FREYA'S POV
I refused to let his intimidation tactics break my composure, and I simply turned my back toward him so I could follow Leon out of the massive home office. The executive assistant did not speak a single word as we walked through the grand foyer, and he guided me toward a wide marble staircase that led to the second floor of the mansion. We walked down a long, incredibly quiet hallway located in the east wing of the estate, and the sheer size of the building emphasized my physical isolation from my familiar life. The walls were covered with expensive oil paintings, and my cheap canvas sneakers sank deeply into the thick carpet with every step we took. Leon finally stopped walking when we reached a heavy mahogany door at the very end of the corridor, and he turned the brass handle to push the door open for me.
"This room will serve as your private quarters for the duration of the contract, and you will find fresh towels inside the adjoining bathroom," Leon instructed me while he placed my worn-out suitcase onto the floor near the bed. "Mr. Kingsley expects you to be ready to leave for the municipal courthouse at exactly eight o'clock tomorrow morning, so I strongly advise you to get enough sleep tonight."
"I am perfectly capable of managing my own sleeping schedule without your unnecessary advice, but I appreciate your physical assistance with my heavy luggage," I replied politely because Leon was merely following orders, although I still deeply resented the entire legal arrangement.
Leon bowed his head slightly and walked out of the bedroom, pulling the heavy wooden door completely shut behind him until the metal latch clicked loudly. I stood alone in the center of the massive room, and I looked around at the incredibly expensive furniture surrounding me. A massive king-sized bed dominated the space, and thick velvet curtains covered the tall glass windows that overlooked the dark gardens. I walked over to my cheap suitcase and unzipped the main compartment so I could unpack my basic clothing items. I opened the door to the walk-in closet, and I felt completely ridiculous when I hung my faded denim jeans and my plain cotton t-shirts inside the enormous, empty storage space.
After I finished unpacking my meager belongings, I walked into the attached bathroom to wash away the heavy physical exhaustion of my double waitressing shift. The bathroom featured smooth marble floors and a massive glass shower enclosure, so I turned the silver knobs to let the hot water run over my tired muscles for twenty full minutes. I washed my hair with the vanilla-scented shampoo provided on the marble shelf, and I dried my skin with a thick white towel before I put on my simple cotton pajamas. I walked back into the main bedroom and climbed into the giant bed. I pulled the soft duvet over my shoulders, but my intense anxiety regarding the legal marriage contract kept me awake for several long hours while I stared directly at the dark ceiling.
My body was completely accustomed to opening Carl's Diner very early in the morning, so I woke up at exactly six o'clock despite my severe lack of proper sleep. I pushed the heavy blankets aside and walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth with mint toothpaste before I brushed my dark hair until the strands were entirely smooth. I walked back into the closet and dressed myself in a pair of clean denim jeans and a simple white cotton t-shirt because I wanted to feel physically comfortable during the stressful legal process. I secured my canvas sneakers onto my feet and quietly walked out of my bedroom to navigate the confusing hallways of the massive estate. I needed a strong cup of coffee to start my difficult day, and I wandered down the marble staircase until I successfully located the primary kitchen area on the first floor.
The kitchen was larger than my entire apartment, and it featured multiple stainless steel appliances alongside endless granite countertops. I did not want to rely on the wealthy household staff for my basic needs, so I immediately began searching through the wooden cabinets until I found a bag of dark roast coffee beans and a complex espresso machine. I poured the beans into the grinder and brewed a large mug of hot coffee for myself, and then I opened the massive commercial refrigerator to retrieve a carton of fresh eggs and a stick of yellow butter. I placed a heavy metal frying pan onto the gas stove, and I turned the plastic dial to ignite the blue flame. I cracked three eggs into the hot pan and seasoned them with salt and black pepper while the smell of cooking food finally filled the sterile room.
"Excuse me, miss, but you are absolutely not permitted to use those cooking appliances," a loud voice suddenly announced from the kitchen doorway, and I turned around to see a middle-aged man wearing a professional white chef's coat staring at me in complete shock.
"I am perfectly capable of cooking my own breakfast, and I prefer to prepare my own food rather than waiting for someone else to serve me," I explained while I used a plastic spatula to flip the frying eggs neatly inside the hot pan. "You do not need to worry about my presence in this room because I will wash all the dirty dishes with soap and water as soon as I finish eating my meal."
"My name is Henry, and I am the head chef of this household," the man stated nervously as he walked closer to the stove to inspect my cooking technique. "The kitchen staff is strictly responsible for all food preparation in this house, and Mr. Kingsley will fire me immediately if he discovers a guest cooking her own breakfast on my stove."
"You will not be fired today because I will personally inform your employer that I insisted on making my own food, and he cannot force me to change my daily habits," I assured him confidently, and I slid the cooked eggs onto a ceramic plate before I turned off the gas burner.
Before Henry could argue with me again, the heavy wooden door swung open, and Mason walked into the kitchen. He wore a perfectly tailored dark navy suit with a crisp white shirt and a blue silk tie, and his dark hair was combed immaculately because he was preparing to leave for the municipal courthouse. He stopped walking when he saw me standing next to the stove holding a plate of food, and his eyes immediately scanned my casual clothing with intense disapproval.
"Why are you wearing those faded denim pants and that cheap cotton shirt when we are scheduled to sign official legal documents this morning?" Mason demanded harshly while he treated me exactly like a disobedient employee who had violated a strict corporate dress code. "You look completely inappropriate for a public legal ceremony, and I will not allow you to embarrass me in front of the city officials."
I placed my ceramic plate down on the granite counter and crossed my arms over my chest because I absolutely refused to let his arrogant attitude dictate my personal choices.
"I will wear my own comfortable clothing to the courthouse because I am not a plastic doll for you to dress up, and the city clerk does not care about designer fashion," I replied firmly, staring directly at his face.
Mason took a step closer to me, and he lowered his voice into a completely authoritative tone that demanded absolute obedience. "You will go upstairs and wear the expensive dress I purchased for you, or my stepmother will ensure you do not survive your first official family breakfast when we return to this house."