Episode seven
665 Words
Chapter 7: The First Rule
Rose stared at the contract on the table.
She had read it twice already, but somehow the words looked even more serious the third time.
One year.
That was all.
One year of pretending to be Alexander King’s wife.
One year of living in his world.
One year before they could walk away from each other.
She slowly lifted her eyes.
“There's something I don't understand.”
Alexander looked up from his phone. “What?”
“You said this marriage would be simple.”
“It will be.”
Rose pointed at the contract. “Nothing about this is simple.”
For the first time that evening, the corner of Alexander’s mouth lifted.
“Then ask your question.”
Rose hesitated.
“What happens if one of us breaks the rules?”
Alexander placed his phone on the table.
“That depends on which rule.”
She turned the contract toward him.
“The first one.”
His expression became serious.
“No falling in love.”
Rose stopped.
She hadn't expected him to say it so directly.
“And why is that the first rule?”
“Because,” Alexander said quietly, “everything else can be controlled.”
Rose studied his face.
“And love can't?”
“No.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Rose gave a small laugh.
“Don't worry. Falling in love with you isn't exactly on my list of plans.”
Alexander raised an eyebrow.
“Good.”
She folded her arms.
“Very good.”
A silence followed.
Then Alexander stood.
“I have one more thing to show you.”
“What?”
“My house.”
Rose blinked.
“I thought I already knew where you lived.”
“You've never been inside.”
She stared at him.
“You want me to move in already?”
“You're supposed to be my wife.”
“Fake wife.”
“Still my wife in public.”
Rose sighed.
“This is going to be a long year.”
Alexander opened the door.
“You have no idea.”
Twenty minutes later, Rose stood in front of Alexander's enormous house.
She looked up.
Then higher.
Then even higher.
“This is a house?”
Alexander glanced at her.
“Yes.”
“This looks like a hotel.”
“It's not.”
Rose slowly stepped inside.
Everything was elegant—huge windows, expensive furniture, shining floors, and paintings covering the walls.
She turned to Alexander.
“You actually live here alone?”
“Yes.”
“That explains a lot.”
“What does it explain?”
“Why you look like you don't know how normal people live.”
Alexander almost smiled.
“You talk too much.”
“And you don't talk enough.”
They stared at each other.
For a second, the argument disappeared.
Something about the silence felt different.
Rose quickly looked away.
“No falling in love,” she reminded herself quietly.
Alexander heard her.
But he said nothing.
Instead, he walked toward the staircase.
“Your room is upstairs.”
Rose followed him.
“My room?”
“Yes.”
“Separate from yours?”
“Obviously.”
She smiled.
“Good. At least we agree on something.”
Alexander stopped at the top of the stairs.
“There is one more rule.”
Rose groaned.
“Another one?”
He turned toward her.
“Whatever happens between us, we never forget why we signed the contract.”
Rose's smile disappeared.
She understood.
This wasn't a real marriage.
It was an agreement.
A temporary arrangement.
Nothing more.
She nodded.
“Deal.”
Alexander held out his hand.
Rose looked at it before shaking it.
“Deal.”
Neither of them noticed the contract lying downstairs on the table.
And neither of them knew that before the year was over, the very first rule would be the hardest one to keep.
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