Chapter 2

• Chapter 2: The Contract Wife
• ELENA POV
• With a gentle chime, the elevator doors opened, exposing Adrian Blackwood's penthouse. As I entered the vast room, which was very different from the dilapidated flat I had left behind, my breath caught.
• The brilliant metropolitan skyline was framed by floor-to-ceiling windows, giving me the impression that the world was just outside my door. The space had a stark, even inhospitable feel to it thanks to sleek furnishings in subdued shades of gray and black. It was indeed lovely, but as chilly as the guy who owned it.
• Adrian walked out behind me and stated, "Your room is down the hall," in a curt voice. "The second left door."
• I grabbed my bag's strap and turned to face him. "I'm grateful."
• He crossed the living room without answering, started untying his tie. He walked with the dexterity of someone who owned the room, everything in it, and everyone in it.
• With my heels muffled by the soft carpet, I walked down the hall and pushed open my room's door. With immaculate white walls, a king-sized bed with immaculate sheets, and a walk-in closet larger than my kitchen, it was bigger than my whole apartment.
• I took a deep breath and placed my luggage on the bed. For the following year, this was my new existence. Luxurious, fantastical, and very unlike from anything I had ever experienced.
• At supper that night, the rules were presented as orderly as the cutlery on the table.
• Adrian said, sounding as impersonal as if he were talking about a business merger, "We will maintain separate living spaces." "My room is mine; yours is yours. No exclusions.
• I said, "Understood," as I prodded the well cooked steak on my plate.
• As my wife, you will go with me to all public gatherings. No changes to the script. Our partnership has to seem genuine.
• Even though the idea of cameras and questioning made my stomach turn, I agreed.
• A monthly stipend will be available to you for personal use. Make good use of it.
• His piercing, evaluating eyes darted to me as if he dared me to voice my displeasure.
• I looked him in the eye and replied, "I'm not here to shop."
• His lips twitched at the corner, but it wasn't a grin. "Well done."
• His posture was as stiff as the chair he was sitting in, and he slumped back. Additionally, Elena, prudence is crucial. If there is any departure from our agreement, the deal is null and invalid. Does it make sense?
• I tried to ignore the knot that was becoming tighter in my chest as I said, "Crystal."
• Weeks passed, each one characterized by the unrelenting routine of Adrian's home life. I felt like an outsider in my own life, even if the penthouse was a castle.
• I was left to walk the quiet hallways by myself while Adrian was either at work or locked in his office. I made an effort to establish a pattern, reading in the vast library and running in the private gym, but the place's emptiness bothered me.
• Our public appearances were a very other matter.
• The first occasion was a charity gala, and I was dazzled by the brightness of photographers as soon as we got out of the vehicle. Adrian put his hand on the small of my back in a way that felt like a leash yet seemed kind to onlookers.
• "Elena, please smile," he said, so softly that only I could hear.
• Even though it hurt my cheeks, I faked a grin.
• The questions were quick and to the point.
• "How did you two get together?"
• "How does it feel to be married to one of the city's wealthiest men?"
• "Are you going to have children soon?"
• With calculating charm, Adrian responded to each one, and as I stumbled, he tightened his arm around my waist.
• He dismissed an inquiry regarding my history with a suave "she's still adjusting." "But I have no doubt that she will succeed."
• Ironically, given how seldom we spoke outside of these occasions, he had a lot of faith in me.
• Our encounters were excruciatingly awkward behind closed doors. His remarks were as calculated as his moves, and he was courteous yet aloof. I once brought him coffee when he was working late in his office in an attempt to close the distance.
• Without raising his eyes from his laptop, he murmured, "Thank you."
• Unsure whether to say anything more, I stood at the doorway. "Are you ever able to take a break?"
• Then he looked at me, his face inscrutable. "If I can avoid it, no."
• Like so many conversations, it stopped there.
• It was more difficult to ignore the tension between us, however. Beneath the surface, it boiled, unsaid but tangible. His dark, unfathomable eyes would sometimes linger on me when he thought I wasn't looking. And sometimes, the atmosphere between us seemed tense, like a storm about to erupt, when he stood too near.
• The façade broke down at one of those difficult times.
• As I fiddled with the zipper on my dress, Adrian adjusted his cufflinks in the mirror as we got ready for another gala.
• His voice was gentler than normal as he said, "Do you need help?"
• I responded, "I got it," but the zipper would not budge.
• He turned me gently by the shoulders and walked across the room without saying anything. As he pushed the zipper up, his fingertips stroked my back, and I stopped, the air between us suddenly dense.
• "There," he replied, taking a step back. However, his hands lingered for a little too long, and as I glanced up, I saw something in his eyes that I couldn't make out.
• Weeks later, one night was the tipping moment.
• Adrian's harsh, clipped voice awakened me up, followed by another person's anxious, muffled voice. I got out of bed out of curiosity and went over to his office.
• The door was open, and I paused, feeling guilty about listening in.
• Adrian said, "I don't care what it takes." "I want to bury this. Nobody is able to know.
• After a pause, the second speaker said, quickly and in a low tone.
• "Adrian, it's not that easy. If this is discovered...
• The floor creaked under my foot as I bent closer, trying to hear.
• The voices ceased.
• "Elena?" Adrian's voice was piercing and authoritative.
• The door opened and my heart sprang into my throat. A shudder ran down my spine as he stood there, his face a mask of anger and something more.
• He shouted, "What are you doing here?"
• "I—" My mind was racing for an explanation as I stumbled.
• He didn't wait for my response, however. He moved in closer, shadowing me with his massive form.
• His voice was dangerously low as he replied, "You'll forget whatever you think you heard if you value the terms of our agreement."
• The weight of his warning hung over me like a noose, and as I looked into his eyes, my heart pounded in my ears.
• "Adrian, what are you concealing?" Before I could stop myself, the words slipped out of my mouth in a murmur.
• His mask came off for the first time since I'd met him. And instead of wrath, I saw terror in his eyes.
• His voice was like ice when he ordered, "Go back to bed, Elena."
• One notion, however, lingered
• in my thoughts as I turned to go.
• Even Adrian Blackwood would have been terrified by the size of whatever he was concealing.