Married By Contract, Bounded By Love.

CHAPTER 4

Nicolas’ eight-bedroom, six-bathroom mansion was a fortress of luxury. Every room was meticulously designed, and the spacious kitchen gleamed with stainless steel and marble, though Nicolas rarely used it himself. That was more of a Sophia thing. The mansion also featured a private library, home theater, wine cellar, and gym.

When Nicolas got home, he expected Sophia to be there, perhaps curled up on the couch or in the kitchen, but the house was empty. It was past 10 p.m. Their earlier conversation, when he called to check on her father, left him stunned. Why did she snap at him like that? It must have been their argument at the gala.

He threw his keys onto the marble counter, the clinking sound echoing in the quiet. He shrugged off his jacket, draped it over a chair, and poured himself a scotch. The amber liquid burned his throat as he downed it.

He remembered her striking hazel eyes frantically searching his face and how she pouted her soft-looking full lips. That created an unnecessary soft feeling in his stomach, which he disliked. He remembered how he had to clench his fist not to reach out and move her rich dark-blonde hair lazily framing her delicately beautiful face. Her soft eyebrows, ivory skin tone, and delicate nose made her face perfect. Why was he suddenly remembering all these details?

“Did I come off too harsh?” he wondered, frowning as he downed another glass of scotch. Maybe he should’ve eased up a little. But then again, he couldn’t get too comfortable around her. These details were already making him awkward, plus he wasn’t ready for any of that love-story drama, or the mess that came with it.

Still, there was this... soft spot that seemed to grow, an unexplainable urge to protect her whenever she was near. “No way," he muttered to himself. "It’s just instinct, keeping things in check.” That sounded better. More logical. After all, with the whole governorship thing weighing on him, he didn’t need any emotional distractions. And he wasn’t ready to back out. No, he wouldn’t do that. Not now.

He glanced at the clock. “I should probably call her again. It’s getting late.” He didn’t know why, but something tugged at his chest, almost mocking him for wanting to reach out when he’d just convinced himself he didn’t care.

He hesitated. The phone beeped as he dialed her number, the screen showing "Calling…"

“Come on, pick up,” he muttered. When the call ended without an answer, he rolled his eyes, frustrated. Why did he care?

One more try.

“Hello...?”

***

Sophia jolted awake, gasping for air and coughing at the same time. Her heart pounded as her eyes darted around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The walls and faint beeping of hospital monitors brought her back to reality.

It was just a dream.

She heaved a deep sigh of relief, running a hand through her hair as she sat up straighter.

She hadn’t even left the hospital yet.

“Okay, he’s not with Violet,” she muttered, steadying her breath. It was all in a dream. But as the tension eased from her body, a strange thought surfaced: why did it comfort her more that Nicolas wasn’t with Violet than the fact that Ben hadn’t choked her?

Her fingers trembled slightly as she pressed them to her temples, trying to shake off the lingering images.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the persistent buzz of her phone—no wonder she’d felt it in her dream.

Reaching into her lap, she glanced at the screen. “Oh shoot, it’s Nicolas.” Her eyes widened when she saw the time. “It’s past 10!” She quickly swiped to answer the call.

“Hello, you’re not coming home tonight?” Nicolas’s voice sounded drowsy.

“Home? Oh yes, sure, I’m on my way.” She hesitated, caught off guard by his tone. Did he sound like he missed her? And why had he called his house their home? Our home. The phrase lingered in her mind, unexpected but oddly nice.

After the call ended, she stared at her phone for a moment before smiling at herself. “He’s too dashing to be angry at for long,” she mumbled, shaking her head.

Before leaving, she checked on Antonio one last time. He was still resting peacefully, his face calm and unbothered. She squeezed his hand gently.

“You’ve been through so much Dad,” she thought, brushing her fingers lightly over his knuckles. “I’ll make sure we’re safe, no matter what it takes.”

With one last glance at him, she grabbed her things and headed for the car.

