The mansion was too quiet at night.
Alina stood inside the guest suite Adrian had prepared for her. The room was larger than her entire apartment. Soft beige walls. A king-sized bed. A balcony overlooking the city skyline.
Beautiful.
But unfamiliar.
She placed her small suitcase near the dresser. It looked almost embarrassing in such a luxurious room.
This wasn't home.
This was temporary.
One year, she reminded herself.
Just one year.
A soft knock came at the door.
Her heart jumped.
"It's me," Adrian's voice came gently from the other side.
She hesitated before opening it.
He stood there without his suit jacket, hair slightly disheveled now. Less CEO. More… man.
"I wanted to make sure you're comfortable," he said.
"I'm fine."
He nodded, but didn't leave.
There was something careful about the way he looked at her — like he was constantly measuring how much space to give.
"Dinner is downstairs if you're hungry."
"I'm not."
A small pause.
"You didn't eat at the ceremony either."
Her fingers tightened around the doorknob.
Why did he notice that?
"I wasn't hungry," she repeated.
His eyes softened, but he didn't argue.
"Alright."
He turned to leave, then stopped.
"If you need anything at all… my room is across the hall."
Across the hall.
So close.
The air between them felt heavier than it should.
"Goodnight, Alina."
He said her name gently.
Not like possession.
Like something fragile.
"Goodnight."
She closed the door.
But she didn't move away.
Her back rested against it as her heart beat faster than it should have.
This was ridiculous.
He hadn't touched her.
Hadn't pressured her.
Hadn't even looked at her improperly.
So why did she feel this tension?
An hour later, she couldn't sleep.
The unfamiliar bed. The silence. The weight of everything.
She stepped out into the hallway quietly.
The mansion lights were dimmed, casting soft shadows.
And then she saw it.
A faint light under Adrian's door.
He wasn't sleeping either.
She shouldn't.
She knew she shouldn't.
But her feet moved anyway.
She knocked lightly.
A few seconds later, the door opened.
Adrian stood there, sleeves rolled up, glasses resting low on his nose — something she hadn't seen before.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
"I didn't wake you, did I?" she asked.
"I wasn't sleeping."
She noticed papers scattered across his desk.
Work.
Of course.
"You should rest," she said quietly.
He gave a small smile. "So should you."
Silence again.
This one wasn't uncomfortable.
Just… charged.
"I'm not used to this," she admitted suddenly.
"Neither am I," he replied.
That surprised her.
"You've never been married?"
"No."
There was no hesitation in his answer.
She stepped slightly inside without realizing it.
His room felt different from hers.
Darker tones. Minimal decoration. A space that looked lived in but not loved.
"Are you regretting this?" she asked softly.
His expression changed.
"No."
Not even a second of doubt.
"I would only regret it," he continued quietly, "if you were unhappy."
Her breath caught.
Why did he say things like that?
Why did he look at her like she mattered?
She folded her arms unconsciously.
"This is just a contract, Adrian."
His eyes moved to her folded arms — defensive.
"I know."
"Then don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm already important."
That made him go still.
For a long moment, he didn't speak.
Then he said softly,
"You are."
The honesty in his voice scared her.
Because it didn't feel like manipulation.
It felt real.
She stepped back slightly.
"You shouldn't."
His jaw tightened — not in anger, but restraint.
"I don't expect anything from you, Alina."
"Then why does it feel like you do?"
He exhaled slowly.
"Because I've wanted this longer than you think."
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"What does that mean?"
But before he could answer, his phone vibrated sharply on the desk.
The moment shattered.
He glanced at the screen, expression shifting slightly.
"Work," he said quietly.
Of course.
Reality returning.
She nodded and stepped toward the door.
"Goodnight, Adrian."
This time, he didn't stop her.
But as she reached the hallway, his voice followed softly behind her.
"You're safe here."
Safe.
That word echoed inside her long after she closed her bedroom door.
And for the first time since signing that contract…
She realized the most dangerous part of this marriage wasn't the lack of love.
It was the possibility of finding it.