"He was ice, but something inside her still wanted to melt him."
The guest room at the Davis estate was three times bigger than her old bedroom. High ceilings stretched above her, adorned with a delicate crystal chandelier that cast patterns across the walls. Silk curtains moved softly in the breeze from the ocean-view balcony, brushing against the marble floor like whispers in a church.
It was beautiful.
It was lonely.
Sophia sat on the edge of the bed in her nightgown—thin, white, soft—and stared at the empty spot across the room where her suitcase had been placed. She hadn't unpacked. She couldn't. Unzipping those bags would mean she was staying. And despite the contract, despite the ring that now sat heavy on her finger, a part of her still refused to believe this was her life now.
She wasn't Sophia Rodriguez anymore.
She was Mrs. Mason Davis.
And she was more alone now than she had ever been.
She wrapped her arms around herself, curling forward. Her chest felt too tight. Her eyes burned. And her heart… oh, her heart was a mess of past love and present fear.
Lucas.
She hadn't heard from him. Not a single call. Not a message.
How could he leave her like this? How could he flee and pretend none of it mattered? They had whispered dreams to each other, made love under stars, talked about names for their future children. And now, all she had of him was the life growing inside her—and a marriage contract to his brother.
A knock at the door made her jump.
Her heart skipped a beat.
She stood up quickly, brushing her hair back, pulling the silk robe tighter over her nightgown.
"Come in," she said, her voice unsure.
The door opened—and Mason stood there.
Still in his suit. Still perfect. Still terrifyingly unreadable.
Her breath caught.
"I didn't expect you," she said quietly.
"I pay for everything in this house," Mason answered, stepping inside. "Expect me whenever I decide."
Her spine stiffened at the coldness of his tone, but she held his stare. "Are you here to inspect your investment?"
A spark of amusement touched his lips—barely there. "Not tonight."
"Then why are you here?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he walked past her, his eyes grazing over the room—the untouched suitcase, the closed closet, the perfectly made bed.
"You haven't unpacked."
"I didn't know if I should."
"You signed the contract. You're staying."
Sophia moved toward the window, unable to look at him any longer. "This doesn't feel real."
"It is."
She turned around, folding her arms. "And what exactly is real here, Mason? The marriage? The lie we're selling your family? The fact that I'm carrying a child that isn't yours?"
He didn't move.
"I'm not interested in emotional clarity, Sophia. I'm interested in success. This is a partnership. You play your part, and I'll play mine."
"A partnership?" she echoed angrily. "I didn't know partners ignored each other unless absolutely necessary."
"You think this is about feelings?" His voice dipped low, hard. "You want affection? Romance? You should've kept chasing Lucas."
The slap of his words landed heavy in her chest.
Her eyes stung, but she refused to let the tears fall.
"He left me," she whispered.
Mason's gaze sharpened.
"He walked away without a word. And I—" She looked at him, her voice breaking. "I was scared. I am scared. I didn't choose you because I wanted to—I chose you because there was no one else."
"And I didn't choose you at all," Mason snapped, moving closer.
Her breath hitched as he came within inches of her, his cologne and quiet anger surrounding her like a storm.
"You think you're the only one forced into this?" he asked, his tone cutting. "You think I wanted this circus? My mother is already looking for blood, and the board barely trusts me as it is. You're not the only one risking your future here, Sophia."
His words hit her like a whip.
Then silence.
A long, drawn-out moment where their pain hung in the air between them—too raw, too loud.
And then, something unexpected happened.
Mason sighed and stepped back.
The mask slipped—just for a moment.
"I didn't come here to fight," he said quietly. "I came to give you this."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
She frowned, pausing before taking it.
Inside was a necklace. Delicate. Platinum. With a single perfect teardrop diamond.
"It's a Davis heirloom," he said. "My grandmother's. My mother expects to see you wear it at the engagement brunch tomorrow."
Sophia stared at it.
"It's beautiful," she whispered.
"It's valuable," Mason corrected.
"Why are you giving it to me?"
"Because appearances matter. And because people will ask how I proposed. You need to have something to show them."
She bit her lip.
"You didn't really propose," she said.
"I'm not the type to get on one knee."
She looked up at him. "No, you're the type to kneel for no one."
Their eyes locked—and for the first time, there was no fire. No anger.
Just... understanding.
For a heartbeat, they weren't foes.
They were two people caught in a storm neither of them caused.
Sophia reached for the necklace, her fingers touching his. A jolt of something—unspoken and electric—passed between them.
Mason didn't move.
Neither did she.
And then, as if understanding the weight of the moment, he stepped back.
"You'll wear it tomorrow," he said. "Don't lose it."
"I won't."
He walked toward the door.
Just before leaving, he paused—his back still to her.
"If you ever need anything…" His voice was quieter now, almost unsure. "You tell me. Not Lucas. Me."
Sophia stared at him, her chest tight.
"Mason."
He turned slightly, his face catching the golden hallway light.
"Do you hate me?" she asked. The words slipped out before she could stop them.
His pause was long. Too long.
"No," he said at last. "But I don't trust you."
Then he was gone.
And Sophia was left with a necklace, a storm of feelings, and a heart that didn't know who it was aching for anymore.
She sat on the bed, the cold silk of the sheets wrapping around her like quiet.
But somewhere inside her…
A strange flutter started.
Not love.
Not yet.
But something else.
Something dangerous.