Chapter Three: Under the Same Roof
Elena regretted signing the contract the second she stepped into Adrian Wolfe's penthouse.
It wasn't simply luxurious.
It was overwhelming.
Glass walls stretched from floor to ceiling, revealing the city in glittering detail. Marble floors reflected warm, controlled lighting. Every surface was pristine. Intentional. Untouchable.
Just like him.
"This will be your home," Adrian said as the elevator doors closed behind them.
Home.
The word didn't belong to her anymore.
"I assume there are rules," she said evenly.
"There are."
He walked past her, removing his cufflinks with measured precision.
"You'll move in tonight. The public announcement goes live at eight tomorrow morning. We have three events scheduled this week."
"That fast?"
"Yes."
She folded her arms. "And what exactly am I in this arrangement? Decoration?"
His gaze shifted to her.
"A partner. Legally."
"You know that's not what I meant."
"I do."
Silence settled between them.
He pressed a code into a glass panel. A concealed door slid open.
"This is your room."
Your room.
Not ours.
She stepped inside.
Elegant. Neutral. Perfectly arranged.
Completely impersonal.
"You prepared this in advance," she said.
"I prepare for every outcome."
"How long have you planned this?"
A brief pause.
"Long enough."
She turned to face him fully.
"You targeted me."
His jaw tightened.
"I selected you."
"That doesn't make it better."
He stepped closer—not threatening, but deliberate.
"You needed stability," he said evenly. "I offered it."
"You offered control."
His eyes darkened.
"I don't control you."
"The contract says otherwise."
"It says partnership."
"It says obedience."
A flicker of irritation surfaced.
"You read it carefully."
"I'm not naïve."
"I never assumed you were."
The tension between them sharpened.
For a moment, neither moved.
She became aware of how close he stood. The faint scent of his cologne. The warmth in the space between them.
Dangerous.
"You like control," she said quietly.
"It prevents disorder."
"Or vulnerability."
His expression hardened.
"This arrangement is not emotional."
"Then stop looking at me like that."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
His brows lowered slightly. "Like what?"
"Like you're trying to solve me."
He exhaled slowly.
"You intrigue me."
Her heart responded before her pride could intervene.
"I shouldn't."
"Probably not."
Silence lingered.
Something unspoken hovered there.
She stepped back first.
"When is the announcement?"
"Eight a.m."
"And your rivals?"
"They'll pay attention."
"And your family?"
His gaze cooled instantly.
"They are irrelevant."
"They won't be if I'm your wife."
"You are my contractual wife."
"There's a difference?"
"Yes."
"What is it?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he turned toward the window overlooking the city.
"The Whitmores believe I no longer matter," he said at last.
She approached carefully.
"They don't know you're the disowned heir."
"No."
"And if they find out?"
"They'll realize their miscalculation."
His tone was steady. Too steady.
"You're not trying to compete," she said quietly. "You're trying to dismantle them."
He didn't contradict her.
"That's risky."
"So is insignificance."
For the first time, she saw beyond the polish.
Not just ambition.
Something wounded.
"You were betrayed," she said softly.
His shoulders stiffened.
"Don't analyze me."
"I'm observing."
"You don't know the story."
"Then tell me."
A long pause.
"No."
Frustration flared.
"You expect me to stand beside you in public, defend you, smile for cameras… but you won't trust me with the truth?"
"You are protected," he replied evenly. "That is sufficient."
"For you."
His eyes sharpened.
"For now."
The phrase lingered.
For now.
She turned away.
"This isn't partnership," she muttered. "It's strategy."
"And yet," he said quietly, "you agreed."
She spun back toward him.
"Because everything else was collapsing!"
"You still had a choice."
"Not a real one."
Her voice wavered despite her effort to steady it.
His expression shifted slightly.
"Your fiancé left," he said.
"That's personal."
"It affects this arrangement."
"You don't get to question my past when you won't even share your real name."
The words landed hard.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
His jaw tightened.
"Be careful, Elena."
"Why? Afraid I'll understand you?"
He stepped closer again.
Close enough to unsteady her breath.
"You understand very little," he said quietly.
"Then why react?"
His hand lifted suddenly.
She froze.
But he didn't grab her.
He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face.
Slow. Controlled. Unexpectedly gentle.
Her pulse surged.
"Because," he said softly, "if you understand too much, you become vulnerable."
Her stomach tightened.
"That sounds like a warning."
"It is."
Their eyes held.
This wasn't affection.
It was tension sharpened by proximity and power.
"You don't intimidate me," she whispered.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Most people say that."
"I'm not most people."
"No," he agreed quietly. "You're not."
For a brief moment, something else flickered in his expression.
Curiosity.
Then the penthouse intercom buzzed.
Adrian stepped back immediately, composure sliding back into place.
"Yes?"
"Sir," his assistant said, voice crisp through the speaker. "The Whitmore board has called an emergency meeting. Your name came up."
Elena felt the shift in him instantly.
"They're moving sooner than expected," Adrian murmured.
"Shall I prepare a response?"
"No," he said calmly. "Let them speculate."
The line disconnected.
"They suspect something," Elena said.
"They're uneasy."
"And if they uncover the truth?"
His gaze turned glacial.
"They won't."
"But if they do?"
He looked at her directly.
Unblinking.
"If they do," he said quietly, "they'll regret ever trying to erase me."
A chill ran through her.
This wasn't just a marriage of convenience.
She had aligned herself with a force gathering momentum.
And forces like that didn't soften.
They reshaped everything in their path.
She swallowed.
"Then we should probably learn how to survive each other," she said carefully.
A slow, deliberate smile curved his mouth.
"Oh, Elena," he replied softly.