Chapter Three: Ice and Fire
699 Words
Ella quickly learned that living with Xander Knight was like cohabiting with a very polished ghost. He left early. He returned late. He barely spoke unless it was about schedules or logistics. The man was a walking, talking corporate calendar.
But despite his coldness, Ella couldn’t help noticing the little things.
He was precise. Disciplined. He brewed his own coffee every morning—black, no sugar. He kept his suits lined up like soldiers in a private walk-in wardrobe that was bigger than her entire old apartment.
And he was undeniably attractive.
Not that it mattered.
Not that it should matter.
Still, when he walked into the room with that steely confidence and those sharp cheekbones, it was hard not to feel like she was in a romance novel… one where the male lead hadn’t decided if he even liked her existence.
⸻
By Friday, the day of the gala arrived.
Ella stood in her assigned dressing room, staring at the floor-length black silk gown a stylist had selected. It fit like a glove and clung to her curves in all the right places. Paired with a diamond necklace and subtle makeup, she barely recognized herself.
“Don’t let them intimidate you,” Zoe had said earlier on the phone. “You’re Mrs. Knight now. Own it.”
Xander entered without knocking, adjusting his cufflinks. He looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time in days.
His eyes lingered just a second longer than they should have.
“You clean up well,” he said simply.
“You look… expensive,” Ella replied, smirking.
His lips twitched again. Almost a smile. Almost.
⸻
The gala was hosted in a hotel ballroom filled with New York’s elite. Photographers flashed their cameras the moment they entered. Xander placed a hand lightly on her lower back—a gesture of possession more than affection—and guided her through the crowd.
Everyone wanted a piece of him. Board members, investors, media darlings. But Xander stayed close to her, whispering names and background information before each introduction like it was second nature.
She played the role of perfect wife—smiling, polite, poised.
At one point, a woman in a plunging red dress approached with a forced smile. “Xander, darling. You didn’t tell me you’d finally married.”
Xander’s jaw tightened. “Vanessa.”
Ella instantly understood—this was the ex.
Vanessa turned to her. “You must be the lucky bride. I’m sure this is… quite the adjustment for someone like you.”
Ella smiled sweetly. “Yes, it is. But Xander makes everything feel like home.”
Xander’s fingers curled slightly against her back.
Vanessa’s smirk faltered.
⸻
Later, as they stood on the rooftop terrace, away from the chatter, Ella leaned against the railing. The night air was crisp, the city buzzing below them.
“You didn’t tell me your ex would be here,” she said softly.
“I don’t owe you explanations,” Xander replied, staring out at the skyline.
“No,” she said, glancing at him. “But it would’ve been considerate.”
He looked at her then, his expression unreadable.
“You handled it well.”
“I wasn’t performing for you. I just didn’t want to embarrass myself.”
A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Is that pride talking, Ella?”
“No. That’s self-respect.”
There was a long pause. Then he surprised her.
“She cheated. Vanessa. With my business rival. Then tried to marry me for control of my shares.”
Ella’s eyes widened.
“So this contract marriage…”
“Is safer than another betrayal.”
She softened slightly. “That sounds… lonely.”
He turned toward her, and for the first time, his voice lost its cold edge. “Loneliness is better than false affection.”
She didn’t know what possessed her, but she reached out and touched his arm. Just a small, human gesture.
He flinched—barely—but didn’t pull away.
Something in the air shifted.
Not love. Not yet.
But something real.
And suddenly, the rules of their agreement felt more fragile than they’d seemed before.
- Writer
