Hating the CEO

Chapter 4: The Rules

Lila's POV

I admired the interior design of my new room. I moved around the room, noticing every detail. The white walk-in closet, the red rug that covered the center of the room, where the bed was. I opened the door which led me to the bathroom. A huge one. The bathroom was 2x bigger than my bedroom back home. Ouch.

The bathtub was wide, the shower head, long and glistening. A tall mirror hung just above the sink.

“Wow,” I muttered. I had never seen a bathroom this big. I stepped out of the bathroom after I was done inspecting.

I opened the door to the walk-in closet and my jaw dropped. Different colors of expensive clothes hung around, variety of brands. The shoe rack was stacked with multiple foot wears, heels, sandals, boots, all looking more expensive than all of my clothes combined.

“What's his problem?” I whispered to myself. I never asked for this. I wasn't clotheless.

I sat on my bed. The room was too big, it was marvelous and luxurious but it didn't feel enjoyable at all. It felt like a cage. The feeling of the mattress beneath me felt unfamiliar. I would have to adapt.

After a while of looking around my new room, I decided to change into something comfortable. Even the thought of changing here felt strange.

I got into my oversized polo shirt and sweatpants. I liked loose, comfortable clothes. Even if my life felt miserable, I needed at least one small comfort.

I closed my bag when I was done dressing up. Then there was a knock on the door. I paused.

“Come in,” I said after a moment.

The door creaked open and Vienna peeked in. I smiled slightly when I saw her.

“Dinner is ready,” she said.

“Oh okay, I'm coming.” I dropped my bag.

She closed the door after confirming. I dropped my Crocs on the floor and slipped my legs in them. I don't know why I was nervous just to eat. I should be, given the circumstances.

I stepped out of the room, surprisingly Vienna was waiting for me outside the door.

“Come,” she whispered and led the way. I followed her, counting my steps in my mind to calm my nerves.

We passed through the living room area, turned left and entered the dining room . It was beautiful. The interior design looked so classy and neat. The black refrigerator complemented the black cabinets, table and chairs. The white tiles gleamed so brightly I could see my reflection.

I didn't finish observing the room before my eyes landed on Xaden seated at the head of the table. I sighed silently.

“Miss Hartley,” Vienna called, pulling out the chair beside Xaden's right hand.

I pressed my lips together and walked towards the chair.

“Thanks,” I sat down on the chair.

Xaden had already started eating, silent and composed.

Vienna walked away, leaving us both in the dining room. I cleared my throat as my eyes scanned the foods on the table. There was a lot. I was impressed but didn't let it show.

I stared at the food before me. It felt so wrong to eat on the same table as him, pretending like everything was going well, felt worse.

“So this is part of the arrangement too? Scheduled meals?” I picked up the knife and fork. My eyes on my steak as I sliced it slowly.

“It's called routine,” he answered after he swallowed.

“Right. Control dressed up as courtesy” I looked at him.

“Eat.” He said curtly, not sparing me a glance. I scoffed. My eyes back on my food.

“You don't get to order me around,”

“I just did.” he stated calmly and my hands paused. I poked my cheek with my tongue in silence, blinked twice then resumed cutting my steak.

“You really enjoy this, don't you?” I picked up a slice of steak with my fork.

“Enjoy what?” He looked at me.

“Watching me sit here like I didn't have a choice.” I said. I knew he did.

“You had a choice,” he said and I chuckled bitterly.

“Don't insult my intelligence,” I replied. Eyes on him. My smile gone. His cutlery clinked on his plate.

“We have our first public dinner tomorrow,” he said, collecting a glass cup of wine and sipping.

“I'm not smiling for cameras,” I said, my voice sharp and demanding.

“You will.” He replied. It was more of a fact than a command.

“No. That wasn't in the contract.” I argued.

“It was implied.” He looked at me.

“Then you should've written it.” I insisted and I saw his eyebrow arch up slightly as he dropped the wine cup.

“Rule reminder.” He said and I scoffed.

“I knew it,” I muttered. I ate another slice of my meat.

“You don't contradict me in public,” his voice low and calm despite the dominance and control it carried.

“So I lie?” I asked.

“So we survive.” He corrected.

“At what cost?” I questioned but got no reply. He quietly ate his food.

“Finish your food.” he said after a while.

“You're unbelievable,” I felt another wave of anger within me.

“You signed.” He said.

That landed straight into my heart. He was right. My heart clenched.

I dropped my fork and looked at him. “You think this makes you powerful.” I said quietly.

