Sunlight filtered through the thick curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
Elara opened her eyes slowly, heart pounding—not from the storm this time, but from the memory of last night.
She had stayed in Lucien's bed, inches away from the man she hated… and yet, part of her wished she hadn't moved.
He was still asleep, his face calm, perfect, untouchable. His hand rested on the sheets near hers. Too close for comfort.
She froze.
Her mind screamed, This is insane. One night, nothing happened. Just survival.
And yet…
A small part of her wanted him to move closer.
She didn't.
Not yet.
The door clicked.
Lucien stirred. Opened one eye. His dark gaze locked on hers instantly.
"Good morning," he said, voice low, rough.
Elara sat up abruptly, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. "Good… morning."
He raised an eyebrow, smirk playing on his lips. "You slept well?"
"I… yes," she lied, avoiding his gaze.
He studied her silently, like he could see through every lie, every thought.
"Do you always wake up like that?" he asked finally, nodding toward the messy hair and flushed cheeks.
Elara huffed. "Do you always spy on your wife?"
The smirk widened. "I am not 'spying.' I am… monitoring."
Her heart skipped. "Monitoring?"
"Yes. Ensuring you're alive, safe… unharmed."
Her throat tightened.
She wanted to protest. To scream that she didn't need protection. But the truth? She did. From everything. From everyone. Especially from herself.
Breakfast was silent. The butler served them in the sunroom. Each movement calculated, precise.
Lucien poured her coffee. Their fingers brushed, and this time, she didn't pull away. Not entirely.
"You think too much," he said softly. "You're tense, wary. You have to relax."
She swallowed. "It's… hard to relax when every glance, every step, feels like a trap."
"You've already signed the contract," he reminded her. "You chose this."
"Yes. I chose survival."
"And yet," he murmured, leaning closer, "I see something else. Fear. Desire. Something you're not willing to admit."
Elara's hand shook as she lifted the coffee cup. Her pulse thudded.
"How do you… always know?"
He gave a small, almost shy shrug. "Because I know you better than you know yourself."
Her breath caught.
The words weren't cold, weren't commanding. They were dangerous. Intimate. And they stirred something inside her that she could no longer ignore.
Breakfast ended too quickly.
When Lucien rose, he left her with one final warning:
"Don't forget—outside these walls, I am ruthless. Inside… I am just a man who knows he can't stay away from you."
Elara stared after him, the coffee growing cold in her hands.
This contract was supposed to protect her.
Instead, it was unraveling her.
And she was helpless to stop it.