The CEO Unwritten Rule

003 | Golden Cage

​The guest suite was larger than Gisel’s entire apartment. It was decorated in shades of cream and silver, looking more like a high end hotel room than a home. There was no dust, no clutter, and certainly no smell of oil paint. It was perfectly beautiful and utterly soul-dead.

​Gisel sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, her backpack feeling heavy. She had only been in the house for an hour, and the silence was already suffocating.

​She stood up and began to unpack. She pulled out her sketchbook and a set of charcoal pencils, placing them on a glass desk that cost more than her college tuition. If she was going to survive a hundred days in this freezer, she needed to create.

​A sharp knock at the door startled her.

​"Enter," Gisel called out, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

​It was a woman in a grey maid’s uniform, her hair pulled back so tightly it looked painful. She was carrying a series of garment bags.

​"Mr. Dirgantara has requested you change for dinner," the woman said, her voice robotic. "He expects formal attire. There is a guest."

​"A guest? On my first night?" Gisel frowned.

​"His grandmother, Madam Sofia, has arrived unannounced. She wishes to meet the woman who captured her grandson’s heart."

​Gisel felt a cold shiver. The "heart" part was a lie, but the stakes were suddenly very real. She unzipped the garment bag to find a dress that looked like it was spun from moonlight a silk gown in a deep, midnight blue.

​Forty minutes later, Gisel descended the grand staircase. The dress hugged her curves in a way that made her feel exposed yet powerful. As she reached the dining hall, she saw them.

​Adrian was standing by the fireplace, looking impeccable in a tuxedo. Opposite him sat an elderly woman with silver hair and eyes that were just as sharp as Adrian’s. This was Madam Sofia.

​When Adrian saw Gisel, his glass stopped halfway to his lips. For a split second, his "Ice King" mask slipped. His eyes traveled from her messy bun which she had refused to change down to the silk hem of the dress.

​"Gisella," Adrian said, his voice dropping an octave. He walked toward her, offering his arm. "You're just in time."

​Gisel hesitated, then looped her arm through his. His muscles were like iron under the suit jacket.

​"Grandmother," Adrian said, leading her to the table. "This is Gisel. The woman I told you about."

​Madam Sofia didn't smile. She leaned forward, squinting through her spectacles. "An illustrator, Adrian tells me? From the outskirts of the city?"

​"I'm an artist, yes," Gisel said, keeping her voice steady. "And I prefer to think of it as the 'creative heart' of the city, not the outskirts."

​The old woman let out a dry chuckle. "Spirit. I like spirit. But spirit doesn't run a conglomerate, girl. Tell me, what do you see in my grandson? Aside from his bank account, of course."

​The table went silent. Adrian’s grip on Gisel’s arm tightened almost imperceptibly. It was a warning.

​Gisel looked at Adrian. She saw the tension in his jaw and the coldness in his eyes. She thought about the way he had looked at her bloodied finger in the lobby with total indifference.

​"I see a man who is very lonely," Gisel said clearly.

​Adrian stiffened. Madam Sofia’s eyebrows shot up.

​"He surrounds himself with glass and steel so he doesn't have to feel anything," Gisel continued, ignoring Adrian’s narrowing eyes. "I think he invited me here because I’m the only thing in his life that he can't quite predict. And maybe, deep down, he’s tired of being the only person in the room with a pulse."

​Madam Sofia burst into a loud, genuine laugh. "Oh, Adrian! You’ve finally met your match. She sees right through your nonsense."

​Adrian’s expression remained frozen, but his eyes were burning as he looked at Gisel. "Dinner is served," he said curtly, pulling out a chair for her with a bit more force than necessary.

​The rest of the dinner was a blur of expensive wine and Madam Sofia’s interrogations. Gisel navigated the minefield with a mix of honesty and wit, much to Adrian’s silent fury.

​When the grandmother finally retired to her room, Adrian grabbed Gisel’s arm before she could escape to the stairs. He pulled her into the shadows of the hallway.

​"What was that?" he hissed, his face inches from hers. "You were supposed to be a shield, not a psychologist."

​"She asked for my opinion, Adrian. I gave it," Gisel challenged, her chest heaving. "Unless 'honesty' wasn't in the contract?"

​"You overstepped," Adrian snapped. He slammed his hand against the wall next to her head, pinning her in place. "Do not mistake my grandmother’s amusement for safety. If you humiliate me again, I’ll make sure your career isn't just stalled—it will be erased."

​"You love that word, don't you? 'Erased.' 'Liability.' 'Debt,'" Gisel whispered, her heart racing not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of his presence. "But you’re the one who’s afraid. You’re afraid that I’m right."

​Adrian’s gaze dropped to her lips. The air between them crackled with a sudden, unwanted electricity. For a moment, Gisel thought he might actually kiss her just to silence her.

​Instead, he pushed himself away, straightening his jacket.

​"There is one more rule, Gisel," he said, his voice back to its freezing baseline. "The third floor is off-limits. My private study and my bedroom are there. If I ever catch you past the stairs, the contract is void and the lawsuit begins immediately. Sleep well."

​He turned and walked into the darkness of the mansion, leaving Gisel alone. She touched her jaw where his cold energy still seemed to linger.

​She had survived night one. But as she looked up at the forbidden third floor, she realized that the Ice King wasn't just hiding a company he was hiding a secret.