Chapter 7: ”The Rules Of Our Marriage“
1008 Words
Ariana stared at her signature.
For a moment, she couldn’t believe what she’d done.
One signature.
That was all it had taken to change the direction of her entire life.
She slowly pushed the contract toward Damien.
“I signed it.”
Damien looked down at the paper.
Then at her.
“I know.”
She frowned. “You didn’t even read it.”
“I watched you sign it.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
A faint amusement crossed his face.
“I trust your signature.”
Ariana almost rolled her eyes.
“That’s a strange thing to say to someone you barely know.”
“Perhaps.”
He picked up the contract and closed the folder.
“Your wedding will be tomorrow.”
Her eyes widened.
“Tomorrow?”
“You want to save your family, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then we don’t have time to waste.”
Ariana stood.
“Damien, I’m not some business deal you can close overnight.”
His expression changed.
“I know.”
His voice was quieter now.
“That’s exactly why I’m giving you a choice.”
She stared at him.
“If you want to walk away, do it now.”
Ariana looked toward the window.
Outside, rain covered the glass in silver trails.
Her father’s face flashed through her mind.
The hospital.
The bills.
Their home.
Everything she’d spent her life protecting was slipping away.
She turned back to Damien.
“I’ll do it.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“Then tomorrow, you become my wife.”
⸻
The next morning, Ariana woke before sunrise.
A white dress waited on the chair beside her bed.
Not the extravagant wedding gown she’d worn the day before.
This one was simple.
Elegant.
Almost too beautiful for a marriage that wasn’t supposed to mean anything.
A small note rested on top.
Wear this.
No signature.
She knew who had written it.
Ariana touched the fabric.
“Bossy billionaire.”
A knock sounded.
Edwin entered.
“Miss Brooks, Mr. Moretti is waiting downstairs.”
She sighed.
“Of course he is.”
⸻
Damien stood in the entrance hall wearing a perfectly tailored black suit.
When Ariana descended the staircase, he looked up.
For several seconds…
He said nothing.
His eyes moved slowly over her before returning to her face.
Ariana suddenly felt self-conscious.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m aware.”
Her cheeks warmed.
“Well, stop.”
He looked away.
“Come.”
She followed him toward the waiting car.
As she passed him, Damien quietly said,
“You look beautiful.”
Ariana stopped.
She hadn’t expected that.
She turned around.
“Was that a compliment?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
She smiled despite herself.
“Too late.”
For the first time that morning, Damien almost smiled.
⸻
The ceremony was small.
No reporters.
No extravagant guests.
Only a lawyer, two witnesses, and a handful of people Damien trusted.
Ariana stood beside him, staring at the marriage certificate.
The words seemed unreal.
Husband.
Wife.
She glanced at Damien.
He was staring straight ahead.
“You don’t look nervous,” she whispered.
“I’m not.”
“Of course you’re not.”
His eyes moved toward her.
“Are you?”
“A little.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m marrying a stranger.”
He leaned closer.
His voice dropped.
“Then get to know me.”
Before she could respond, the officiant spoke.
“Do you, Damien Moretti, take Ariana Brooks to be your legally wedded wife?”
Damien looked at Ariana.
Something unreadable passed through his eyes.
“I do.”
Her heart skipped.
Then came her turn.
“Ariana Brooks, do you take Damien Moretti to be your legally wedded husband?”
She looked into his steel-gray eyes.
Five years ago, she had walked away from a bleeding stranger in a warehouse.
Today…
She was marrying the man who claimed to know everything about that night.
“I do.”
The rings were exchanged.
The marriage was official.
Everyone applauded.
But Damien didn’t look at anyone else.
He looked only at her.
And Ariana couldn’t shake the strange feeling that this wasn’t the beginning of their story.
It was the continuation of something that had started five years ago.
⸻
That evening, they returned to the mansion.
Ariana expected Damien to give her some speech about their new arrangement.
Instead, he handed her a key.
She looked at it.
“What’s this?”
“Your room.”
“I already have a room.”
“Not anymore.”
She looked toward the staircase.
“Where?”
“The room next to mine.”
Her eyebrows shot up.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s closer to the security system.”
“I’ll survive.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Damien’s expression became serious.
“Because whoever sent that message knows you’re here.”
Ariana’s smile disappeared.
He stepped closer.
“From tonight onward, you follow three rules.”
She crossed her arms.
“I’m listening.”
“First, never leave the estate without telling security.”
“Fine.”
“Second, if you receive a message from an unknown number, you show it to me.”
“Fine.”
“Third…”
He paused.
Ariana waited.
“Never open the door to the west wing.”
She frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
“No.”
He turned away.
“It’s a warning.”
Ariana watched him walk toward the staircase.
“Damien.”
He stopped.
“What exactly is in the west wing?”
He didn’t turn around.
“Something from my past.”
Then he disappeared upstairs.
Ariana stood alone in the hallway.
Her eyes drifted toward the dark corridor leading to the west wing.
A locked door waited at the end.
And suddenly…
She wanted to know what was behind it more than anything.
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