Chapter 3
Under His Roof
The house didn't look like a home.
It looked like a statement.
Mila stood at the iron gates, staring at the modern estate that stretched far beyond what she had imagined. Glass walls, clean lines, lights glowing softly against the evening sky. Everything about it was quiet, powerful, untouchable.
The gates slid open without a sound.
A car waited for her, sleek and black, its engine already running.
No one asked her if she was ready.
By the time Mila stepped inside, the reality settled heavily on her chest.
This wasn't temporary.
This wasn't casual.
This was Adrian Blackwood's world, and she had just been allowed inside it.
---
The front doors opened to reveal a vast, minimalist interior. Marble floors. High ceilings. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. The air smelled faintly of wood and something sharp, clean, expensive.
"Welcome, Miss Hart."
A woman in a neat uniform stood near the staircase. "I'm Clara. I'll be assisting you during your stay."
Mila nodded. "Thank you."
"Your room has been prepared. The doctor will arrive tomorrow morning for further instructions."
Mila followed silently, her footsteps echoing too loudly in the space.
The room she was shown to was larger than her entire apartment. Soft neutral tones, a wide bed, a balcony overlooking the garden. Everything was perfect.
Too perfect.
She placed her bag at the foot of the bed and turned slowly, absorbing the fact that this was now her reality.
A knock sounded on the open door.
She stiffened.
Adrian stepped in without waiting for permission.
He had removed his jacket, sleeves rolled up, watch glinting under the lights. Somehow, he looked even more intimidating in a private setting.
"You're settled," he said.
"Yes," Mila replied.
"Good." His eyes swept the room briefly before returning to her. "There are rules."
She straightened instinctively.
"You'll have your own space," Adrian continued. "No unauthorized visitors. No interviews. No social media mentions of this arrangement."
"I understand."
"You'll follow the medical schedule exactly as given." His voice lowered slightly. "And you will not forget why you're here."
Mila met his gaze. "I won't."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
His eyes lingered, just a fraction longer than necessary on her face. She didn't look impressed by the wealth. She didn't look afraid either.
That unsettled him.
"This arrangement remains professional," Adrian said firmly. "Do not confuse proximity with permission."
Her heart thudded, but she nodded. "I won't cross any lines."
"Good."
He turned to leave.
Then stopped.
"There's a chef on staff," he added without looking at her. "Your meals will be planned."
Mila hesitated. "I can cook for myself..."
"No." His voice was final. "You won't."
She swallowed and nodded again.
As the door closed behind him, Mila sank onto the bed, exhaling slowly.
She had agreed to carry his child.
She hadn't agreed to feel like she'd stepped into a cage made of glass and gold.
---
Later that night, Adrian stood alone in his office, city lights reflecting against the windows.
He told himself the tension he felt was irritation.
He told himself the way her quiet obedience unsettled him meant nothing.
Yet his gaze drifted to the security screen paused on her balcony, where she stood alone, arms wrapped around herself, staring out into the dark.
Too small for this world.
Too real.
Adrian clenched his jaw and turned the screen off.
This was a mistake.
And for the first time since he'd decided to become a father, he wasn't sure if the mistake was the arrangement…
Or her.