***

Nicolas looked like he was wasted when Sophia got home. That was a strange sight because Nicolas never drank too much. He was always in control of whatever, and she was surprised he wasn’t in his room. Was he waiting for her?

Sophia moved closer, bending over to study his face. Nicolas rarely let himself get carried away, let alone drink to this extent. She waved her fingers in front of his face, murmuring, "Wow, he’s really knocked out."

Just as she was about to straighten up, his hand shot out, pulling her down. Her body crashed into his, and a gasp escaped her lips as her eyes widened in shock.

For a moment, time froze. He had never done anything like this before. Nicolas went out of his way to avoid even accidental touches. He was strict about the boundaries in their contract, as if to remind them both of what this marriage was supposed to be, there had always been a wall between them. But now, as his hand rested against her waist, all of that seemed not to matter.

“You’re drunk,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. She tried to pull away, but his grip didn’t loosen. "Let me help you to your room."

“I’mm nott drunk,” he slurred, the words tumbling out with so much effort she almost laughed despite herself.

He shook his head, his hair falling over his forehead. She hesitated, then looped an arm around his waist to help him up, guiding him up the stairs with his weight leaning heavily on her.

As they entered his room, she eased him onto the edge of the bed. The closeness between them made her pause. His warmth, the scent of his cologne mixed with alcohol, and the vulnerability in his gaze made fresh emotions rush through her. Her heart pounded as she helped him steady himself. She couldn’t help to not love him.

“You’re just here for the money, right? Nothing more.” Nicolas mumbled as he drew her closer to him.

The words stung. They hit harder than they should have, not because she didn’t expect them, but because she had hoped somewhere deep down that he saw more in her than just a transactional partner.

“I care because we’re in this together,” she said, her voice quiet but firm.

Nicolas didn’t respond right away. Instead, his hand reached up, brushing against her cheek. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she stiffened, caught between pulling away and leaning into it.

“I don’t need anyone,” he whispered, his voice low, but there was something in his eyes—an emotion, raw and intense. It made her stomach tighten.

She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through her. “Nicolas, you’re drunk. You need to rest,” she said, forcing herself to sound composed.

But he didn’t let go. If anything, he pulled her closer, his breath warm against her skin. “I know what I need,” he murmured.

Her heart raced as his lips brushed her neck, sending waves of heat through her, especially in between her legs.

She knew this was dangerous. Crossing this line could ruin everything. Yet her perseverance wavered as his hands slid over her, cupping her backside, their warmth igniting something she had tried so hard to suppress.

“Nicolas…” she began, but before she could finish, his lips claimed hers.

The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them, caught in their emotions. His kiss was demanding, and she responded, her thoughts clouded by the moment’s intensity.

As they tumbled onto the bed, her mind screamed at her to stop, to think, but her heart and the longing overruled her.

His hands roamed over her back, their warmth searing through the fabric of her dress. Slowly, he loosened the tiny straps of her dress from her shoulders, his touch deliberate.

Sophia’s breath quickened as her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, fumbling slightly before pushing it off him. She froze for a moment, her gaze flicking up to meet his.

Their clothes soon became a pool at their feet. She felt him, as he guided his hips and planted them between hers, making her legs voluntarily part on their own. He was majestic, and soon she felt like he eased into her. That moment, their bodies became one. She felt his hands on her skin, gentle but insistent, as though he were trying to memorize every inch of her as their movement quickened with moans.

…

When it was over, and the room fell silent, reality crept back in. Sophia lay beside him, her heart heavy with the weight of what they’d just done. She turned her head to look at Nicolas. His face, softened by sleep, made her chest ache with emotions she couldn’t separate. She felt ashamed.

Would this change anything? Would he push her further away? He would hate her more now. All he wanted was business and here she was giving her body to him when he was clearly drunk. She prayed in her heart and hoped he wouldn’t remember this by morning.

Sophia quietly slipped out of bed, gathered her scattered clothes, and made her way to her room.