New Rules
1405 Words
ELENA
The penthouse was quiet.
Too quiet.
I stood near the entrance holding my bag while my eyes slowly moved across the massive space around me.
Everything looked expensive.
Dark furniture.
Soft golden lighting.
Glass walls overlooking the city skyline.
The place was beautiful in the kind of way that felt untouchable.
But somehow it also felt empty.
Cold.
Like nobody truly lived here emotionally.
Lucien removed his watch calmly before placing it on a nearby table.
“You can look around if you want.”
I glanced toward him.
“You say that like this place is normal.”
“For me, it is.”
Of course it was.
I stepped farther inside slowly.
The penthouse honestly looked larger than some hotels.
A massive living room stretched ahead while the city lights reflected beautifully against the windows.
The kitchen looked untouched.
Perfectly clean.
That alone told me a lot.
“You don’t cook often,” I said quietly.
Lucien loosened the top button of his shirt slightly.
“I work often.”
“That was not my question.”
“It answered it anyway.”
I shook my head softly.
Talking to him sometimes felt like trying to open a locked door with the wrong key.
I walked toward the windows slowly.
The view was breathtaking.
Cars moved like tiny lights below while the city glowed endlessly beneath the night sky.
“You can see everything from up here,” I murmured.
Lucien stepped beside me.
“Yes.”
His voice sounded quieter now somehow.
Less sharp.
Maybe he was more relaxed at home.
Or maybe I was simply starting to notice smaller things about him.
Dangerous thought.
I quickly stepped away from the window.
“So where exactly am I staying?”
Lucien gestured toward the hallway.
“The east wing.”
I blinked.
“The east wing?”
“Yes.”
“You live in a place with wings?”
“That surprises you?”
“Yes.”
That faint amusement appeared in his eyes again.
Very brief.
But definitely there.
Lucien picked up my suitcase himself before walking down the hallway.
I followed behind him quietly.
The penthouse somehow became even larger the farther we walked.
Several rooms lined the hallway while soft lights illuminated the dark walls.
Everything looked carefully designed.
Perfectly controlled.
Just like him.
Lucien finally stopped in front of a large door.
“This is yours.”
He opened it calmly.
And my breath caught instantly.
The room looked beautiful.
Large windows.
Soft cream colored walls.
A massive bed near the center.
Elegant furniture.
Fresh flowers resting near the balcony doors.
I turned toward him in shock.
“You prepared this already?”
Lucien leaned lightly against the doorway.
“I anticipated your answer.”
That should not have affected me the way it did.
He expected me to sign.
Expected me to stay.
And somehow he prepared all this without even mentioning it earlier.
I slowly walked farther into the room.
The flowers caught my attention again.
White roses.
Fresh.
Beautiful.
“You bought flowers?”
Lucien looked mildly uncomfortable for the first time ever.
“The house staff handled it.”
Interesting.
Very interesting.
I almost smiled slightly.
Lucien Blackwood could negotiate billion dollar deals without blinking but apparently flowers embarrassed him.
Good to know.
“There’s a dressing room through there,” he said calmly pointing toward another door. “The bathroom is attached.”
I nodded slowly.
“This room is bigger than my apartment.”
Lucien looked unconcerned.
“That problem has been solved.”
I stared at him.
“You really say billionaire things casually.”
“That sentence made no sense.”
I laughed softly before I could stop myself.
Again the room became strangely quiet afterward.
Like both of us noticed the sound.
Lucien’s eyes rested on me for a second longer than usual.
Then he looked away first.
“Dinner will arrive shortly.”
“You ordered food?”
“Yes.”
“You planned literally everything.”
“I prefer preparation over chaos.”
I crossed my arms lightly.
“You know, normal people usually ask before moving someone into their penthouse.”
“You signed a contract.”
“There you go again with that answer.”
Lucien looked almost amused.
Almost.
Then suddenly his phone rang.
The atmosphere around him changed instantly.
Colder.
More focused.
He answered calmly.
“Yes.”
Silence followed while he listened.
Then his expression darkened slightly.
“When?”
A pause.
“I want names.”
The temperature in the room somehow dropped immediately.
I watched him carefully.
Dangerous.
That word returned again.
Lucien listened for another moment before ending the call quietly.
“What happened?” I asked.
His eyes shifted toward me.
“Someone leaked your apartment address online.”
My stomach dropped instantly.
“What?”
“The press gathered outside the building less than twenty minutes ago.”
Cold panic slid through my chest.
“My mother.”
Lucien immediately understood.
“She’s already under security supervision.”
I blinked.
“You protected my mother too?”
“You’re connected to me now.”
The words settled strangely inside my chest.
Connected to me now.
Not romantic.
Not emotional.
Yet somehow comforting anyway.
I sat slowly on the edge of the bed.
Everything about my life had changed too fast.
Too suddenly.
Yesterday I was planning a wedding with Nathaniel.
Tonight I was living inside Lucien Blackwood’s penthouse while reporters surrounded my old apartment building.
I pressed my fingers lightly against my forehead.
“I feel like my brain stopped functioning hours ago.”
Lucien watched me quietly for a moment.
Then unexpectedly he walked toward a small cabinet near the wall and poured a glass of water before handing it to me.
“Drink.”
I accepted it slowly.
“Thank you.”
He nodded once.
Simple.
Quiet.
But somehow every small thing he did affected me more than dramatic gestures would have.
Because none of it seemed fake.
Lucien sat across from me in one of the chairs near the windows.
The distance between us suddenly felt smaller inside the quiet room.
“We should discuss boundaries,” he said calmly.
Right.
The contract.
The fake marriage.
Reality again.
I straightened slightly.
“Okay.”
Lucien folded his hands calmly.
“In public, people need to believe this relationship is genuine.”
My stomach tightened slightly.
“What exactly does that involve?”
“Appearances together. Events. Public interaction.”
“And pretending we’re in love.”
Lucien’s expression remained unreadable.
“Yes.”
The word felt heavier than it should have.
I looked down at the glass in my hands.
“This is going to be weird.”
“Probably.”
That answer surprised me slightly.
“You admit it?”
“I’m not delusional.”
I smiled faintly.
Small progress.
Lucien continued calmly.
“You are free to continue your personal life normally.”
I frowned slightly.
“What personal life?”
A pause followed.
Then realization crossed his expression.
Right.
Nathaniel.
The heartbreak hit sharply again for a second before I forced it down.
Lucien noticed anyway.
Of course he did.
“You should rest tonight,” he said quietly.
“I’m not fragile.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
The frustrating part was that his voice held no pity.
Only observation.
Which somehow made it easier to accept.
A soft knock interrupted the silence.
One of the staff members entered pushing a dinner cart inside the room.
The woman looked nervous the second she noticed me.
Not judgmental.
Just curious.
Understandable honestly.
By tomorrow morning every employee here would probably know exactly who I was.
Lucien thanked her quietly before she left again.
I stared after her.
“She seemed scared too.”
“Most people are.”
“Of you?”
“Yes.”
He answered so calmly that I almost forgot how insane this conversation actually was.
I looked toward the dinner tray.
Expensive food.
Beautiful presentation.
Everything perfect.
And suddenly a strange realization hit me.
Lucien Blackwood lived surrounded by luxury, power, employees, security, and attention.
Yet somehow this entire penthouse still felt lonely.
Very lonely.
I looked toward him again quietly.
And for the first time since meeting him, I wondered something dangerous.
Who hurt you badly enough to make you live like this?
- Writer
