CHAPTER THREE:. HIS RULES
1089 Words
(Dual POV: Nina & Sebastian)
Nina
Morning in the penthouse feels like living inside a clock made of glass. Everything ticks quietly: the hum of the espresso machine, the whisper of the elevator doors, the measured sound of his shoes on marble.
He moves through his world with precision; I’m still trying to find the rhythm.
I find a note on the kitchen counter in his tidy handwriting.
> Breakfast at eight. Meeting at nine. Wear black.
No “good morning.” Just instructions.
I should hate it. Strangely, it steadies me.
When I join him in the car, he barely glances up from his tablet. “You’re punctual,” he says.
“I like knowing where I stand.”
His mouth curves slightly. “That might be a problem. I prefer people who follow, not question.”
I turn toward the window. “Then you hired the wrong girl.”
For a second, the air thickens. Then I hear a quiet breath that almost sounds like amusement.
“Maybe I did,” he murmurs.
---
The meeting is at a sleek hotel overlooking the East River. I sit beside him while executives talk numbers and strategy I barely follow. He never loses focus, but I feel his presence like static. When someone new enters the room — a woman in a red dress who greets him a little too warmly — something uncomfortable twists in me.
Sebastian notices. “Nina,” he says smoothly, interrupting the woman’s introduction, “would you take note of the projected figures?”
He doesn’t need me to take notes. He just wanted the woman to stop talking.
When the meeting ends, he leans toward me as we walk out. “Rule number one,” he says quietly. “Never let anyone make you feel small. If they try, use my name. It tends to silence people.”
I blink up at him. “You’re giving me rules now?”
He nods. “Rule two: Don’t question my motives in public. Rule three: Always tell me the truth — even when I won’t like it.”
“What happens if I break a rule?”
He opens the car door for me, eyes glinting. “You won’t.”
---
Sebastian
She’s too curious. Too alive.
Most people in my orbit treat me like glass — expensive, dangerous to touch. Nina looks at me as if she’s trying to figure out the cracks.
During the meeting, I catch the flicker of jealousy in her eyes when Catherine drapes herself across the chair beside me. I shouldn’t notice, but I do.
Jealousy means attachment.
Attachment means risk.
And yet the thought of anyone else seeing that look on her face stirs something sharp in my chest.
When we return to the penthouse, she walks straight to the balcony. Wind lifts her hair; the skyline paints her in gold.
“You have rules for everything,” she says, not turning around. “What about me? Do I get any?”
I step closer, stopping a breath away. “What would they be?”
“Maybe…” Her voice falters slightly. “Rule one: Don’t treat me like I’m for sale.”
That hits harder than I expect.
“I don’t,” I say quietly.
She finally looks back at me. “Then why do I feel like a product in your perfect life?”
I search for words and find none that won’t sound like lies. Instead, I say the truth I can handle. “Because control is all I have left, Nina. Take it away, and there’s nothing underneath.”
For a moment, neither of us moves. The wind presses her hair against my shoulder.
Then she steps back first. “That sounds lonely.”
“It is.”
---
Nina
Later that evening, I find a small black box on the dresser in my room. Inside, a silver bracelet, simple but elegant. A note rests beneath it.
> For the gala. No rules about gifts.
I run my fingers over the metal, torn between gratitude and confusion. Why would a man who guards his emotions so carefully leave something so gentle?
When I step into the hallway, I nearly bump into him. He’s just out of the shower, shirt half-buttoned, hair damp. For a heartbeat the air forgets how to move.
His eyes drop to the bracelet on my wrist.
“It suits you,” he says softly.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Neither of us moves away. The space between us hums — not dangerous, just alive.
Then, quietly, he adds, “Rule four: Don’t thank me for things I should’ve done a long time ago.”
And before I can ask what he means, he’s already gone.
---
Sebastian
That night I can’t sleep. Her laughter from earlier still echoes somewhere inside the walls I’ve built. She’s breaking every rule I made to keep people out, and I can’t decide if I want to stop her.
I pour another glass of whiskey, staring at the city lights. Somewhere down the hall, a door opens softly. Bare feet on marble.
I know it’s her before I see her.
She stops a few steps away, wearing a long robe, worry written across her face. “You’re awake,” she says.
“So are you.”
“I heard glass.”
I look at the tumbler in my hand. “Nothing broken.”
She hesitates. “Maybe that’s the problem, Sebastian. You never let anything break.”
Her voice is soft, but it lands like truth.
For a long moment we stand in silence, the city glimmering behind us. I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek — not possession, not command, just a quiet, human impulse.
Her breath catches. The sound pulls at something deep inside me. I drop my hand before it turns into more.
“Go to bed, Nina,” I whisper.
She nods slowly, eyes still on mine. “Good night, Mr. Kane.”
When she’s gone, the air still feels warm where she stood.
---
Nina
Back in my room, I press my hand against my chest, trying to calm the heartbeat that doesn’t want to listen.
I came here for money, not emotion. I told myself I could stay detached.
But tonight I saw the loneliness behind his control, and it scared me — not because it’s there, but because I want to touch it.
And that might be the most dangerous rule of all.
- Writer
