The man I'm trapped with
1173 Words
Erica
The car door shuts.
Not gently.
Not angrily either.
Just final.
I didn't look at Adrian right away. The city lights smear across the tinted windows as the driver pulls away from the house that just sold me. My fingers are numb. My chest feels hollow, like something vital was removed without anesthesia.
“You can breathe,” Adrian says quietly.
I laughed . It sounds wrong in my own ears. “That’s rich advice from the man who just agreed to cage me.”
He doesn’t flinch. “I didn’t cage you.”
“You signed the lock,” I snapped, finally turning to him. “Don’t pretend you’re innocent.”
His jaw tightens. He looks straight ahead, hands folded loosely in his lap like this is just another meeting he has to survive.
“Innocent isn’t an option for either of us,” he says.
That makes my anger sharper. “Then enlighten me. Why me? Out of every woman with a last name and a price tag, why did they choose me?”
Silence stretches.
I lean closer. “Say it.”
He exhales slowly. “Because you’re expendable.”
The word hits harder than I expected.
“Excuse me?”
"What do you mean?"
“They needed someone without leverage,” he continues calmly, like he’s discussing market risks. “No political alliances. No powerful spouse already promised. Someone they could pressure.”
“So I was convenient,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
I swallow. My throat burns. “And you? Were you convenient too?”
His mouth curves not a smile. Something darker. “I was necessary.”
The car stops at a red light. The city keeps breathing around us, completely unaware that my life just ended quietly in the backseat of a luxury vehicle.
“You said there were things in the contract they didn’t show me,”
"What was it"?
say it . “Start talking.”
Adrian’s eyes flick to the driver, then back to me. “Not here.”
“Here is perfect,” I hiss. “You don’t get privacy. You forfeited that when you agreed to own me.”
His voice drops. “Careful.”
“Or what?”
I challenged. “You’ll tell your parents I’m defective and they’ll tighten the leash?”
Hmm"
His eyes flash. “You think I want this?”
“I don’t care what you want,” I said. “all I care about is what you’re hiding.”
The light turns green. The car moves again.
"I promise".
“We’ll talk at the house,” he says. “Where it’s safe.”
I laughed bitterly. “Nothing about you feels safe.”
He meets my gaze fully now, and something raw breaks through his control. “Then imagine how it feels to be me.”
The car pulls through iron gates. Cameras track our arrival. The house rises ahead too large, too perfect, too prepared to swallow me whole.
The driver opens my door.
I didn't move.
Adrian leans closer. “You don’t have to pretend tonight.”
“Oh, I do,” I whispered . “That’s the only thing I’m good for now.”
Inside, the house is silent. Too silent. Every step echoes like it’s being recorded which it probably is.
I stop in the foyer. “So what happens now? Do we rehearse our love story? Pick pet names?”
“No,”
Adrian says. “We set boundaries.”
I turn sharply. “You don’t get to set anything.”
“You’re wrong,” he says eventually. “If this is going to work, we both do.”
Hmm", I see;
I cross my arms. “Fine. Boundary one: don’t touch me.”
His answer is immediate. “Agreed.”
That surprises me.
“Boundary two,” I added . “No lying to my face.”
He hesitates.
I step back. “There it is.”
“I won’t lie,” he says carefully. “But I won’t tell you everything.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No,” he says. “It’s worse.”
My stomach tightens. “What did they bury, Adrian?”
He walks past me, loosens his tie, then turns back. “A death.”
The word drops between us like shattered glass.
“What?” My voice comes out thin.
“An accident,” he added. “Covered up. Rewritten. Forgotten.”
My heart starts pounding. “Who died?”
He didn't answer.
“Say the name,” I demanded.
His eyes darken. “That’s one of the things you’re not allowed to know.”
Rage surges. “You don’t get to decide what I’m allowed to.....
“Erica.”
He says my name like a warning. “Knowing it could destroy you.”
I laughed again, breathless. “You already did.”
He steps closer, lowering his voice. “This marriage isn’t to protect the families.”
I freeze. “Then what is it for?”
“To protect you.”
The floor felt unstable beneath my feet. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“It will,” he says quietly. “When you understand what they think you are.”
My skin prickles. “What they think I am?”
A beat.
“A liability.”
The word slices deeper than expendable ever did.
“So I’m a problem to be contained,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“And you?” I asked . “What are you?”
His mouth tightens. “Your warden.”
Something inside me snaps.
I step into his space. “Listen to me very carefully. You don’t get my obedience. You don’t get my silence. And you don’t get to decide what I deserve to know.”
His voice lowers dangerously. “Then stop digging.”
“Or what?”
He leans in, close enough that I can feel the heat of him, smell the faint trace of whiskey and restraint.
“Or you’ll uncover a truth,” he says, “that makes this marriage the least cruel thing they’ve done to you.”
My breath catches.
“Why are you telling me this?” I whispered.
His eyes soften for just a second. “Because I need you to survive me hating myself.”
Before I can respond, a soft mechanical click echoes through the hall.
Adrian stiffens.
“What was that?” I asked.
His gaze lifts upward.
“Cameras,” he says. “They’ve gone live.”
My blood runs cold.
He straightens instantly, slipping the mask back on like armor.
He offers his arm.
“For tonight,” he murmurs, loud enough for unseen ears, “my wife.”
I stare at his hand.
At the future it represents.
At the lie I just married into.
And as I take it, he whispers“They’re listening now. Smile.”
And I realized with terrifying clarity, That the marriage didn’t start with vows.
It started with surveillance.
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