Richard's Pov

The car pulled up silently in front of the mansion.The engine cut, and I stepped forward, letting her take in the full view.

Audrey Ramen stepped out,every inch of her screamed awareness. Straight-backed, poised, moving like she was walking into a battlefield instead of a marriage. Dangerous.

Her eyes flicked to me, sharp, measuring. No fear. No hesitation. Perfect. That fire in her gaze told me she knew exactly who she was dealing with.

"Mr. Drake," she said, voice controlled.

"Miss Ramen," I replied evenly. No warmth, no smiles. Not here. Not ever.

I stepped aside, letting her walk in first. "Your room has been prepared. Unpack what you need. Dinner is in two hours."

Her jaw tightened slightly. That tiny spark of defiance didn't escape me. Good. Calm, sharp, calculating.

"I assume I will be free to-" she started.

"No questions. No interference," I cut her off. Low, firm, precise. "Your orders are clear. You comply. That is all."

Her eyes didn't waver. "Understood."

We walked through the hallways, staff quietly observing in the background. Every step she took was deliberate, measured, eyes flicking to corners, to doors, to me. Observing. Testing. I let her think she had a little control. She didn't.

At her room, I stopped. "East wing. Off-limits to everything else. Staff have been instructed. You follow instructions. Any deviation, and you leave."

She nodded once, chin high. That subtle spark of defiance again. Dangerous, but intriguing.

---

Dinner was quiet. Staff moved like shadows, leaving us space. She sat across from me, posture straight, eyes alert. Every movement is deliberate.

"Eat. Follow the house rules. Speak only when spoken to," I instructed.

"Yes, sir," she replied. Calm, precise, measured-but that faint undercurrent of challenge didn't escape me.

I watched her chew slowly, taking in the room, the staff, the house, and me. Observing, weighing, planning. Perfect. Defensive-but curious. Dangerous.

When the meal ended, I gave her a brief tour-not to impress, not to intimidate, but to define boundaries.

Returning to the study, I replayed every detail: her movements, her posture, the calm fire in her eyes. She's clever. Sharp. Observant. And I hated that I was already thinking about her.

Richard's Pov

The city lights blurred beneath the tinted windows as I drove. The mansion felt suffocating, and I wanted air, distance, clarity.

My mind refused to stop replaying Audrey-the sharp glance, the chin lifted, the subtle defiance that irritated and intrigued me in equal measure. I needed to think. Clear my head. And there was only one person who could help me do that, one person who understood exactly how to undo the tension building inside me.

The hotel lobby which i owned was nearly empty, the kind of sterile quiet I preferred. I moved through it with the confidence of a man who knew every angle, every exit, every hidden camera. Security followed discreetly, but I didn't need them yet. Not tonight.

Room 807. I keyed in the code. The suite smelled faintly of expensive linen and lingering perfume. I left my coat on the chair, boots kicking off softly.

I picked up my phone and called. Her number.

"Davina," I said when she answered. Low, controlled, almost neutral.

"Yes?" Her voice carried just the right amount of curiosity, just enough to show she knew I didn't call for small talk.

"I want you at Room 807 in thirty minutes," I instructed. "Wear something sexy. Not casual. Leave your attitude at the door."

A pause. "As you wish, sir."

I hung up and leaned against the window, watching the city stretch beneath me. Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes to unload, to clear my head. Thirty minutes to remind myself that Audrey was irrelevant here-just a business arrangement. That I could separate emotion from strategy.

The door clicked, and she stepped in. Davina. Confidence in every step, elegance in every line, and that familiar spark in her eyes that had once been my obsession. She wore exactly what I requested-sexy, commanding, everything designed to remind me who controlled the situation.

We didn't speak immediately. The tension was heavy, the kind that made your skin tight, made your body respond before your mind even knew what was happening.

I didn't give her time to speak.

I pulled her toward me. Hard. She stumbled slightly but didn't protest-she never did. She knew why I called her.

"This is not a discussion," I said firmly. "You're here because I need you."

She looked up at me with that familiar smile. Confident. Expecting this.

