The Bedroom Rules
241 Words
Ethan's mansion was bigger than any hotel in Lagos. Cold. Silent. Perfect.
He led me to the second floor and opened a door. "Your room."
It was beautiful. Bigger than my entire apartment in Nigeria. A king-sized bed, walk-in closet filled with designer clothes in my size.
"How did you know my size?" I asked.
He didn't answer. Instead he said, "Rules."
"Rule one. We sleep in separate rooms. Rule two. We appear together at family dinners. You will play the perfect loving wife. Rule three. No one can know this is a contract."
"And rule four?" I whispered.
His eyes dropped to my lips. "Don't fall in love with me, Jennifer. I don't do love."
My heart squeezed painfully. "Don't worry, Mr. Cole. I don't fall in love with ice."
He smirked. "We'll see."
That night, I couldn't sleep. At 2 AM, I went downstairs for water. I found Ethan in the kitchen, shirtless, drinking whiskey. His back was muscled, tattoos running down his spine.
He turned. His eyes darkened when he saw me in my short silk nightgown.
"Can't sleep, wife?"
"Don't call me that," I said, but my voice trembled.
He walked towards me, slowly. "What should I call you then? My beautiful contract?"
He was inches away. I could smell whiskey and his expensive cologne. My heart was beating so fast.
"You should go back to your room, Jennifer. Before I break my own rules."
I ran.
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