Marked Territory
989 Words
Eva’s feet remained planted on the kitchen floor, her body tensed like a wire pulled too tight.
The stranger in silk heels turned fully toward her, giving her a once-over that left nothing to the imagination. Judgment coated her stare like perfume.
“You’re prettier than I expected,” the woman said, a smooth smile playing on her lips. “But then again, Andre always did enjoy fragile things.”
Eva's heart beat louder in her ears.
“I asked who you are,” she said again, quieter now, but sharper.
The woman set her coffee down gently, as if this was her house. “Selene Moreau. I’m… an old friend.”
“Friend?” Eva repeated, her voice dry.
“Among other things.” Selene’s smile grew. “But I suppose I’m outdated now. Replaced. Married out of the picture.”
She moved closer, heels echoing on the marble. “Tell me, Eva, does he kiss you like he means it, or does he just sign off with a nod after a performance?”
Eva blinked, throat suddenly dry.
Before she could find the right words, Andre’s voice sliced into the air like ice.
“Selene. You’re not supposed to be here.”
He was standing in the doorway now, shirtless, towel around his neck. Drops of water clung to his collarbone, his chest still damp from a shower. His eyes, however, were completely dry. And furious.
Selene’s lips curved. “You didn’t change the door code.”
“That doesn’t mean I invited you,” Andre said, stepping between them now.
Eva could feel his body heat from how close he stood.
“Eva, go get dressed,” he said, without looking at her.
She didn’t move. “I’d rather stay.”
Andre turned his head slightly, and his eyes met hers. His jaw clenched, but something flickered beneath it. Not annoyance. Not anger.
Possession.
“Eva,” he said again, low and steady. “Go.”
For a moment, she didn’t want to obey. But she also knew this wasn’t her battle to fight—not yet. With one last glance at Selene, she left the kitchen.
Her hands trembled as she closed the bedroom door behind her.
Andre didn’t speak right away. He poured himself coffee with slow, deliberate calm, but his silence was taut like a leash stretched too far.
Selene leaned against the counter, unbothered.
“You used to like it when I surprised you,” she said.
“I also used to like the quiet,” Andre replied coolly.
Selene laughed softly. “She’s cute. A bit... soft, but cute.”
Andre didn’t answer. He took a sip of coffee.
“She doesn’t know, does she?”
His eyes snapped to her. “Know what?”
“How deep you run. What you do when the lights go off. What’s buried under all this glass and money.”
Andre said nothing.
Selene smirked. “Oh, Andre. You’re pretending again. Pretending you don’t want to ruin her. That you didn’t choose someone sweet just so you could watch her break.”
“Leave,” he said quietly, dangerously. “Now.”
Selene lifted her hands in surrender, sliding past him with a sway of her hips. “Be careful. Fragile things tend to crack when the heat rises.”
The door clicked behind her, and she was gone.
But her words lingered, like smoke.
Eva didn’t come down for lunch.
She stayed in her room, curled beneath the sheets, wondering who the hell she had just married.
Andre hadn’t explained who Selene was. Hadn’t offered anything. Just ordered her away like a piece of his furniture.
Part of her burned with anger. The other part burned for answers.
When she finally opened the door late in the afternoon, a soft knock nearly made her jump.
Andre stood there, leaning on the frame with his hands in his pockets.
“May I come in?”
She stepped aside.
He walked in slowly, like he was calculating every move, every word. “I apologize for this morning.”
“Who is she?” Eva asked immediately, voice firm. “And don’t tell me she’s just an associate.”
Andre’s mouth tightened.
“She was… part of my past. It’s over.”
“That’s not a real answer,” Eva whispered. “Why was she here, Andre?”
“She used to have access. That was a mistake I’ve corrected now.”
Eva stared at him. “And what about me? Am I a mistake too?”
His eyes snapped to hers.
“No,” he said. One word. Sharp. Certain.
She stepped toward him. “Because right now, I feel like one. You talk to me like I’m furniture. You hand me rules like I’m a soldier. And now I find out your ex can just waltz into your penthouse while I’m making coffee?”
Andre didn’t flinch. But his eyes flickered.
“You’re not a mistake,” he said again, softer this time.
“Then treat me like I matter. Even if this marriage is fake. Even if you don't want love. I still deserve respect.”
Silence stretched between them like a pulled thread.
Then Andre stepped forward — slow, deliberate — until there was barely space between them.
“You want me to treat you like you matter?” he murmured.
Eva didn’t back down. “Yes.”
His gaze dropped to her lips. His jaw flexed once.
And then his hand came up — not rough, not cruel — just brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
“You matter more than you should,” he whispered. “And that’s the problem.”
Eva’s breath caught. His fingers lingered against her skin just long enough to burn.
Then he turned and walked out without another word.
Leaving her trembling in a way she didn’t understand — and wasn’t ready for.
- Writer
