor as he rose, precise and towering, every movement sharpened to efficiency.
Before I could ask where, he was already walking toward the door. His assistant—a man with sharp eyes and silence stitched into his suit—fell into step behind him. I stumbled after them, still reeling from the fact that I had just signed my name into a life I didn't fully understand.
The glass doors of Veyron Enterprises whooshed open, and suddenly we were moving through a sea of employees who immediately straightened in his presence. Heads bowed. Whispers rippled. Eyes darted toward me, curiosity bright and cutting. I clutched my bag like a lifeline and trailed after him through the building, past employees who straightened in their chairs at the sight of him. Their eyes flicked toward me, whispers buzzing. I wanted to shrink.
My skin burned. I hugged my bag tighter.
The elevator swallowed us whole, sleek and mirrored on all sides. Fifty floors slid by in silence. He stood beside me, broad shoulders squared, hands in his pockets. He didn't so much as glance in my direction. Yet somehow, he was everywhere. Filling the air, looking like the calm before storm
The car waiting at the curb was sleek, black, and intimidating. He slid in first. I hesitated until his assistant—Julian, I'd learned—shot me a look that said, Don't make this harder on yourself.
Inside, leather and quiet power wrapped around me. My hands twisted in my lap.
"There are rules," he said suddenly.
My stomach tightened. "Rules?"
"Yes." He turned his gaze on me then, sharp and merciless. "From this moment forward, you're Mrs. Veyron. That title comes with obligations."
He dictated a set of stringent stipulations to Elena, outlining the parameters of their unconventional arrangement with an air of detached authority, specifying expectations of discretion, compliance, and controlled interaction that reflected the commanding nature of his formidable presence.
"Our marriage is a performance. You play the part, and you play it well. If you remember, the contract states no love, and freedom after all debts of your father are paid off... As much as it's a fake marriage, it's not an open one either, so I expect your loyalty, and I assure you mine." He said almost reassuringly
He tossed the question at her abruptly, "You don't have a boyfriend, yes? Even if you do, I advise you end it now."
Elena's head turned toward him, a mild surprise flickering for an instant before I answered with calm assurance, "No, I don't," her voice even and self-possessed, carrying a quiet confidence that didn't invite further probing.
Heat rushed up my neck. I looked away, chewing my lip, wishing the city lights could swallow me.
The car slowed, pulling up to a penthouse screaming wealth and status in the finest neighborhood in the city.
The driver opened my door. Cold air rushed in. Alexander offered his hand. I took it, because what else could I do? His grip was steady, firm, like inviting me to a world that should have been normal, but felt foreign
"You'll have everything you need," he said. "But remember—comfort comes with compliance. Disobey, and…"
He stepped close, gray eyes cutting into me. "…you'll learn."
Then, he walked towards the entrance, and I followed behind. He used his keycard to open the door and stepped in, holding the door open for me.
Inside was a cozy-looking, well-furnished house. I took a minute to analyze the house and took careful steps further, with him standing not far from me. The wall was filled with simple but expensive-looking paintings. I turned slowly, staring at art that probably cost more than my father's entire debt, at furniture arranged perfectly as if no one had ever dared to sit.
"I'll be in my study," his voice drew me out of my reverie. He began to walk away, but paused midway, then turned to look at me. "Once again, welcome home," he said, before continuing up the stairs, his departure leaving me suspended in the hush of the immaculate space.
---
Mrs. Veyron."
The voice jolted me. I turned to see a woman standing near the kitchen entrance. Early fifties, with hair in a neat bun and posture as stiff as the marble counters. She wore a tailored uniform and carried herself with the calm authority of someone who ran the place more than lived in it.
I'm Mrs Davenport," she said with a warm smile. "I manages the household staff."
"Household staff?" I echoed faintly.
The woman dipped her head, eyes appraising me without warmth or malice. "Welcome, Mrs. Veyron. Everything you require will be provided. If you need anything, you speak to me."
Mrs. Davenport. I filed the name away, noting how even she—an employee—carried more confidence than I currently did. She didn't seem surprised by my presence, suggesting Alexander might have given her a heads-up about my arrival. "I'll be showing you to your room," she said with that warm smile still on her face.
"My room?" I repeated, blinking.
"Please follow me," she said, starting to walk towards the stairs, and I quietly followed suit.
---
Mrs. Davenport guided me through the penthouse. Each room was more stunning than the last—crystal chandeliers, imported rugs, walls lined with books and art. There was a rooftop garden, a private gym, a dining room that could seat twenty though I suspected he rarely entertained.
But none of it felt mine.
When she opened the door to a room, I forced a polite smile. It was larger than the apartment I grew up in. Soft bedding, tasteful décor, a perfect view of the sunset
"Dinner is at eight," Davenport said briskly. "Punctuality is expected."
Then she left me there, standing in the silence of a room I didn't belong to.
I sat on the bed, gripping the sheets until my knuckles turned white. The city glittered beyond the glass, taunting me with freedom I couldn't touch.
I thought about my father. His debts. His desperation.
And then I thought about Alexander. His rules. His power. His eyes that seemed to strip me bare.
This was my life now...