Elena didn't sleep.
She lay on the massive bed, staring at the dark ceiling while the mansion remained unnervingly silent around her. The sheets were too soft, the pillows too perfect—everything screamed Victor Hale's control.
This bed was not meant to be shared.
Yet.
She rolled onto her side, clutching the edge of the blanket as her thoughts spiraled. Tomorrow's charity dinner replayed in her mind, along with his words.
You'll remember who you belong to.
Her jaw tightened.
"I belong to myself," she whispered into the darkness, even if the words felt fragile.
A soft click sounded at the door.
Elena stiffened.
The door opened, and Victor stepped inside.
He had changed out of his suit. Now he wore a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, the top button undone. Casual. Dangerous. Intimate in a way that made her pulse spike.
She sat up immediately. "What are you doing?"
"Relax," he said calmly, closing the door behind him. "I'm not here to touch you."
She didn't miss the way his eyes lingered on her legs as she drew the blanket tighter around herself.
"Then why are you here?"
He walked toward the window, loosening his cufflinks. "Because we need boundaries before this arrangement becomes a problem."
"You're already a problem," she muttered.
He glanced back at her, amused. "Careful."
Elena lifted her chin. "You said rules. Fine. Let's talk about them."
Victor leaned against the dresser, arms crossed. "You will attend events with me. You will dress appropriately. You will not embarrass me."
"And you won't touch me without consent," she shot back.
His gaze sharpened. "Consent is implied by the contract."
Her heart skipped. "That's not how consent works."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then Victor sighed, as if indulging a child.
"I won't force you," he said quietly. "Not yet."
Her breath caught at the words.
"Then why make me sleep here?" she asked.
"Because I need people to believe you're mine." His eyes darkened. "And because temptation is more effective when it's close."
Heat flooded her face. "You're cruel."
"I'm honest."
He moved toward the bed, stopping a careful distance away. Too close. Not close enough.
"You'll stay on your side," he continued. "I won't touch you unless you ask."
She scoffed. "That will never happen."
Victor smiled slowly, confidently. "We'll see."
He turned off the main light, leaving only the soft glow of a lamp near the window. The shadows softened his sharp features, making him look even more dangerous.
He lay down on the opposite side of the bed.
The mattress dipped.
Elena froze.
This was worse than being alone.
She could feel his presence—warm, steady, controlled. The air between them felt charged, thick with things unsaid.
Minutes passed. Maybe longer.
"Why me?" she asked suddenly.
Victor didn't answer right away.
Finally, he said, "Because you're strong."
She turned her head to look at him. "That's a lie."
"No," he said softly. "Weak women beg. You didn't."
Her chest tightened. "You threatened my mother."
His jaw clenched. "And you still looked me in the eye."
Silence fell again.
Elena swallowed. "Who hurt you?"
She felt him tense beside her.
"That question," he said coolly, "is off-limits."
She nodded, sensing the invisible wall she had hit.
Another stretch of quiet.
Then, without thinking, she whispered, "Are you going to regret this?"
Victor turned onto his side, facing her. In the dim light, his eyes burned.
"I already do," he said. "And that's what worries me."
Her breath hitched.
Something about the honesty in his voice unraveled her defenses.
She shifted slightly—and her foot brushed against his leg.
It was an accident.
But neither of them moved away.
The contact was minimal, innocent, yet it sent a shock through her body. Her skin tingled where they touched, awareness flooding her senses.
Victor inhaled slowly.
"Move," she whispered, panicked.
He didn't.
"Tell me to," he murmured.
Her heart thundered. She wanted to. She should.
But her lips betrayed her silence.
After a long moment, Victor exhaled and shifted away, breaking the contact himself.
"Sleep," he said roughly. "Tomorrow will be worse."
He turned his back to her.
Elena lay awake, heart racing, her body humming with everything she refused to acknowledge.
This wasn't just a contract.
It was a slow, dangerous descent.
And she was already falling.