Signed to Obey

the theft

Eden’s POV

I’d been barricaded in my room all morning, sprawled across the bed like I was staging a one-woman rebellion. The silk sheets were too smooth, too perfect—a constant reminder I was a guest in Cassian Wolfe’s cold, gilded world.

My phone—cracked screen, stubborn battery—was my only tether to who I was before I signed my life away. I opened the dating app, not because I wanted a man, but because I needed to feel like I still had a pulse. Something to drown out the image of Clarissa Milton’s perfect smile, her manicured hands too close to him, her voice probably purring his name like a spell.

Swipe, swipe, swipe.

Left, left, right.

A blur of faces—guys with gym selfies, guys with fake-deep quotes, guys who thought a dog pic was a personality.

It wasn’t about them. It was about me, clawing back a shred of control after last night’s humiliation, when I’d let myself care—let myself feel the burn of jealousy over a man who saw me as a contract clause.

My thumb paused on a guy with a crooked grin and a bio that read, “Here for trouble and late-night tacos.”

I smirked. Trouble sounded right.

I swiped right, a middle finger to Cassian’s world.

The door flew open.

No knock, just Cassian storming in like he owned my thoughts.

His suit was sharp, his face sharper, but his eyes held something new—worry, maybe, though he’d rather choke than admit it.

“Eden,” he said, voice low, slicing through the air. “You’ve been in here all day.”

I didn’t look up, swiping left on a guy with a fish pic so cliché it hurt.

“Didn’t know you were keeping a leash on me, Wolfe. Should I check in hourly?”

He didn’t answer, just stood there, his presence heavy, like a storm holding its breath.

I swiped again, right this time, on a guy with messy hair and a vibe that screamed not Cassian.

The app’s ding cut through the silence, and I felt his gaze burn into me like a brand.

“Are you unwell?” he asked, tone clipped—but there was a c***k in it, something that wasn’t just his usual ice.

I looked up, leaning back on my elbows, my phone glowing in my hand.

He stood in the doorway, rigid, his eyes searching me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t c***k.

It was almost human—and it pissed me off.

“I’m fine,” I said, my smirk sharp. “Just… browsing. Since I’m not exactly living a fairy tale here.”

I tilted my phone toward him, the dating app open, a guy’s profile glaring back.

I wanted to see if he’d flinch, to remind myself I wasn’t his to control.

But when his eyes hit the screen, something shifted.

His face stayed still, but his gaze darkened—like a shadow swallowing light.

“Browsing,” he repeated, voice low, dangerous, like he was tasting the word and finding it bitter.

“Yup.”

I swiped right again, slow, deliberate, letting the ding hit like a jab.

“You get to play secret meetings with Clarissa, I get to play… this. What’s good for the goose, right?”

He moved fast, closing the distance in two steps, his presence suffocating.

“You’re wasting your time.”

“Am I?”

I stood, meeting his gaze, chin tilted up, defiance burning through me.

“Because it feels like I’m taking back something you don’t get to own. You bought my time, Cassian—not my soul.”

His eyes locked on mine, and for a split second, I saw it—jealousy, raw and sharp, flashing behind that cold mask.

It was gone fast, but it was enough to make my heart stutter.

He was jealous.

Cassian Wolfe, the man who didn’t feel, was standing in my room, unraveling because I was swiping on strangers.

“You think this is a game?” he said, voice so quiet it was almost a growl, stepping closer until the air between us crackled.

“You think you can just… what? Find someone else to play your little rebellion with while you’re in my house?”

I laughed, sharp and bitter, but my pulse was racing.

“You don’t get to act like you care. You made it clear—this is business. No feelings, no strings. So why does it bother you if I’m on a dating app?”

He didn’t answer.

His eyes flicked to my phone, then back to me.

And that’s when I saw it—a flicker of something raw.

Not just anger.

Vulnerability, maybe. Or something close enough to make my chest tighten.

