CHAPTER 2
1350 Words
The word mine still echoed in Tracy’s ears as she left the hotel suite, her signature burning like fire on the paper she had just signed. She walked into the night air, the rain cooling her flushed cheeks, but nothing could extinguish the chill of Alex Knight’s words.
You belong to me.
The city lights blurred as she made her way home, her mind in a haze. She didn’t even remember climbing the steps to her apartment or unlocking the door. She sat on her bed, staring at her cracked ceiling, and wondered if she had just rewritten the entire course of her life.
By morning, the reality of what she had agreed to came crashing down. Her phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.
Driver will arrive at 10 a.m. Pack lightly.
Pack lightly? Tracy stared at the message. Was she moving into his penthouse like some neatly packaged accessory? Her hands trembled as she stuffed clothes into a battered suitcase. Every dress she owned suddenly looked too cheap, every shoe too worn. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.
At exactly ten, a black car pulled up outside her building. The driver, suited and expressionless, loaded her suitcase into the trunk and opened the door with robotic precision. Tracy climbed in, her stomach in knots, her heart drumming against her ribs.
The ride felt endless. The deeper they drove into the heart of the city, the higher the towers rose, until the car finally slowed before a glittering skyscraper of glass and steel. Alex Knight’s domain.
She was led through a private entrance, into a sleek elevator that whispered upward without a sound. When the doors opened, Tracy’s breath caught in her throat.
The penthouse was a world she had only seen in magazines. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the living room, framing the city skyline in dazzling sunlight. The air smelled faintly of leather and expensive cologne. Every surface gleamed—glass tables, polished steel, the sheen of black leather sofas. It was beautiful. And cold.
A home that didn’t feel like a home at all.
Tracy stood awkwardly near the entrance, clutching the strap of her bag, her scuffed shoes sinking into a Persian rug that probably cost more than her yearly rent.
“You’re early.”
His voice cut through the silence. Alex entered the room with the same quiet authority he carried everywhere. He was already dressed in a dark suit, tie knotted perfectly, his presence so commanding that the penthouse itself seemed to revolve around him.
Tracy’s mouth went dry. “Your driver—he came at ten, like the message said.”
Alex’s lips twitched in something between amusement and indifference. “Good. At least you follow instructions.”
She bit back a retort, her pride stinging. She had signed the contract, yes, but she wasn’t his puppet.
He studied her, eyes flicking to her worn bag and simple clothes. A muscle in his jaw tightened, as though her very existence offended his immaculate world. Then, without a word, he handed her a thin folder.
“Rules,” he said simply.
Tracy opened it with shaky hands. Her eyes skimmed the pages.
Attend all public events when requested.
Maintain appearances as a devoted fiancée.
No personal relationships during the contract.
Absolute discretion about the arrangement.
Her heart hammered harder as she reached the last one:
Rule Number Ten: Never question me in public.
She raised her head, meeting his storm-gray gaze. “You’re serious about this?”
Alex’s stare didn’t waver. “Deadly serious.”
Something in his tone made her shiver. For a moment, she thought she saw something behind that mask—anger, maybe pain—but it vanished as quickly as it came.
She closed the folder slowly, her defiance sparking. “Fine. But if I’m going to be your perfect little fiancée, then remember this, Alex Knight. I may have signed your contract, but I didn’t sign away my dignity. I’ll play my part, but I won’t let you treat me like I’m invisible.”
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them like a taut wire.
Then Alex’s lips curved into something dangerous. A smile—not polished, not for the cameras, but real. Dark. Sharp. Unsettlingly beautiful.
“Careful, Miss Morgan,” he murmured, stepping closer, his presence wrapping around her like a storm. “Defiance makes me want to test how far I can push you.”
Her breath caught, but she refused to look away.
For the first time since they met, Alex Knight looked at her not just as a contract, but as a challenge.
And Tracy couldn’t decide if that terrified her—or thrilled her.
The silence stretched, thick with unspoken words, until Alex finally stepped back. The distance he created was small, but it felt like she could breathe again.
“Your room is down the hall, second door on the right,” he said coolly, his voice once again clipped and impersonal. “Dinner will be served at eight. Don’t be late.”
He turned and walked away without another glance, leaving Tracy standing there, her pulse racing, the folder of rules still heavy in her hands.
The bedroom assigned to her was larger than her entire apartment. Cream-colored walls, a king-sized bed draped in silk sheets, a balcony that opened to a breathtaking view of the glittering skyline. Yet instead of comfort, Tracy felt suffocated.
This wasn’t her home. This was a gilded cage.
She sank onto the bed, running her fingers over the sheets, the rules replaying in her mind. Attend public events. Be his fiancée. Never question him in public.
She hated herself for the tremor of excitement that shot through her veins when she remembered his last words—Defiance makes me want to test how far I can push you.
By the time dinner rolled around, she had composed herself enough to put on the dress left hanging in the wardrobe. Simple, elegant, black—it fit her better than anything she owned. Too well, almost as if Alex had guessed her size with unnerving precision.
She found him already seated at the long dining table, a glass of red wine in hand. He looked at her briefly, then gestured to the chair opposite.
“Sit.”
The food was exquisite—steak cooked to perfection, roasted vegetables, and wine that made her head light with just one sip. But Tracy barely tasted any of it. The silence between them was heavier than the marble table they sat at.
Finally, she cleared her throat. “So, this is it, then? My new life?”
Alex’s fork paused midair. His eyes lifted to hers, sharp and unreadable. “No, Miss Morgan. This is just the beginning.”
The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine.
They ate in near silence after that. Every time she thought about speaking, the weight of his presence silenced her. He didn’t need to raise his voice or glare—his calm, steady confidence was enough to make her feel exposed.
When dinner ended, Alex stood. “Tomorrow, you’ll have your first test.”
Tracy blinked. “Test?”
“The press conference. Reporters, cameras, questions. They’ll want to see the future Mrs. Knight.” His lips curved faintly. “Try not to embarrass yourself.”
Her stomach dropped. The press. The whole world would see her tomorrow—her and Alex, together.
He walked past her toward the study, leaving her speechless.
That night, Tracy lay in the massive bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep refused to come. Every creak of the penthouse, every whisper of wind against the glass windows seemed louder than usual. Her body ached with restlessness.
When she finally drifted off, her dreams were a confusing blur of Alex’s cold eyes, his infuriating smirk, and the heat of his nearness.
She woke before dawn, tangled in silk sheets, her heart still racing.
Her first thought was not of the press conference, not of the rules.
It was of Alex Knight.
- Writer
