The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.
Elara stepped inside, the cold luxury of Velletto Penthouse swallowing her whole. Black marble floors, dim golden lighting, glass walls overlooking the city like they owned it.
Adrian walked ahead, his stride calm and unhurried, as if bringing home a wife through a contract was the most natural thing in the world.
"Your room is on the right," he said without turning.
His voice… too composed. Too controlled.
Like a man who never needed to raise his tone to command obedience.
Elara followed, her heels tapping against the floor — tap… tap… tap, a rhythm that sounded too loud in a house built on secrets.
She stopped at the door he pointed to.
"You'll stay here," Adrian said.
"And you?" she asked.
He looked at her. Slowly. His gaze dropped to her lips for the briefest moment before rising again to meet her eyes.
"I don't share rooms."
"Good," she replied instantly.
A small twitch flickered at the corner of his lips — not quite a smile. More like he enjoyed her defiance.
He opened the door for her but didn't step in.
"There are rules."
"Of course," she replied, arms crossed.
Adrian leaned against the doorframe, voice low.
"Rule one — no lies inside this house."
Elara's heartbeat stuttered. A lie was the very foundation of her being here. Yet she lifted her chin.
"And what if truth is more dangerous?"
For a moment… something dark flashed in his eyes.
"Then it's worth hearing."
He stepped closer. Close enough that she could feel the heat of his presence, close enough that his shadow covered her completely.
"Rule two — don't run."
His tone was calm. Gentle even.
But the warning beneath it was sharp as a blade.
Elara met his gaze without flinching.
"I don't run."
"Good," he said, and this time, he almost smiled. "I hate chasing."
She turned to enter her room, but Adrian spoke again — this time softer.
"Elara."
She stopped.
"You can hate me. You can curse me. But remember this—"
His voice lowered, threading through her like silk and steel all at once.
"You belong to me from the moment you signed that contract. And I… don't like losing what's mine."
Her pulse jumped.
She closed the door between them. Clicked the lock.
…
Adrian stood on the other side, hands in his pockets, a slow smirk spreading on his lips as he heard the lock — like a predator amused that its prey thought wooden doors meant safety.
"Lock all the doors you want, Elara," he murmured to the silence.
"But don't forget— I hold the key to every escape."