Chapter 2 – His House, His Rules
1445 Words
“You will follow the rules.”
Elara stood in the center of the bedroom, her suitcase unopened at her feet. The room was too large, too perfect. Soft lighting illuminated the cream-colored walls, and the bed looked untouched, as if no one had ever slept there. Everything smelled faintly of expensive cologne and polished wood.
She turned to face Adrian, who stood near the door with his arms crossed, watching her like she was a variable he needed to calculate.
“I haven’t even seen the rules yet,” she said quietly.
“You will,” he replied. “And you will obey them.”
The door clicked shut behind him, the sound echoing in the silence. Elara flinched despite herself.
“This house operates on order,” Adrian continued. “I do not tolerate chaos, disobedience, or unnecessary emotion.”
Her jaw tightened. “I am not a machine.”
“No,” he said calmly. “You are my wife. Which means your actions reflect on me.”
The word wife felt heavy. Foreign. Unreal.
He stepped closer, stopping a safe distance away. “Rule one. You will not enter my private study without permission.”
She nodded stiffly.
“Rule two. You will attend social and business events when required. You will smile, speak when spoken to, and never contradict me in public.”
She lifted her chin. “And in private?”
A faint pause. His gaze darkened for a brief moment before returning to its usual cold control. “In private, you may speak freely. Within reason.”
Her fingers curled into fists. “How generous.”
Adrian ignored the sarcasm. “Rule three. Our marriage remains strictly contractual. There will be no emotional expectations. No attachment.”
The words stung more than she expected.
“Good,” she said quickly. “Because I have no intention of falling in love with you.”
Something flickered in his eyes, too fast to read.
“We are in agreement,” he said.
He turned toward the door. “Dinner will be served at eight. Do not be late.”
And then he left.
Elara exhaled shakily and sank onto the edge of the bed. Her heart raced, her mind spinning with everything that had happened in less than twenty-four hours. She pressed her palms to her face, trying to ground herself.
This was real.
She stood and began unpacking, moving slowly, methodically. Clothes were placed neatly in the closet, shoes aligned perfectly. Everything here demanded order, even from her.
At exactly eight o’clock, she made her way downstairs.
The dining room was vast, dominated by a long table that felt unnecessarily large for two people. Adrian sat at the head, already eating, his posture perfect, his movements controlled.
She hesitated before taking a seat across from him.
“You’re on time,” he said without looking up.
“You said not to be late.”
“That was not a suggestion.”
Dinner passed in near silence. The food was exquisite, but Elara barely tasted it. She felt like a guest in a museum, afraid to touch anything in case she broke an invisible rule.
Finally, she set down her fork. “Is this how it will always be?”
Adrian glanced up. “Efficient?”
“Empty,” she replied.
“This is not a marriage built for comfort,” he said. “It is built for purpose.”
She swallowed. “And what is that purpose, exactly?”
He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “That is not information you need yet.”
Yet.
The word lingered.
Later that night, Elara wandered into the hallway, unable to sleep. The house was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made every sound feel amplified. She paused outside a closed door, instinct telling her this was Adrian’s study.
She reached out, then stopped herself.
Rule one.
With a sigh, she turned away, only to nearly collide with him.
“You should be sleeping,” Adrian said, his voice low.
“I could say the same,” she replied, startled.
He was not wearing his suit now, only a simple black shirt, sleeves rolled up. Somehow, he looked more dangerous like this.
“This house has a routine,” he continued. “You will adjust.”
She crossed her arms. “You make it sound like I’m a pet.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “I make it sound like survival.”
Something in his tone unsettled her.
“I didn’t choose this,” she said softly.
“No,” he agreed. “But you signed it.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Good night, Elara,” he said finally.
She watched him walk away, her chest tight.
The next morning, Elara woke early. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, painting the room in warm gold. For a moment, she almost forgot where she was.
Then reality settled back in.
She dressed simply and went downstairs, determined not to let this house swallow her whole.
She found Adrian already in the living room, speaking quietly into his phone.
“Delay the merger,” he said. “I want full control.”
He ended the call and turned to her. “You will accompany me today.”
Her stomach dropped. “Where?”
“A business lunch.”
“I don’t know anything about your business.”
“You do not need to,” he said. “You need to be present.”
She hesitated. “I don’t want to be paraded around.”
“You are my wife,” he replied flatly. “That is your role.”
Anger flared. “I am more than a role.”
His gaze sharpened. “Then prove it.”
The restaurant was upscale, filled with well-dressed people who glanced curiously as they entered. Adrian’s hand settled at the small of her back, possessive and firm.
She stiffened.
“Relax,” he murmured. “They are watching.”
They sat across from two executives, both men older than Adrian, their smiles polite but assessing.
“So this is your wife,” one of them said. “You’ve been very private.”
Adrian’s grip tightened slightly. “Privacy is necessary.”
Elara smiled when spoken to, just as instructed. She answered simple questions, kept her posture straight, her tone calm.
“You’re very quiet,” the other man noted.
Elara glanced at Adrian, then back at them. “I prefer listening.”
Adrian’s lips curved faintly, almost approving.
As the lunch continued, Elara began to notice subtle dynamics. The way people deferred to Adrian. The way his words carried weight. This was not just wealth. This was power.
On the drive back, she finally spoke. “You’re dangerous.”
He glanced at her. “Is that a complaint?”
“It’s an observation.”
He said nothing.
That evening, tension hung thick in the air.
“You handled yourself well today,” Adrian said as they entered the house.
“Is that praise?” she asked.
“An acknowledgment.”
She hesitated. “Why did you choose me?”
He stopped walking.
For a long moment, he did not answer.
“Because you were available,” he said finally.
The lie was thin.
She looked at him, really looked. “You’re hiding something.”
His expression hardened. “That is not your concern.”
“Everything about this is my concern,” she shot back. “You dragged me into your life.”
“You agreed,” he reminded her.
“Yes,” she said, voice trembling. “But you still haven’t told me why.”
Adrian stepped closer, his presence overwhelming.
“Curiosity can be dangerous,” he said quietly.
“So can silence.”
Their eyes locked. Something electric passed between them, sharp and unsettling.
“Do not mistake this,” he said. “Whatever you feel here is temporary.”
She swallowed. “You don’t scare me.”
“You should be afraid,” he replied.
That night, Elara stood at the window of her room, staring out at the city lights. Her life had been reduced to rules and obligations, yet something inside her refused to break.
She would not be invisible.
Down the hall, Adrian sat alone in his study, staring at surveillance footage displayed on his screen. Images of Elara earlier that day flickered past.
“She doesn’t know,” he murmured.
He leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face.
This marriage was not only about control.
It was about revenge.
And Elara Quinn was standing at the center of a storm she never saw coming.
- Writer