“No. Necessary.” He answered, equally quiet.

There was a pause. A pretty long pause. A heavy pause.

“I won't be invisible.” I said confidently, staring at him.

“Then don't make me erase you.” He countered, staring back at me. There was silence. A little smile crept up my lips as I nodded slowly. He was crazy.

He broke eye contact and continued with his food. I stared at the table for a while before picking up my fork. I was the one who signed so I had to deal with it but I won't make him control me.

“There are rules,” he broke the silence.

“I figured.” I said.

“You follow them, this stays simple,” he glanced at me. I had the urge to roll my eyes over to the back of my head.

“And if I don't?” I asked.

“Then it becomes complicated,” he answered. He set his cutlery down, “Rule one, in public we're united. No arguments. No corrections. No visible distance.”

“So I smile and nod like–”

“–like my fiance,” he cuts in. A subtle scoff left my lips.

“That wasn't in the contract,” I objected.

“It’s non-negotiable,” he picked up his cutlery.

“You can't just add rules whenever you feel like it,” I retorted.

“I can.” Xaden said flatly, with no reaction or concern. The whole room remained quiet. It's like he didn't care at all about what I had to say.

“Rule two, our past stays private.” He moved on.

I scoffed to myself. I raised my gaze from my plate to him.

“What past?” I asked like I didn't know.

He looked at me, stared at me. Both of us said nothing. Just a long stare. I finally read his eyes for the first time since our conversation today. It read, ‘we both know what I'm talking about.’ I pressed my lips together.

“Exactly.” He broke eye contact.

“And if someone asks?” I asked.

“You met me recently. You were impressed. You said yes.” He replied with a mutter.

“You want me to erase twelve years?” I raised my voice.

“I want you to survive this year” he stated calmly and I remained quiet. I was already annoyed.

“Rule three–”

“Let me guess, I don't get opinions” I snapped, cutting him off.

“You don't interrupt me.” He looked at me, expressionless.

His voice was sharp. I went still and quiet. It was the first time he spoke so sharply. I was taken back by how much authority he spoke with.

“Not when I'm protecting you,” he added.

“Don’t pretend this is about protection,” my voice was quiet but furious.

“Then don't pretend you're not afraid.” He shot back.

I froze. No words were able to come out from my mouth. He got me. I was afraid.

“Rule four, no unscheduled exits. No disappearing acts.” he stated.

“So I'm trapped.” I argued.

“So I know where my fiance is.” He looks back at his food and resumes eating.

“Eat. We have a long year.” he said.

We became silent, only the clinks of cutleries echoed in the room. I finished my meal out of spite instead of hunger. When I was done, I pushed the plate away.

I stood.

“Tomorrow starts early.” Xaden said without looking at me.

“I didn't ask,” I replied.

“You don't have to.” He finally lifted his gaze. “A stylist arrives at seven. Hair, wardrobe, briefing. You'll be presentable by eight.”

My fingers curled at my sides. “I didn't agree to be dressed like a doll. Also with those clothes in my room, I never asked for it.”

“You agreed to be my wife.” His tone stayed even. “Public image matters.”

I had nothing to say.

“And my schedule?”

He reached for his phone, sliding across the table without standing. The screen turned on.

A full itinerary.

Breakfast appearance. Midday charity board introduction. Evening donor dinner. Every hour accounted for.

“You planned my life in one afternoon?” I asked quietly.

“I planned contingencies months ago,” he corrected.

I laughed, sharp and hollow, “of course you did.”

“Vienna will walk you back,” he said, dismissing the conversation.

I turned on my heel before he could see the anger crack my composure. The hallway felt longer when heading back. Vienna waited near the corridor with a tablet in her hand.

“Tomorrow's schedule will be sent to your phone,” she told me gently. “The stylist will need your sizes. If you prefer trousers over dresses, note it now.”

I stopped. That surprised her. It looks like she knew about the contract marriage.

“You already know,” I said flatly.

She didn't deny it.

My room door slid open. I stepped inside, pausing once.

“So if I refuse?” I asked.

“Refuse what?” Vienna asked.

“The schedules,” I replied and she met my eyes. I knew I sounded dumb to her. I was the one who signed the contract and here I was trying to avoid the duties it came with.

“Then Mr. Vale will adjust accordingly.” She answered.

The door close behind her when she left the room. I walked to the window, the city stood below like freedom that was out of reach.

Stylist. Schedules. Appearances. This wasn't a contract anymore.

It was a system and I was already part of it.