I sat in Duke Alaric's study, feeling the weight of his scrutiny upon me. The atmosphere was tense, each word between us carrying significance beyond the ordinary. My hands folded in my lap to hide their slight trembling.
"No, Your Grace," I said firmly. "I'm not working with my father."
His gaze was piercing, searching for dishonesty. "And why should I believe that?"
I sighed, the sound soft in the grand room. "Because my father is ashamed of me. He wouldn't use me for anything that required me to be seen in public."
"Then explain something to me," Alaric leaned forward, elbows on his desk. "Why would a woman who has spent her life hiding behind a mask suddenly want to marry the most visible bachelor in the kingdom? It makes no sense."
The question struck at the heart of my fears. I looked down at my hands before meeting his eyes again.
"It wasn't planned," I admitted. "When I saw you in the garden yesterday, I recognized an opportunity. The proposal was... spontaneous."
"Spontaneous?" His eyebrows raised. "Most women don't spontaneously propose marriage to strangers."
I straightened my spine. "Most women aren't desperate to escape their families."
Alaric studied me for a long moment. "And why me, specifically? Beyond my title and wealth."
"You're known to be private despite your position. You rarely attend social functions. You have the power to keep my family at bay." I paused. "And I thought perhaps... a man with your reputation might appreciate a wife who keeps to herself."
A hint of a smile touched his lips. "You mean a man rumored to be a monster might want a bride who stays out of his way?"
I felt heat rise to my cheeks beneath my mask. "Something like that."
"Yet you just said you don't want to hide anymore. That contradicts your reasoning."
"I don't want to live in shadows," I clarified. "But I don't need to be the center of attention either. I simply want to exist without fear."
Alaric drummed his fingers on the desk, his expression contemplative. Then, as if making a decision, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a piece of parchment.
"If we're to have a contract marriage, we need rules," he said, placing the paper between us. His tone had shifted to something almost playful, as if this were a game he'd decided to indulge in.
My eyes widened. "You're accepting my proposal?"
I reached for the paper, but before my fingers could touch it, Alaric's hand shot out and grasped my wrist. His grip was firm but not painful, his touch sending unexpected warmth up my arm.
"Your hand," he said, turning my palm upward to reveal the redness that marked my skin. "Who did this to you?"
I pulled back instinctively. "It's nothing. An accident with hot water this morning."
His eyes narrowed, clearly not believing me, but he released my wrist. "Let's establish our conditions, shall we?"
I nodded, grateful for the change of subject. "What did you have in mind?"
"First," he said, picking up a pen, "no love. This is a business arrangement."
"Agreed," I said quickly. "No love."
He wrote it down, his script elegant and precise. "Second, this arrangement stays between us. Only Alistair will know the truth."
"Of course."
"Third," he continued, "if you have concerns or issues, you bring them to me directly. No schemes, no intermediaries."
I nodded. "Communication is important, even in a false marriage."
His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw approval in them.
"What would you like to add?" he asked.
I considered carefully. "I keep my mask on until I'm comfortable removing it. No pressure from you on that front."
"Fair enough," he conceded, writing it down. "Though I've already seen what's beneath it."
"Seeing once and living with daily are different matters," I said quietly.
He inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Any other conditions?"
I hesitated, then spoke. "I'd like to have some freedom. To visit the library, the gardens. To not feel like a prisoner, just in a different cage."
"You'll have full access to the estate," he said without hesitation. "And an allowance for your own purchases. You'll be my duchess in name; you should have the privileges that come with it."
The word "duchess" made my stomach flutter. I hadn't fully contemplated what my title would be.
Alaric added another line to the paper. "We'll share a room."
My breath caught. "I thought... I assumed we would have separate chambers."
A slow smile spread across his face, somehow both wicked and amused. "Separate bedchambers would raise questions among the staff and guests. We need to appear as a normal married couple."
"But..." I stammered, feeling heat rise to my face.
"Initially, sharing a room will mean just that—sharing the space," he clarified, his voice dropping lower. "Just sleeping. Unless you'd prefer more?"
The teasing lilt in his voice made my face burn hotter. "No! I mean—sleeping is fine."
His chuckle was deep and rich, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. "You blush so easily, Isabella. Your mask doesn't hide it."
I looked away, mortified that my inexperience was so obvious. "Is there anything else we need to establish?"
"Yes," he said, sobering. "Your safety is paramount. Anyone who threatens or harms you answers to me."
Something in his tone made me look up. There was steel in his voice, a promise of protection that made my throat tighten unexpectedly.
"That seems... excessive," I managed.
"It's non-negotiable." He signed his name at the bottom of the paper with a flourish. "Your turn."
I took the pen, its weight suddenly significant in my hand. As I signed my name beside his, I felt as though I was sealing my fate—for better or worse.
"Should we add some kind of punishment if either of us breaks the contract?" I asked, setting the pen down. "Or perhaps set a timeline for how long this arrangement will last?"
Alaric's expression changed, growing more intense. "Forever."
"I'm sorry?"
"This contract is forever," he stated flatly. "Add that to our conditions—married forever."
The word echoed in my mind. Forever. Not a temporary escape, but a lifetime commitment.
"Forever?" I repeated weakly. "But why would you want to be bound to this arrangement permanently?"
"Because I despise divorce more than I despise marriage," he said simply. "And because once you become a Thorne, you remain a Thorne. That's important to me."
I stared at him, trying to comprehend his reasoning. This man, who had agreed to a loveless marriage of convenience, now insisted on permanence. It made no sense.
"But what if... what if someday you want to marry for real?" I asked. "For love?"
Something flickered in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or derision. "I don't believe in love, Isabella. Not the kind in storybooks. And I have no desire to chase it."
"And if I someday want love?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Alaric leaned forward, his gaze capturing mine. "Then you'll have to find it within the boundaries of our arrangement. Add 'married forever' to the contract."
My hand trembled slightly as I wrote the words. Two simple words that changed everything about my proposal. This wasn't just an escape anymore—it was a new prison, albeit one with gilded bars.
Yet as I looked at Alaric across the desk, at his steady gaze and the power that emanated from him, I realized I wasn't afraid. Whatever his reasons for accepting my proposal, whatever game he was playing, he offered protection and freedom from my family. And for now, that was enough.
"Forever," I whispered, setting down the pen. "It's done."