Married to the cold billionaire

The Storm Inside (Part One)

The walls of the penthouse seemed colder that evening, despite the fire crackling in the grand marble fireplace. Elena sat rigidly on the velvet couch, her hands clasped tightly on her lap, feeling the heavy weight of silence stretch between her and Adrian.

He hadn’t said a word since they returned from the gala. His jaw was locked tight, his expression unreadable. Elena stole a glance at him. Dressed in a black tailored suit, his tie discarded and his hair slightly tousled, he looked every bit the powerful billionaire the world admired—and every bit the stranger she was now married to.

“You embarrassed me tonight,” Adrian said finally, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

Elena flinched. “I… I only spoke with Mr. Langford for a few minutes. It wasn’t inappropriate—”

“You laughed. With him.” His voice was dangerously calm, but the simmering fury in his steel-gray eyes told her everything he wasn’t saying aloud. “You let him touch your arm.”

Her heart pounded against her ribs. “It was harmless,” she insisted, rising to her feet. “He was just being friendly.”

Adrian stood as well, towering over her. “You’re my wife, Elena,” he said, each word slow and deliberate. “And my wife doesn’t invite attention from other men.”

The possessiveness in his tone startled her. Not once, in their whirlwind marriage, had Adrian ever acted jealous. Cold, yes. Distant, always. But jealousy? It was a side of him she hadn’t expected—and wasn’t sure how to handle.

“I’m not some trophy you can lock away, Adrian,” she said, her voice trembling with anger and something else she couldn’t name. “I’m a person. You can’t control every word I say or every smile I give.”

He stepped closer. “Watch me,” he murmured, his eyes darkening.

For a long moment, neither moved. The fire snapped behind them, shadows flickering across the walls.

Elena’s breath hitched. She knew she should back down—knew it was dangerous to provoke him further. But something stubborn inside her refused to yield.

“You can’t own me,” she whispered.

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “You’re already mine, Elena,” he said, low and raw. “You just haven’t realized it yet.”

The words struck her harder than any shout would have. She staggered back a step, the realization sinking in. This wasn’t just a marriage of convenience anymore, at least not for him.

But whether that was a blessing or a curse… she wasn’t sure.

Before she could reply, Adrian turned sharply and stalked toward the bar, pouring himself a glass of scotch with a heavy hand. His back was to her, his posture rigid. As if the effort to control himself was costing him more than he was willing to admit.

Elena watched him, torn between anger and a twisted sense of heartbreak she didn’t understand.

They were married by contract, by necessity.

Feelings weren’t supposed to be involved.

So why did it hurt so much to see him like this?

She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering despite the fire’s warmth.

Maybe the coldness between them wasn’t just his after all.

Maybe… she was starting to freeze too.