HIS OBSESSION

CHAPTER 3: BOUND BY CONTRACT

Chapter 3: Bound by Contract

The contract was signed the next morning.

Elena sat in a sleek, private office within Varela Enterprises, her fingers tightening around the pen as she stared at the thick stack of legal documents before her. The air smelled of leather and expensive cologne, and across the polished mahogany desk, Abina Varela watched her with the sharp patience of a predator.

"Five years," she murmured, reading over the terms.

"You'll be my wife in name, in presence, and in everything the world sees," Abina said smoothly. "You'll live in my home, accompany me to public events, and follow my rules."

She swallowed. "And at the end, I walk away with a million dollars?"

His lips curled into something unreadable. "If you last that long."

Her pulse jumped, but she refused to let him see her fear.

Beside her, a man in a crisp suit—his lawyer, no doubt—cleared his throat. "The contract is airtight, Miss Russo. You will legally be Mrs. Varela for five years, unless both parties mutually dissolve the agreement. If you break the contract, you walk away with nothing."

Elena hesitated, her fingers tightening on the pen.

Was she really doing this?

She glanced at Abina. He was watching her, unwavering. There was something in his gaze, something dark and consuming, as if he knew she had no other choice.

She thought of Isabella.

With a deep breath, she signed her name.

The moment the ink dried, Abina reached for the document, his fingers brushing hers for the briefest second.

"You belong to me now, Elena," he murmured. "I hope you're ready for what that means."

The First Day as Mrs. Varela

A car arrived that evening to take her to his world.

Elena had packed light, unsure of what she would even need. She had never been the type of woman who fit into the world of silk sheets, diamond necklaces, and champagne-drenched galas. But this was her life now.

The mansion—her mansion, technically—was no less intimidating than the first time she had stepped into it. This time, though, she wasn’t a cleaning girl trespassing in a king’s domain.

She was his wife.

A butler greeted her with a stiff nod. "Mrs. Varela, your room is ready."

She blinked. "My… room?"

She had assumed she would be sleeping in Abina’s room. Wasn’t that how these things worked?

"Your wing is separate from Mr. Varela’s," the butler continued. "But he has requested your presence for dinner."

Right. Of course.

Elena inhaled and nodded. "Lead the way."

Dinner with the Devil

The dining room was a cavernous space, far too large for two people. A massive crystal chandelier hung overhead, casting golden light over the long, polished table. And at the far end, Abina sat, watching her with the same unreadable expression he always wore.

A place was set across from him. She hesitated before taking her seat.

Silence stretched between them as servers poured wine and placed a beautifully plated meal in front of her.

It felt like a test.

"So," Abina finally said, breaking the silence. "Regrets yet?"

Elena met his gaze, steady. "Not yet."

Amusement flickered in his dark eyes. "Good."

She picked up her fork, forcing herself to eat under his scrutiny.

"You’ll be accompanying me to an event tomorrow," he said casually.

She almost choked. "An event?"

"A gala. It will be your first appearance as my wife."

Her stomach tightened.

"I assume you own nothing suitable for the occasion," he mused. "I’ll have my assistant arrange something for you."

Her pride bristled. "I can choose my own dress."

"Can you?" He smirked. "Do you even know what kind of world you're stepping into, Mrs. Varela?"

Her pulse stuttered at the way he said it—slow, deliberate, claiming.

"You may not care about appearances," he continued, sipping his wine. "But in my world, image is everything. People will watch you, judge you, pick apart every flaw. You’ll need to be perfect."

A challenge.

She lifted her chin. "Then I guess I better make sure I don’t embarrass you, Mr. Varela."

Something dark and approving flickered across his face.

"Careful, Elena," he murmured. "You might actually survive in my world after all."