I avoided Alexander for two days.
Not because I was afraid—but because I wasn't.
That scared me more.
The penthouse became a shared space divided by silence. We moved around each other carefully, like strangers who had learned each other's routines too well. If I entered a room, he left it. If he was already there, he kept his distance.
The rules were back in place.
Tighter than ever.
On the third morning, my phone buzzed.
A notification from a news site.
**BLACKWOOD CEO MARRIES IN SECRET — WHO IS ELARA BLACKWOOD?**
My stomach dropped.
More headlines followed.
*Unknown bride sparks speculation.*
*Is the marriage a business move?*
*Ex-fiancée rumored to be involved.*
I scrolled until my hands shook.
Footsteps approached.
Alexander appeared beside me, already holding his phone. His jaw was tight, eyes cold.
"It's started," he said.
"You mean… this?" I held up my screen.
"Yes."
"They're tearing me apart," I whispered.
"They won't touch you," he said immediately. "I won't allow it."
"That's not how the media works."
He took the phone from my hand gently, then surprised me by keeping it.
"From now on," he said, "you don't read these."
"That's not realistic."
"It's necessary."
I looked up at him. "You can't control everything."
His gaze softened just slightly. "I know."
The admission felt heavier than all the rules combined.
"I have a meeting with the board today," he continued. "They want reassurance."
"About me?" I asked.
"About us."
The word us felt dangerous.
"What do they expect?" I asked.
"Unity," he replied. "Stability."
"And if they don't see it?"
His silence was answer enough.
I exhaled slowly. "Then let them see it."
His eyes flicked to mine. "You're sure?"
"No," I admitted. "But I didn't sign up to be hidden."
Something shifted in his expression—approval, maybe pride.
"Fine," he said. "You'll attend the dinner tonight."
Dinner. Board members. Powerful people.
"And Alexander?" I added.
"Yes?"
"If this gets worse… don't push me away."
His jaw tightened.
"I don't push people away," he said.
I met his gaze steadily. "You do."
A long pause.
Then, quietly, "I'll try not to."
That was the closest thing to a promise I'd heard from him.
---
That evening, he knocked on my door.
Knocked.
"Come in," I said.
He stepped inside, stopping just short of the space that felt too intimate. He held out a small velvet box.
"This is for tonight."
I opened it.
Inside was a simple gold bracelet. Elegant. Understated.
"No diamonds?" I teased lightly.
A corner of his mouth lifted. "I thought you'd prefer something less loud."
"You thought about it," I said.
"Yes."
He fastened it around my wrist, his fingers warm against my skin. The contact lingered a second too long.
Neither of us pulled away.
"I won't let them hurt you," he said quietly.
"I don't need a shield," I replied. "I need a partner."
His gaze met mine.
"I don't know how to be that," he admitted.
"Then learn," I said softly. "Like I am."
For a moment, control slipped.
His hand rose, brushing a strand of hair from my face—slow, careful, intentional.
Not for cameras.
Not for strategy.
For me.
He stopped himself just in time, dropping his hand.
"Get ready," he said hoarsely. "We're leaving in twenty minutes."
When he turned to go, I caught my reflection in the mirror.
The bracelet glinted softly on my wrist.
And for the first time, I realized—
The contract was no longer the most dangerous thing between us.