Chapter 4: Bound by fire and ice
1326 Words
The drive to Elian De Luca’s estate was nothing short of surreal.
Ariella sat in silence, fingers nervously interlocked, as the sleek black Bentley hummed down a private highway guarded by tall pines and sleek surveillance posts. The city had disappeared long ago, replaced by a remote world where billionaires played gods, and no one could touch them.
She wasn’t sure which terrified her more—the silence between them or the way Elian looked utterly unaffected by it.
He hadn’t spoken since they left the restaurant. His eyes remained on the road, cold and unreadable. But his presence was suffocating in its intensity. It wrapped around her like a storm cloud, heavy with the promise of something dangerous and inevitable.
“You can still walk away,” he said suddenly, voice low and measured.
Ariella turned toward him, startled. “What?”
“This contract. This arrangement. It’s not too late to back out.”
She frowned. “Now you tell me? After parading me in front of a room full of power-hungry men and making your terms sound like salvation?”
Elian glanced sideways, expression impassive. “No one forced you to say yes.”
She huffed. “Right. Just waved a lifeline in my face when I was drowning.”
Silence again. But it wasn’t the heavy kind this time. It was... thought-filled.
Finally, Elian said, “I just wanted you to know. I don’t trap people, Ariella. I make deals. Fair ones.”
She studied him for a long beat. “Then why does this still feel like a trap?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, the iron gates to his estate swung open automatically as the car approached. Ariella’s jaw slackened. She’d imagined he was rich, yes, but this was something out of a dream or nightmare.
Elian’s mansion wasn’t just a home. It was a fortress of power and mystery. The building rose in clean marble tiers, glass walls reflecting the setting sun, fountains on either side erupting like synchronized dancers. Trees trimmed with clinical precision lined the driveway. Spotless. Soulless. Perfect.
Much like the man beside her.
The car stopped.
Elian opened his door first and came around to hers, offering his hand. She hesitated but eventually took it, surprised by the warmth of his touch.
“Welcome to your new home,” he said, leading her up the marble steps.
The grand foyer was cathedral-like, with towering ceilings and walls painted in cream and ash. A massive chandelier hung like a frozen constellation overhead, and the floor gleamed so brightly she could see her own hesitation reflected in it.
“Please,” he said, waving his hand toward the interior. “You’ll be living here for a year. Familiarize yourself.”
She stepped inside, the air oddly sterile, like it hadn’t been touched by emotion in years. As if the house, like its owner, had no place for vulnerability.
A woman in her early sixties appeared from a hallway, poised and elegant in a gray uniform. “Mr. De Luca,” she said with a small bow.
“Eliza, this is Ariella,” Elian said. “She’ll be staying in the east wing. She’s free to go anywhere except my study and the secured vault wing. Please make sure she’s comfortable.”
Eliza gave a respectful nod and turned to Ariella. “If you’ll follow me, miss.”
Elian didn’t say another word. He walked past both of them, heading down a hallway and vanishing like a shadow.
And just like that, she was in the belly of the beast.
The East Wing
Ariella’s new room, or rather, apartment, was larger than her entire childhood home. It had a sitting area, a private terrace, a four-poster bed dressed in Egyptian cotton, a walk-in closet filled with designer clothes in her exact size, and a marble bathroom that could rival a spa.
It was beautiful. Immaculate. And utterly alien.
She sat on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands.
What had she done?
What kind of woman signs a contract to become someone’s temporary wife?
Even if that man was Elian De Luca.
No. Especially because he was Elian De Luca.
But even as she sat there questioning everything, a strange voice whispered in her mind: You didn’t have a choice.
After being publicly humiliated, disowned by her father for bringing “shame” to the family name, and blackballed from every job interview due to the scandal... this was the only rope left hanging for her to grab.
She had grabbed it. And now she was here.
Later That Night
The grand dining hall was quiet except for the soft clinking of silverware. Elian sat across from her at the massive table, looking like a man carved from stone. He hadn’t said more than five words since they sat down.
Ariella tried to eat, but the silence grated on her nerves.
“Do you always eat like this?” she asked finally, poking at her roasted duck.
Elian raised a brow. “Like what?”
“Like we’re two strangers forced to share oxygen.”
He set down his glass. “We are strangers.”
She stared at him. “Then why marry one?”
He gave a cool smile. “Because love makes people weak. Contracts make them predictable.”
“Wow,” she muttered. “Do you ever say anything that doesn’t sound like it was lifted from a Bond villain monologue?”
He laughed an actual laugh. Low and unexpected.
Ariella blinked, stunned. “Did I just hear emotion from the great Elian De Luca?”
He leaned forward. “You’re not what I expected.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What did you expect?”
“A sobbing mess. A gold digger. A desperate woman willing to give up everything for comfort.”
“I didn’t give up everything,” she said quietly. “I had everything taken from me.”
His face changed slightly. Not pity but something closer to... understanding.
For a brief second, the ice cracked.
But then it returned.
“Eliza will bring the contract tomorrow morning,” he said, wiping his mouth. “You’ll sign in front of my attorney. I’ll arrange for your new identity and background just in case people go digging. You’ll attend the De Luca charity gala this weekend as my wife. And we’ll proceed from there.”
She blinked. “That’s it? No wedding? No ceremony?”
“You already had one,” he said with a smirk. “It just didn’t end the way you wanted.”
She scowled. “Funny.”
“I’m not known for being funny, Ariella. I’m known for being effective.”
Later, in Her Room
Ariella stood on the terrace, the cold wind kissing her skin as the city lights twinkled in the distance.
She could see her reflection in the glass door—part ghost, part girl trying to survive.
Married to a stranger.
Living in a mansion that felt more like a castle with no king.
But deep down, something in her stirred.
A dangerous thought.
Maybe she wasn’t just here to survive. Maybe this contract could be more than what Elian thought it was.
Maybe she could turn this cold-blooded agreement into something that gave her back her power.
Because if Elian thought she was going to be a silent wife who smiled for cameras and kept her head down...
He didn’t know her at all.
As she turned back toward her room, something on the nightstand caught her eye.
A box.
Wrapped in black velvet with her name written in Elian’s handwriting.
She opened it slowly.
Inside was a diamond necklace. But not just any necklace.
It was the one her mother used to wear before she died.
And it had been missing for fifteen years.
Her heart stopped.
How the hell did Elian De Luca get her mother’s necklace?
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