Once His Contract Bride, Now His Hired Nanny

CHAPTER 4: A Wife in Name Only

“House rules,” Matteo said that evening, leaning against the edge of his desk like a judge passing sentence.

Elena stood in front of him in the same office where she’d first met him, though the time of day changed the light. Sunset painted the room in warmer tones, bleeding orange into the blue of the sea.

She’d changed into something Rosa had picked from the wardrobe that had magically appeared in her room: soft black pants, a silk blouse. Everything fit as if someone had measured her in her sleep.

“House rules,” Elena echoed, crossing her arms. “Is there a manual I should sign too?”

His gaze flicked to her crossed arms, amusement glinting briefly. “Consider this the verbal section.”

He held up one finger.

“First. Security. You do not leave the house without a car and a guard. Ever. If you want to go somewhere, you ask. If I’m unavailable, you ask Rosa or Donatella. No solo trips. No unplanned errands.”

Her brows shot up. “So I’m grounded, basically.”

“Grounded people don’t get shot,” he said. “Call it what you like.”

“Can I at least go to the garden without a security escort?” she countered. “Or is the grass dangerous too?”

His mouth twitched. “Stay within the gates, and you may roam as you like. Step outside, and someone follows. Non-negotiable.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

“Second.” A second finger. “Staff. They answer to me, but they will answer to you in the household. If you treat them with respect, they will move mountains. If you don’t, they will make your life very uncomfortable in small ways.”

“I’m not going to start throwing plates at them,” she said. “I was raised properly.”

“Good,” he said. “Third. Family.”

The word made her shoulders tense.

“You will meet my sister,” he said. “Donatella. She lives in the east wing when she is in town. She will be polite. She will also test you. Don’t trust everything she says. Don’t ignore it either.”

“That’s not cryptic at all,” Elena muttered.

“She’s loyal to me,” Matteo continued, ignoring the comment. “Which means she will measure how you fit into that loyalty. She’s clever, and she has sharp teeth. Try not to bleed too much.”

“Great. I love meeting people with sharp teeth,” Elena said. “Anyone else?”

“A handful of family members, depending on who is in the city. Some are allies. Some are tolerated. I will make it clear who is who when they appear.” He paused. “When we are in public, you are my wife. That means you will be attentive, pleasant, and, when necessary, silent.”

Her hackles rose. “I’ve never been very good at ‘silent.’”

His eyes met hers. “I noticed.”

She held his gaze instead of shrinking back.

“What happens if I embarrass you?” she asked. “Return policy?”

His voice cooled. “Don’t.”

It wasn’t a threat shouted. It was a quiet warning that hummed with potential violence—not toward her, but toward whoever might try to use her as a tool.

She believed him.

“And what about…” She swallowed, shifting her weight. “Us.”

“Us,” he repeated.

“Yes. You know. Husband and wife. Domestic arrangements.” Her hand fluttered between them, helplessly conveying all the things they hadn’t discussed.

His gaze dipped to the small gold chain around her neck, then back up.

“You’ll stay in your room,” he said. “I’ll stay in mine. We share a house and a name. Anything else will be up to you.”

“So I have to knock on your door if I suddenly decide I’d like to…” She waved her hand again, mortified. “Share a blanket?”

One dark brow rose. “Do you suddenly decide things like that often, Elena?”

She flushed. “That’s not the point.”

“The point,” he said evenly, “is that I won’t force you into my bed. I won’t drag you, won’t demand anything you’re unwilling to give. If that changes, you’ll make the first step. Understood?”

She hadn’t expected that.

In her worst fears, she’d imagined being summoned like an object, used and dismissed. The idea that the choice would be hers stole some of the air from her lungs.

“Understood,” she said quietly, a strange mixture of relief and confusion twisting in her chest.

“Any rules for me?” he asked suddenly.

The question startled her. “For… you?”

“Yes. Your conditions.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s easier to manage resentment when it’s defined.”

She chewed her lip, considering.

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” she said finally. “You can make all the decisions you want about your empire or whatever this is.

But if it concerns my life, my body, my future—you tell me. You don’t decide everything in some cigar-smoke-filled room and then send me a memo.”

“Done,” he said without hesitation.

“And no shouting,” she added. “If you want to argue, we argue. But don’t yell at me like I’m some street kid you caught stealing.”

He gave her a long look.

“I don’t raise my voice often,” he said. “When I do, it’s to be heard over gunfire.”

“Well, let’s hope we don’t have gunfire in the living room,” she said.

His mouth curved, just for a second. “We try to keep it outdoors.”

Despite herself, a small laugh escaped her. It sounded foreign in the room, but not unwelcome.

He straightened.

“Dinner is at eight,” he said. “Rosa will show you the dining room. Donatella may or may not show up. If she does, she’ll be late.”

“You sound fond of her,” Elena observed.

“I sound experienced,” he replied. “One last thing.”

She waited.

“If you ever feel unsafe in this house,” he said, his voice dropping lower, “you tell me. Immediately. No matter the time. No matter who it is. Understood?”

Something in the way he said it prickled the back of her neck.

“Do you expect me to feel unsafe?” she asked carefully.

“I expect you to feel out of place,” he said. “Unsafe is different. It’s my job to keep that from happening. Help me do it.”

It was the closest thing to a promise she’d heard from him.

“I will,” she said.

“Good. Now go. Learn the layout. It makes it harder to trap someone who knows the exits.”

“Comforting, as usual,” she murmured, turning to go.

“Elena.”

She glanced back.

“Welcome home,” he said.

The words should have felt like a lie. Strangely, they felt like a challenge.

Dinner that night was quiet.

Rosa had set the table for four, but only two chairs were occupied. Matteo at the head; Elena at his right. The rest remained empty, their polished surfaces gleaming under the chandelier.

“You’re really not inviting your family to meet your new wife?” she asked over roasted chicken and vegetables far fancier than anything she’d cooked in her old kitchen.

“They travel,” he said. “They’ll appear when they appear.”

“How… poetic.”

He arched a brow. “Would you like a crowd asking you personal questions on your first night here?”

The image made her cringe. “On second thought, this is fine.”

“Exactly.”

Despite the lavish setting, the conversation stayed… oddly ordinary. He asked about her teaching job. She told him about her students and their constant war against multiplication tables. He listened, really listened, in a way that made her words feel heavier.

He told her nothing about his own work, beyond bland phrases like “business” and “meetings.”

They finished dessert in an easy silence that surprised her.

As she stood to go, he said, “Elena.”

She paused.

“If you need anything,” he said, “Rosa knows how to find me.”

“You mean if I suddenly decide I want to argue about bed arrangements?” she asked lightly, testing the waters of what was allowed.

His eyes darkened, but his tone stayed mild. “I doubt you’re that impulsive.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I’m counting on it,” he said.

She went to bed with too many thoughts in her head and the sound of the sea crashing against the cliffs like a heartbeat she wasn’t sure belonged to her.