The silence in the attic after the journalists left was deafening. The cables and studio lights looked like wreckage in the middle of the living room. I stood there alone, touching my lips with my fingertips. I could still feel the pressure of his lips, the taste of the whiskey, and that urgency that wasn't in the contract.
Elias had locked himself in his office without another word, letting the air conditioning cool the heat we had generated in front of the cameras. I retreated to our shared bedroom—our "golden cage"—and collapsed onto the bed. The dark ceiling seemed to close in on me.
What had just happened? I had told the journalist that Elias had chosen me because I was worth more than his company. I had lied with a conviction that frightened me. But the worst part wasn't the lie, it was the kiss. Elias hadn't kissed me like a man fulfilling a legal obligation; He had kissed me like a man who is thirsty and has just found water in the desert.
Almost two hours later, I heard the metallic sound of the door opening. I tensed under the covers, closing my eyes and feigning sleep that was miles away. I heard his heavy footsteps, the rustle of his silk shirt as it fell to the floor, and the ticking of his watch on the nightstand. The mattress sagged beneath him, and suddenly, the scent of sandalwood and storm invaded my personal space once more.
"I know you're not asleep, Zahra," his voice was a husky whisper that cut through the darkness like a knife.
I remained motionless, my heart pounding against my ribs.
"Your breathing is too fast," he continued. I felt him turn toward me. "You're thinking about what happened in the living room. You're trying to find a logical explanation for something that has no logic."
I turned slowly, meeting his eyes in the dim light. He was leaning on his elbow, staring at me with an intensity that made me want to hide and, at the same time, draw closer. The moonlight filtering through the curtains highlighted the sharp line of his jaw and the disheveled hair.
"It was for the cameras, Elias. You said so yourself," my voice cracked more than I intended.
"I did," he admitted, his gaze drifting down to my lips for an eternity. "But we both know I'm a better liar than anyone in this building."
A thick silence fell, heavy with everything we hadn't dared to say. Elias reached out and, with a tortuous slowness, brushed my cheek with the back of his fingers. The touch was electric. I closed my eyes, letting out a sigh that betrayed my vulnerability.
"Why did you say that, Zahra?" he asked, his voice now softer, almost vulnerable. Why did you say I saw something in you I couldn't buy?
"Because it's the truth, Elias," I replied, opening my eyes and holding his gaze. "You can buy my time, you can buy my name on a piece of paper, you can even buy this dress and these diamonds. But you can't buy the way I look at you when you think I'm not noticing. You can't buy the fact that I know you're alone, even though you're surrounded by millions."
Elias pulled his hand back as if it had been burned. He sat up in bed, his back to me, and I could see his shoulders tense. The scar on his side seemed to glisten in the silvery light.
"You don't know me," he said, his tone turning icy again. "You have no idea what I've had to do to get where I am. There's nothing 'noble' about my solitude, Zahra. It's a choice. Armor."
"An armor that's suffocating you," I insisted, sitting down too, not caring that my silk nightgown left little to the imagination. "You kissed me, Elias. And it wasn't for the press. It was because you needed to feel something real for once in your damn perfect life."
He turned abruptly, grabbing my wrists with a force that wasn't painful, but immobilized me. His eyes were two pools of blue fire.
"Do you want to know how I really feel?" he growled, bringing his face close to mine until our noses touched. "I feel like I'm losing control. I feel like every time you walk into a room, my mind forgets the numbers and the contracts. I feel like this stupid game is going to destroy us both."
"Then stop playing," I whispered, my breath mingling with his.
For a moment, I thought he would kiss me again. His lips were millimeters from mine, and I could feel the trembling in his hands. The air in the room seemed to have vanished, leaving us in a void where only the two of us existed. But then, the ice man won the battle again.
Elias abruptly released me and got out of bed. He walked to the window, surveying the city like a general overlooking a battlefield.
"We're leaving for my grandfather's estate in the countryside first thing tomorrow," he said, his voice regaining that impersonal authority I hated so much. "The rest of the family will be there. My uncle, my cousins... they're all waiting for us to make a mistake so they can contest the will. If you think today's interview was difficult, you have no idea what awaits us there."
"Are you warning me, or are you asking me to protect you again?" I asked, wrapping myself in the sheet like a shield.
Elias turned, his silhouette outlined against the city lights.
"I'm telling you that starting tomorrow, the charade has to be absolute. There will be no separate rooms, no 'agreements' not to touch each other. In front of my family, we are the most passionate couple the world has ever seen. If they suspect this marriage is cold, they'll take everything from us. Including your freedom and your father's."
"I understand," I said, feeling a cold weight in my stomach. "I'll be the perfect wife, Elias. I won't let you down."
"It's not me I'm worried you'll let me down, Zahra," he murmured before lying down again, his back to me. "I'm worried you'll forget that when this is over, we'll each go our separate ways. There are no happy endings for people like us. There are only survivors."
I lay down beside him, keeping my distance, but my skin still burned where he had touched me. The trip to the Thorne estate wasn't just a test for the contract; it was a test for my heart. I was walking into the lion's den with the man who had bought me, and I realized, with a lump in my throat, that I no longer knew who the real enemy was: Elias's family, or the desire that was beginning to consume me from within.
I slept little that night, listening to the rhythm of his breathing and wondering if, in his dreams, Elias Thorne was also a survivor, or if he was simply a man waiting for someone to have the courage to break through his glass armor.