Aria stood by the massive window of the penthouse, sunlight streaking across her face—but she didn't feel its warmth. Not here. Not in Damien Blackwood's world. The cold inside this glass tower didn't come from the air conditioning; it came from him.
Three days.
Three days since she had signed the contract.
Three days since her name had become nothing more than a footnote beneath Damien's signature.
And still, she didn't know what Rule Number Three was.
"Why won't he just say it?" She whispered to her reflection in the glass.
She had followed Rule One: "Don't question his guests."
And Rule Two: "No contact with the media."
But Rule Number Three? It remained unspoken. A ghost.
And that unsettled her more than the rules she already knew.
Just then, the double doors creaked open. Her body tensed. She didn't need to look to know it was him. The weight of his presence filled the room long before he said a word.
"You're still here." His voice was calm, almost amused.
"I live here," Aria replied without turning.
"For now." His steps were slow and deliberate. She felt him closing in behind her. "You don't sleep in your room."
"You watch me sleep?"
"No. But I watch everything else." He paused behind her, close enough to breathe her in. "You stand by this window every morning. Same hour. Same posture. Like you're waiting for something... or someone."
Aria turned. "Are you always this controlling?"
Damien smiled, and it terrified her how beautiful he looked when he wasn't trying to hide the danger in his charm.
"Only when I want to protect what I own."
Her throat clenched. "I'm not your property."
"You signed a contract."
"That doesn't make me yours."
Damien stepped even closer. "Rule Number Three," he whispered, his voice like a caress of ice, "is simple. "Don't fall in love with me."
Her heart skipped.
Was he serious? Was this narcissism or self-preservation?
He saw the questions in her eyes and gave a small, almost sad smile.
"You'll think you can handle it. That you're different. But love... that's the most dangerous thing in this world. It makes people brave, reckless-stupid."
"I'm not in danger of loving you," she said too quickly.
"Good," he said. "Because I don't return affection. I return investment."
Silence fell like a trapdoor.
She stepped back from him, her breathing uneven. But he didn't chase her. He turned and walked away, his tailored suit catching the light as he disappeared into the hall like a shadow slipping out of reach.
But his words lingered.
"Don't fall in love with me."
And for the first time since this strange arrangement began, Aria didn't fear the contract.
She feared herself.
Because as much as she wanted to hate him, part of her heart had already started listening when he spoke.
And this is Rule Number Three's cruelest twist.