And then he moved.

His hand shot out, snatching my phone from my grip with a speed that left me stunned.

My jaw dropped as he swiped through the screen, his fingers moving with cold precision.

Before I could react, he tapped, held, and deleted the app—

The icon vanishing like a piece of me he’d decided to erase.

“What the hell?” I snapped, lunging for my phone, but he held it high, out of reach, his eyes burning into mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.

“Give it back, Cassian!”

He didn’t.

He just stood there, my phone in his hand, gaze locked on mine.

And for a moment, I saw it again—a c***k in his ice.

A flash of something human in those dark eyes.

It wasn’t anger.

Wasn’t control.

It was something softer, something that looked like it hurt him as much as it hurt me.

Then, like a switch flipped, he tossed the phone onto the bed.

His face shut down.

The softness gone.

“You don’t need distractions,” he said, voice ice-cold, cutting through the moment like a blade.

“You’re here to do a job.”

I stared at him, chest heaving, hands shaking with fury—and something I refused to name.

“You don’t get to do that,” I said, voice low, trembling but sharp.

“You don’t get to storm in here, take my choices, and then act like I’m just a clause in your contract. I’m not your property, Cassian.”

He didn’t respond.

Just looked at me, eyes unreadable, like he was locking himself away again.

“Stay off the apps,” he said finally.

Tone flat. Final.

“They’re beneath you.”

He turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving me standing there, phone on the bed, the room too quiet, too heavy.

I wanted to scream.

To throw something.

To chase after him and demand he explain why he cared.

Instead, I picked up my phone, stared at the empty space where the app had been, and let my fingers hover over the screen.

I didn’t redownload it.

Not because he told me not to.

But because, for the first time, I wasn’t sure I wanted to fight him anymore.

---

Cassian’s POV

She was going to break me.

I walked out of her room, my pulse a traitor, pounding like I’d just crossed a line I couldn’t uncross.

Snatching her phone.

Deleting that damn app.

It was reckless. Impulsive. Nothing like me.

But seeing her swipe through profiles, her fingers moving with that defiant ease, had snapped something in me.

Something I’d buried deep.

Something I didn’t let breathe.

Jealousy.

It was raw, ugly, undeniable.

I’d seen it in her last night—when she’d thrown Clarissa’s name at me like a weapon.

And now it was mine, burning in my chest at the thought of her choosing someone else. Laughing with someone else.

Giving her fire to some i***t who didn’t deserve it.

I’d taken her phone because I couldn’t stop myself.

Because the sight of her—sprawled on the bed, eyes flashing with hurt she hid behind that sharp tongue—had done something to me.

Something I didn’t want to name.

And when I’d looked at her, standing there, defiant but vulnerable, her gaze meeting mine like a challenge…

I’d seen it.

A c***k in her armor that mirrored my own.

For a moment, I’d wanted to reach for her.

To hold her.

To make her see she didn’t need those strangers.

Stupid.

I leaned against the wall in the hallway, hands clenched, breath uneven.

Three months.

That’s all it had been.

Three months of her voice slicing through my silence.

Her presence turning my house into a warzone.

Three months of her making me question everything I’d built—control, distance, order.

The dating app was a gut punch.

A reminder that she wasn’t mine—not really.

She was here because of a deal.

A necessity.

A signature on a page.

But seeing her swipe…

Seeing her consider a life beyond me made me want to claim her in a way I had no right to.

I’d deleted the app because I couldn’t stand the thought of her with someone else.

Not because I could control her—I knew better than that.

But because the idea of someone else having her made my blood run cold.

I straightened, forced my breathing to steady, my face to harden.

This was a mistake.

A lapse.

I didn’t feel.

I didn’t soften.

I didn’t let anyone in.

But as I walked back to my study, the memory of her eyes—wide, raw, burning with something she wouldn’t name—lingered.

Sharp and dangerous.

Like a spark I didn’t know how to smother.