Clause Five: Fidelity Clause (Revised)
Both Parties shall present the appearance of marital fidelity. Private arrangements, if any, shall not interfere with public perception. Gestures of affection, whether verbal or physical, may be enacted at either Party's discretion to preserve the image of unity. Should any such gestures transcend performance and acquire sincerity, it shall not be considered a breach of contract but an incidental consequence of proximity.
Morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows of Syrena's bedroom, removing traces of last night and its encounter. Syrena stirred awake, listening to the melody of the birds that were singing outside her window sill as the gentle breeze blew in and ruffled the velvet curtains that hung.
She sat up slowly in bed as memories of the previous night returned to her in flashes. His voice, the weight of his gaze, the feel of his lips on hers and her hand drifted unconsciously to her mouth as she exhaled with a shaky laugh of disbelief. Last night felt like a dream, completely unreal.
A knock sounded at her door.
She opened it and a maid stood waiting with a silver tray piled high with freshly baked bread, butter, jam and a bowl of peaches and berries with a glass of orange juice.
"Good morning, Mrs. Graves. Mr. Graves asked that breakfast be brought to your room."
Syrena blinked, taken aback. "He did?"
"Yes, ma'am. He said you've earned a quiet morning."
The words warmed something in her she hadn't expected. She thanked the maid and carried the tray inside. On it, she saw a note.
She hesitated before opening it. The handwriting was precise, measured.
Rest today — you've already done more than I expected.— A.G.
Syrena read the line twice. It wasn't quite affectionate, but it wasn't cold either.
She smiled faintly and sipped the glass of orange juice. Outside, the gardens shimmered with the morning dew, and the air was fragrant with the scent of roses. As she noticed a fresh bouquet of pink roses in a vase by her dressing table. She felt a little more relaxed.
Later that morning, she found Alexander in the glass house — an unexpected sight, with his sleeves rolled up as he watered the plants himself. The sunlight glanced off his watch, the whole image made her pause at the doorway.
He looked up when he noticed her. "You're awake."
"I was told I'm allowed to rest," she said, smiling.
He gave a quiet huff of amusement. "Consider it my one act of mercy for the week."
"Only one?"
"Maybe two. Depends on how brave you are today."
Something in his tone made her pulse quicken, but she met his gaze evenly. "I plan to be brave enough to ask for something."
He raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. What is it?"
"There's another gala tonight, isn't there?" she began carefully. "At the Montclair estate?"
He nodded. "An important one. You'll need something elegant."
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," she said. "Would it be possible for me to invite a friend over this afternoon? Her name is Elianna Sinclair. I'd like her help choosing what to wear."
Alexander stilled, the watering can lowering slightly. "A visitor."
"More like a best friend," she said softly. "Someone I trust."
He studied her, his gaze unreadable. For a moment, she wondered if she'd overstepped her boundaries, if the request would be met with that cool, distant authority he wore like a second skin. But then, to her surprise, he said, "Very well. Inform the guardhouse. Have her name sent to security for identification."
Relief flickered across her face. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." He turned back to the plants, then added, more lightly, "It'll be interesting to meet someone who knows you so well."
Her lips curved into a smile.
That afternoon, a black sedan rolled through the wrought-iron gates, carrying Elianna Sinclair towards the sweeping front steps of the Graves estate. Syrena waited for her in the grand foyer, her whole countenance aglow with excitement.
Elianna stepped out, her eyes widening as she took in the mansion's sheer scale. "This place looks like it came out of a magazine!"
Syrena laughed, the sound light and unguarded. "Behave. He's in the sitting room."
When they entered, Alexander was standing near the fireplace, reviewing a file. He looked up as they approached, his posture straight but his expression firm.
"Honey," Syrena began, her tone composed yet warm, "this is Elianna Sinclair — my closest friend."
Upon hearing her address him with an endearment, he beamed at her in return.
Elianna extended her hand without hesitation. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Graves. You're exactly as intimidating as Syrena said you'd be."
Syrena froze. "Elianna—"
But Alexander's reaction was not the sharp retort she feared. Instead, he smiled showing all his teeth, the hint of real amusement breaking through his restraint. "Then she's been honest. A promising start."
"Honesty's a habit," Elianna said with a grin. "I can see she's in good hands — at least, ones that know how to write polite breakfast notes."
That made Syrena's cheeks warm. "You told her about that?" he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.
"She didn't need to," Elianna said. "It's written all over her face."
Alexander actually laughed then before gesturing toward the settee. "I'll leave you both to your conspiracies. Try not to bankrupt me on couture."
Syrena rolled her eyes. "No promises."
As he stepped out, Elianna turned to Syrena with a sly smile. "Oh, he's trouble. The kind that knows it."
Syrena exhaled, half amused, half flustered. "Don't start."
But she couldn't stop the small smile that crept onto her lips.
The sitting room became a flurry of fabrics, laughter, and the rustle of silk. Elianna had arrived armed with swatches, sketches, and the kind of energy that brightened even the quiet halls of the Graves estate.
"Stand still, Syrena," she said, pinning a temporary fold near the shoulder of an emerald gown. "You move a lot during fittings."
Syrena laughed softly. "I can't help it — the pins are so prickly."
Elianna rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "You've been living here for weeks and you still don't have a proper wardrobe?"
"She has one," came a voice from the doorway.
They both turned. Alexander stood there, leaning one shoulder against the frame. His expression friendly — as there was unmistakable amusement shining in his eyes.
"She just prefers to have it approved by a professional," he said.
Elianna, unfazed, crossed her arms. "Then consider me hired for the day, Mr. Graves. You can thank me when your wife turns every head at that gala."
He inclined his head slightly. "I have no doubt she will."
His gaze lingered on Syrena longer than necessary — just long enough that Elianna noticed and arched an eyebrow.
Syrena quickly looked back at the mirror, pretending to focus on the gown. "I think this one's too formal," she murmured. "It's… too dark and boring."
Alexander stepped closer, his reflection joining hers in the glass. "It's not too dark and boring," he said quietly. "It's you."
Elianna blinked, caught between awe and disbelief at his tone. "Well, I'll be," she muttered under her breath.
Syrena met his gaze in the mirror, unsure what to say. The world outside the reflection faded — just him, her, and the soft hush of the afternoon light.
Finally, Elianna cleared her throat. "I think we've found our winner."
Alexander stepped back, hands in his pockets. "Anything else she needs, she gets."
Then, to Syrena, with that familiar cool composure returning to his voice, "I'll send for you in half an hour before we leave. Be ready."
When he was gone, Elianna exhaled dramatically. "My God, Syrena. That man doesn't look at people — he studies them. Like he's memorising them."
Syrena turned away from the mirror, her pulse unsteady. "He's… complicated."
"Complicated," Elianna repeated with a knowing smile. "That's one word for it."
Syrena gave a faint laugh and sat down, smoothing her palms over the silk fabric. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," she admitted softly.
Elianna crouched beside her. "What was it supposed to be?"
"A contract," Syrena said. "Simple. Clear. Defined."
Elianna looked at her for a long moment, then smiled gently. "Maybe it still is. You just didn't realise one of the clauses was about falling in love."
Syrena blinked. "That's not in the contract."
Elianna's grin widened. "Maybe it's written between the lines."
Syrena laughed — a real, unguarded sound that filled the quiet room. For a fleeting second, the mansion didn't feel empty and boring, but it came alive with possibilities.
And as the afternoon sun painted the walls outside in gold rays, Syrena couldn't tell anymore where duty ended and desire began.