Alex reached into his desk drawer. He pulled out a second, thinner document. This one wasn't thick with legal jargon or stamped.It was just a single sheet of paper with bullet points.
"Sign this one, too," he said. His voice was flat.Nicole wiped her eyes and leaned forward. "What is this? I already signed the paper for the diamond."
"The first paper was for my lawyers," Alex said, his gray eyes narrowing. "This paper is for me. These are my personal rules. If you break even one of them, the deal is off, and i call the police. Read it."
Nicole picked up the paper. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she read the words. It wasn't about money anymore. It was about her life—down to the way she smelled.
***The Rules of the Mansion:***
* The Schedule: Three nights a week—Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday—the Master will enter your room at 11:00 PM. You will be in bed, waiting.
* The Attitude: There will be no resistance. You will show approval. You will smile. You will act as if you want to be there.
* The Presentation: You will be bathed, your hair will be brushed, and you will wear the silk gowns provided.
* The Scent: The Master hates foul odors. You will use the perfumes provided in your suite. You must smell like jasmine and nothing else.
* The Touch: You are never to touch the Master first. You will wait for him to initiate. If you touch him without permission, the night is over and you will be penalized.
* The Ghost Rule: During the day, you do not exist to the Master. You are not to cook for him. You are not to bring him coffee. He has world-class chefs for that. You stay out of his sight.
* The Check-Up: You are free to leave the house during the day, but you must be back by 6:00 PM. Every time you return, you will undergo a security and health check-up by the house staff.
Nicole's stomach turned as she finished the last line. It was humiliating. He was treating her like a doll—or worse, like a piece of equipment that needed to be cleaned and put away after use.
"You want me to... smile?" Nicole whispered, looking up at him. "How can I smile when you're forcing me into this?"
Alex stood up, his tall frame looming over the desk. He walked around until he was standing right in front of her. The smell of his expensive cologne—something woodsy and sharp—filled her nose. It was a good smell, but right now, it made her feel sick.
"I don't like long faces, Nicole," he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. "I'm paying ninety-nine million dollars for your time. The least you can do is make the experience pleasant. I don't want to look at a crying lady every time I enter the room."
"But the touch rule..." Nicole stammered. "Why can't I touch you?"
Alex let out a short, cold laugh. He reached out and grabbed a lock of her hair, tugging it just enough to make her look at him. "Because you are a pauper. You are here for one reason: to give me an heir. I don't want your affection. I don't want your hands wandering over me as if we are in love. We are not in love. This is a job. You are a vessel. Treat yourself like one."
He let go of her hair as if he had touched something dirty. He pushed the pen toward her again.
"The scent rule is non-negotiable," he added, looking her up and down with disgust. "You smell like cheap soap and the London underground. From the moment you step into my house, you will smell like someone who belongs there. Do you understand?"
Nicole felt a hot blush of shame creep up her neck. She looked at Mara, but her friend was being held by the guards near the door, unable to help. Nicole looked back at the paper. Three nights a week. No resistance. Be a ghost.
She realized then that Alex Sterling didn't just want her to pay for the diamond. He wanted to crush her spirit. He wanted to make sure she knew exactly how low she was compared to him. He was a king, and she was just a mistake he was fixing with money.
"What if I can't do it?" she asked softly. "What if I can't pretend to be happy?"
Alex leaned down, his face inches from hers. She could see the flecks of silver in his icy eyes. "Then you go to a place where nobody smiles.Is that what you want? Or can you manage to put on a little show for me three nights a week?"
Nicole's hand shook so much she had to grip the desk to steady herself.
One year isn't it?
She looked at the diamond fragments on the floor—the shards of the stone that had ruined her life. She had no choice. Her signature looked jagged and ugly compared to the first one. When she finished, Alex snatched the paper away immediately. He glanced at it, satisfied, and tucked it into his pocket.
"Good," he said. He looked over at the manager. "Get her out of here. Send the car to her place in an hour. Tell Mrs. Gable to prepare the Jasmine suite. And tell the chef she is not to enter the kitchen and they should prepare something for her.
Alex turned his back on her, walking back to his window to look out at the city he owned. He didn't even say goodbye. To him, she was already gone—just another piece of furniture being moved into his house.
The security guards moved in. They didn't have to touch her this time; Nicole stood up on her own. Her legs felt like jelly, but she forced herself to walk. Mara was sobbing as the guards led them toward the back exit, away from the glittering showroom where it had all started.
As they reached the door, Nicole looked back one last time. Alex was standing there, dark and silent against the glass. He looked powerful, rich, and completely alone. For a second, Nicole felt a flicker of something other than fear. She felt a deep, cold shiver.
She was going to his house. She was going to smell like his flowers and sleep in his bed. But as she stepped out into the cold London rain, a terrifying thought hit her.
He had told her she could go anywhere during the day as long as she was back by six. But as the black car pulled up to the curb to take her away, Nicole realized she didn't know the most important thing.
"Wait," she whispered to the guard. "Where is the house? How far is it?"
The guard didn't answer. He just opened the door.
Nicole got in, the leather seat cold against her skin. As the car pulled away, she looked at the second contract in her mind. Three nights a week. Tonight was Tuesday.
The realization hit her like a physical blow. It was already 8:00 PM. In three hours, the first night of the contract would begin. And she didn't even have the jasmine perfume yet.