I pushed her back against the door, crowding her space, making sure she understood the tone. This wasn't affection. It wasn't romance. It was control and release-nothing more.

She nodded once. Silent. Compliant.

I moved her toward the bed without slowing down. There was no tenderness in it, no hesitation. We both knew each other too well for that. This was something we had done before-many times-and neither of us pretended it meant anything.

The intimacy was rough, fast, and deliberate. No emotions involved. No promises. Just bodies, heat, and familiarity.

------

The suite was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. We lay side by side, not touching, not speaking, just letting the silence stretch between us. My mind, for once, was uncluttered. For now.

She finally turned toward me, a smirk dancing at the corner of her lips. "I heard you got married," she said, tone light, teasing, but with an edge that made me tighten my jaw.

I didn't answer immediately. Silence, patience, calculation. Then I leaned back against the headboard, eyes narrowing. "Marriage?" My voice was flat, controlled. "It's business. Nothing more."

Her gaze sharpened. "Business? You're enjoying it too much to call it that, Drake."

I let a corner of my lips twitch. "I said it's business," I repeated. Clear. Cold. Final.

She laughed softly, a sound that still irritated me, still ignited a spark I hated admitting existed. "Business," she echoed, leaning back. "I'll remember that."

I didn't respond. Because I didn't need to. Words could be twisted. Rules could be broken. But right now, Audrey didn't exist in this room. In this moment, it was just Davina, strategy, and control.

And that was exactly how I wanted it.

Audrey's Pov

By morning, the mansion felt too quiet.

I woke up early, not because I wanted to, but because my body refused to rest in a place that didn't feel like mine. The bed was soft, the room luxurious, but comfort didn't always mean peace.

Breakfast was already set by the time I walked into the dining area. The staff greeted me politely, efficiently, like I was a guest instead of a wife.

I sat down, stared at the food for a moment, then finally asked, "Is... Mr. Drake around?"

One of the staff bowed slightly. "He left early, ma'am. He's already at work."

Of course he was.

I nodded and ate in silence, my thoughts louder than the room. When breakfast ended, the day stretched endlessly ahead of me. I wandered the library, picked up books I barely read, scrolled through my phone, called friends who asked too many questions I couldn't answer.

Time dragged.

By nightfall, the mansion was still quiet. Too quiet.

I checked the time again. 11:47 p.m.

I should have gone to bed. I knew that. But something kept me rooted to the sitting room, curled on the couch with a book resting uselessly on my lap.

When the front door finally opened, I jolted upright.

Richard walked in like he owned the night itself-jacket draped over his arm, expression unreadable, eyes sharp even at this hour. He stopped when he saw me.

"You're still awake," he said.

I stood slowly. "You came home late."

His eyes darkened.

"And?"

The single word felt like a warning, but I ignored it. "I was just wondering," I said, genuinely. "You work this late every-"

"That's not your concern."

The coldness in his voice hit harder than I expected.

"I didn't ask to control you," I replied, my tone tightening. "I asked because I'm here. Because I'm your-"

"Don't finish that sentence."

He stepped closer, his presence heavy, dominating. "This marriage is a contract. Nothing more. You don't ask where I go. You don't wait for me. You don't concern yourself with my schedule."

I felt heat rise in my chest.

"And what exactly is my role then?" I asked, crossing my arms. "To exist quietly in your house and pretend you're not human?"

His jaw flexed.

"You exist because the contract demands it," he said. "Don't confuse permission with intimacy."

Something snapped.

"I didn't beg to be here," I shot back. "And I'm not your employee. If you expect silence, you married the wrong woman."

The room went still.

For a moment, I thought he might explode. Instead, his lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile.

"Careful, Audrey," he said quietly. "Test my boundaries again, and you won't like the outcome."

I met his gaze, refusing to step back.

"Then stop pretending you're the only one trapped here."

Silence.

His eyes burned into mine-calculating, restrained, unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

Leaving the air thick with tension.

And me standing there, heart racing, knowing one thing for certain-

This contract was already cracking.