The Rules Break
826 Words
The car ride back from the gala was silent.
Damian stared out the window. I stared at his hand. The same hand that had gripped my jaw and called me “mine” in front of 300 people.
Rule 1: No touching.
He’d broken it 7 times tonight. I counted.
The elevator doors opened to the penthouse. Dark. Quiet. The city lights glittered 80 floors below like broken glass.
“Go to bed, Ava,” Damian said without looking at me. He loosened his tie. “We have a board meeting at 8 AM.”
I didn’t move. My heels clicked on the marble as I took a step toward him.
“Why did you do that?”
He stopped. Shoulders stiff. “Do what?”
“Mark me like that. In front of everyone. You said Rule 1: No touching.”
He turned slowly. Tie in his hand. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And those grey eyes… darker now. Angry.
“I told you I make new rules when necessary.” He dropped the tie on the counter. “Isabella needed to know you’re not available.”
“I’m not available?” I laughed. It came out bitter. “I’m your contract wife, Damian. For 6 months. Then I’m free.”
“No.” The word was sharp. Final.
He crossed the space between us in two steps. I backed up until my spine hit the cold glass wall. Trapped.
“You’re my wife,” he said quietly. Dangerously quiet. “On paper. In public. In my bed.”
“In my bed?” My voice cracked. “Rule 1—”
“Screw Rule 1.” He slammed his hand on the glass beside my head. I flinched.
For a second, the cold CEO was gone. The mask cracked.
“I don’t share, Ava.” His chest rose and fell. “I don’t loan what’s mine. I don’t watch other men look at my wife and pretend I don’t care.”
“You don’t care,” I whispered. “This is business.”
“Is it?” His hand came up to my face. Thumb brushing under my eye. Where Isabella’s words had stung.
“Then why did it make me want to break her neck when she called you ‘temporary’?”
My breath hitched.
“Why did I want to drag you off that balcony and lock every door in this penthouse so no one else could see you?”
Damian. Possessive. Jealous. Real.
Rule 2: No feelings.
I pushed at his chest. “Let me go.”
He didn’t. Instead, his other hand wrapped around my waist and pulled me flush against him. I could feel every hard line of him.
“Tell me to let go,” he challenged. His lips were inches from mine. “Say you don’t want me to touch you. Say it, Ava.”
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
Because I didn’t want him to let go.
That terrified me more than the debt. More than the contract.
His gaze dropped to my lips. Then back to my eyes.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured.
“You’re the reason I’m shaking.”
His mouth curved. Not a smile. Something darker. Hungrier.
“Good.”
Then he kissed me.
Not like at City Hall. Not for cameras.
This kiss was slow. Deep. Punishing. Like he was proving a point to himself as much as to me. His hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head back.
I should’ve pushed him away. Rule 1. Rule 2.
Instead, my hands clutched his shirt.
He tasted like whiskey and control. And when his teeth grazed my bottom lip, I made a sound I didn’t recognize.
He broke the kiss first. Breathing hard. Eyes wild.
For a moment, we just stared at each other. Chest to chest. Heart to heart.
Then reality crashed back.
Damian stepped back like I’d burned him. Like I was fire.
“Go to your room,” he said. Voice rough. Strangled.
I nodded. Couldn’t speak.
At the doorway to my room, his voice stopped me.
“Ava.”
I turned.
He was still standing there. Hand fisted at his side like he was holding himself back.
“Rule 5,” he said quietly.
I waited.
“Don’t ever let another man touch you. Not a handshake. Not a hug. Nothing.” His grey eyes burned into mine. “Because if they do… I won’t be responsible for what I do next.”
That wasn’t a rule. That was a threat.
That was a promise.
I slipped into my room and closed the door.
My lips still burned from his kiss.
Rule 1: No touching.
Rule 2: No feelings.
Rule 3: Obey him.
Rule 4: Don’t look at other men.
Rule 5: Don’t let other men touch me.
I was breaking them all.
And the worst part?
I didn’t want him to stop.
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- Writer
