Signed to the Devil

Chapter 4: The Rules of Our Marriage

Elara barely remembered the ride back to the penthouse. The glittering city blurred outside the tinted windows, and inside the car, silence pressed down like velvet weighted with secrets.

She sat motionless, her fingers twisted together tightly in her lap. She could still feel Ares’s hand at her waist — the steel of his grip, the way he had pulled her close, claimed her, shielded her from a woman who had been born to destroy.

He had defended her.

Not for love.

Not for kindness.

But because she was his.

The thought should have comforted her.

Instead, it hollowed her out.

She was still shaking when the elevator opened into the penthouse. Everything looked the same — flawless marble floors, minimalist art, panoramic views of the sleeping city — but it felt different.

Tonight, the air inside this high-rise tomb was sharper. Edged.

As the doors closed behind them, Ares walked ahead of her without a word. He peeled off his jacket, tossed it across a leather chair, and loosened the first button of his collar — all with that effortless grace that never seemed to c***k.

Elara stood frozen near the windows.

Her heels clicked softly as she walked toward the glass, watching the night sky blink over the city. Somewhere down there, a thousand people were falling in love.

And she was trapped in a marriage built on ice.

“I said smile,” Ares’s voice came from behind her, flat and sharp. “Not invite a scandal.”

Elara turned slowly.

“You made a scene,” he added, pouring a glass of amber liquid at the bar. “You hesitated.”

“I was insulted,” she said softly.

“You’re in high society now,” he replied, swirling the whiskey before sipping. “You’ll be insulted every week.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “And what, exactly, do you expect me to do? Laugh when they call me a charity case?”

“I expect you to act like a Blackwood,” he said, his tone hardening. “You’ll rise above it. You’ll own it. You’ll wear their cruelty like armor.”

Elara’s mouth opened. Then closed. Her chest ached with the weight of everything she wanted to say.

She was tired of being told what to be.

She wasn’t made of steel. She wasn’t polished marble.

She was human.

She had scars.

“You didn’t marry a statue,” she snapped, her voice cracking despite herself.

Ares’s eyes narrowed.

“No,” he said quietly, walking toward her until he towered just inches away. “I married a woman smart enough to know what was at stake.”

She swallowed hard.

“I don’t need you to fall in love with me, Elara,” he said next, the words as sharp as knives dipped in silk. “In fact, I forbid it.”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

Ares’s expression didn’t change.

“Love complicates things,” he said simply. “This marriage exists to protect your name. My company. Our families. Nothing more.”

Her heart twisted painfully in her chest.

“Then why marry me at all?” she whispered.

Something flickered in his eyes. Brief. Almost… broken. But it vanished before she could name it.

“Because convenience is cleaner than chaos,” he said coldly. “And because you, of all people, have something no one else does.”

She frowned. “What?”

He stepped closer, the scent of him wrapping around her like smoke and danger.

“Obedience,” he murmured. “And desperation.”

The words hit her like a slap.

She stepped back as if struck, the sting of humiliation burning her skin.

“I’m not your pet,” she hissed.

Ares didn’t flinch. He didn’t even raise his voice.

“No,” he said calmly. “You’re my wife.”

He turned his back to her and walked toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

Elara stood there, chest heaving, her hands trembling with fury.

Then, as if he remembered something, he stopped.

“New rules,” he said, not turning around.

Her stomach clenched.

“Rule one: Appearances must be perfect. We are the model couple in public.”

“Rule two: No emotional entanglements. You are not to fall for me.”

His voice turned low.

“And rule three…”

He turned then, his eyes locking on hers with terrifying stillness.

“You will not embarrass me. Ever.”

Her mouth opened — to argue, to scream — but he was already walking away.

His footsteps faded.

The silence he left behind was heavier than any shout.

Elara turned slowly to the window.

Outside, the city glittered like diamonds scattered across darkness.

And here she was — married to the most powerful man in the city.

And completely alone.

⸻

She didn’t sleep.

Instead, she lay awake in the unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling while memories flickered like broken film reels.

Her parents’ bakery.

Her grandfather’s coughing fits.

The foreclosure notice.

Her signature on the contract.

Ares’s voice telling her love was forbidden.

Don’t fall in love.

As if love was something that could be shut off like a switch.

As if her heart could obey rules written in ink.

You’re not as fragile as you look, he had once said.

And maybe he was right.

Maybe fragility was a luxury she could no longer afford.

So she turned her pain into silence. Her silence into resolve.

And by the time the sun began to rise over the tower, painting the sky in streaks of gold and ash, Elara had made a new rule for herself.

She would not break.

And she would not fall.

Not for Ares Blackwood.

Not for anyone.

⸻