Chapter Three
1333 Words
The silence inside the penthouse was heavy. Almost suffocating.
Emma stood in the center of her new bedroom, surrounded by an elegance she had never imagined touching. White marble floors stretched beneath her feet, contrasting with the plush velvet armchair by the window. The king-sized bed looked like something out of a magazine—crisp white linens, gold-accented frames, and pillows that probably cost more than her rent back home.
But it didn’t matter how beautiful the room was.
Because to Emma, it wasn’t a bedroom.
It was a cage.
Her hands trembled slightly as she unpacked the single bag she’d brought. A few worn clothes, her cheap phone charger, a faded photo of her and her younger brother Liam—the only thing that truly mattered in her life.
As soon as her fingers brushed the frame, her chest tightened.
You’re doing this for him. Remember that.
Her eyes burned, but she refused to let the tears fall. Not now. Not here. Not under his roof.
A soft knock startled her.
She turned quickly, half expecting Alexander’s cold gaze, but instead found a middle-aged woman standing at the doorway. She wore a black uniform and an awkward but polite smile.
“Mrs. Knight... I mean... Emma.” The woman cleared her throat nervously. “I’m Margaret. House manager. Mr. Knight asked me to inform you that dinner will be served in an hour.”
“Dinner?” Emma blinked. “Oh." Right.”
“Also... if you need anything, anything at all, just let me know.” Her voice softened, almost kind. “I... I know this is a bit... sudden.”
Emma forced a thin smile. “Yeah. That’s an understatement.”
Margaret lingered for a second, as if wanting to say more, but then offered a polite nod and quietly left.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Emma sank onto the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands.
God, what have I done?
***
An hour later, Emma stood in front of a full-length mirror, staring at the reflection of someone she barely recognized.
Gone was the worn-out waitress in cheap jeans. In her place was a woman in a sleek navy-blue dress, its fabric hugging her curves but still modest enough to scream ‘expensive’ instead of ‘desperate.’
Her hair was pinned neatly, a touch of gloss on her lips, mascara making her dark eyes pop.
She hated how well it suited her.
Hated how easily money could polish anyone into looking like they belonged in this world.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders. “It’s just dinner. Survive dinner. Then figure out the rest.”
The dining room was as excessive as the rest of the penthouse—an absurdly long glass table that could seat twelve, even though only two spaces were set.
Alexander was already there, seated at the head of the table, scrolling through something on his phone. Without looking up, he gestured to the seat beside him. “Sit.”
Emma bristled at the command but said nothing. She pulled the chair back and sat, folding her hands tightly in her lap.
Silence stretched between them until a pair of staff members quietly brought out the first course—some delicate dish Emma couldn’t even name.
Alexander finally set his phone down, fingers steepled under his chin as he studied her.
“You clean up well.”
Her jaw tightened. “Thanks, I think.”
A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. “You’re not going to cry, are you?”
She glared. “Do I look like I cry easily?”
“No,” he admitted. “You don’t." Which is... convenient.”
Emma stabbed her fork into the delicate pile of food, unsure whether to eat it or throw it at him. “So. Are we going to pretend to be civil now? Or are you going to keep glaring at me like I’m gum on your shoe?”
Alexander’s lips twitched. “Feisty.” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “But no, we’re not pretending to be civil." We’re business partners now. That’s all.”
“Partners?” she scoffed. “Funny. Feels more like you bought me at an auction.”
His expression darkened. “Careful.”
“Or what?” she shot back before she could stop herself.
The air shifted.
Alexander leaned forward slowly, his gaze locking with hers, sharp enough to cut. “Or you’ll quickly learn that while I’m not a violent man... "I’m very, very good at making life difficult for people who test my patience.”
A shiver ran down her spine. Her fingers curled around her fork, knuckles whitening. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Mm.” He picked up his glass of wine, swirling it lazily. “I get that a lot.”
Silence hovered again as the next course was placed in front of them.
Emma forced herself to eat, barely tasting anything. Her nerves were too frayed.
Finally, after a long pause, Alexander spoke, his tone calmer but no less commanding. “There are rules.”
She set her fork down, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “Of course there are.”
“Rule number one,” he said smoothly. “In public, we are a married couple.” No arguments. No slip-ups. You smile, you play nice. You act like a doting wife.”
Her stomach twisted. “And behind closed doors?”
“We’re nothing,” he answered bluntly. Strangers. Business partners. You live your life. I live mine. As long as you don’t interfere, we’ll have no problems.”
Emma swallowed the lump in her throat. “Right. And what happens if someone asks how we met? How did we... fall in love?”
Alexander’s eyes narrowed slightly. “We’ll rehearse the story." And you’ll memorize it.”
“Great.” She pushed her plate away. “Anything else?”
“Rule two.” His gaze didn’t waver. “No scandals. No gossip. No getting caught with anyone else. You are, for all intents and purposes, my wife. Until the contract ends.”
Her cheeks heated. “You think I’d be... with someone else? Trust me, Knight, no one is lining up to date a woman in a contract marriage.”
His jaw ticked. “Good. Keep it that way.”
Emma’s heart thudded. Was that... jealousy? No. Impossible. He didn’t care. He couldn’t.
“Rule three.” His voice dipped, almost softer, but sharper. “You don’t fall in love with me.”
Her breath caught. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Alexander said, fingers tapping the table. “This is business.” Nothing more. No complicated feelings. No drama. Understand?”
For a moment, Emma stared at him, speechless. Then... laughter bubbled up, sharp and bitter. “Oh my God. You actually think I’d fall for you?”
His brow arched. “It’s happened before.”
She stood, her chair scraping the marble floor. “Trust me, Knight. Falling for you is the last thing that would ever happen.”
Alexander’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
***
Back in her room, Emma paced restlessly.
Her hands trembled. Her thoughts wouldn’t settle.
This was her life now. A fake wife to a billionaire with ice in his veins.
She walked to the window, staring at the city lights below. People down there were living normal lives. Falling in love. Starting families. Fighting. Forgiving. Dreaming.
And here she was.
Trapped in a marriage she never asked for.
Her reflection caught her eye in the glass—tired eyes, tense jaw, a woman on the verge of breaking.
But not yet. Not tonight.
Emma Carter didn’t break that easily.
If Alexander Knight thought she was just going to roll over and play the perfect little wife...
He was about to learn exactly how wrong he was.
- Writer
