Chapter 19 – Sharing the Same Bed

The Blackwell mansion was cloaked in quiet. Outside, the storm pressed against the tall glass windows, the steady rhythm of rain matching the low hum of thunder in the distance. Elena sat cross-legged on a velvet chaise in her private room, sketchbook balanced on her knees. She wasn’t designing tonight — not officially — but doodles had a way of slipping out of her pencil when her mind refused to settle.

She frowned at the lines forming on the page. Dresses again. Always dresses. She quickly closed the book before she stared too long at the truth bleeding through her anonymity. The last thing she needed was Adrian stumbling in and asking questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

The thought alone made her scoff. Adrian Blackwell didn’t stumble. He glided like he owned the air itself.

And yet… when the heavy door creaked open, his presence felt heavier than usual. Elena looked up, startled, as Adrian leaned against the frame of her sitting room. His tie was missing, his shirt undone at the collar, his gray eyes darker than usual. He looked… restless.

“You’re still awake?” Elena asked cautiously.

“You are too.” His voice was even, but softer than she expected. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Couldn’t sleep.” She shrugged, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Storm’s too loud.”

Adrian’s gaze lingered on her sketchbook, but he didn’t mention it. Instead, he crossed the room slowly, as if deciding something with every step. Finally, he stopped in front of her.

“Elena,” he said, his tone clipped, deliberate. “From tonight, you’ll sleep in my room.”

The words dropped like stones between them.

Elena blinked, certain she’d misheard. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He straightened, hands in his pockets. “You’ll be moving into my room. Tonight.”

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. “I—what? Since when do you get to order where I sleep?”

His jaw tightened. “We’re married. Married couples share a bed. It’s not unreasonable.”

“Not unreasonable?” Elena shot up from the chaise, her robe swishing around her ankles. “Since when have you cared about what married couples do? Don’t tell me you’re suddenly sentimental.”

His gaze didn’t waver, though a flicker of irritation passed through his eyes. “This isn’t about sentiment.”

“Then what is it about?” She folded her arms. “Control? Embarrassed that the staff might gossip because the great Adrian Blackwell sleeps alone while his wife hides in the guest wing?”

“Elena—”

“No,” she cut in, her voice sharp. “You don’t get to barge in here at midnight and dictate where I sleep just because you snapped your fingers.”

Adrian’s silence stretched, thick and heavy. He wasn’t the type to explain himself — not to her, not to anyone. But tonight, there was something raw in his gaze, something unsettled.

Finally, he said quietly, “You’ll sleep better.”

Elena froze. The words were too strange, too soft for the Adrian she knew. Sleep better? She opened her mouth, ready to demand what he meant, but the storm outside roared, rattling the windows. Adrian’s eyes held hers with quiet intensity, and for once, she couldn’t read him.

After a long beat, she sighed, exasperated. “Fine. But don’t think I’m doing this because you ordered it. I’ll sleep in your room tonight, and if I hate it, I’m moving back. End of discussion.”

Something flickered across his face — amusement, maybe, though it vanished quickly. He simply inclined his head. “Agreed.”

---

The master bedroom was vast, elegant, and intimidating. Dark wood, sleek lines, floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed the storm-tossed night. Elena stepped inside, arms folded tightly across her chest. Adrian followed, silent, his presence filling the space.

She marched to the far side of the bed, throwing back the covers with a dramatic huff. “Don’t even think about crowding me. This side’s mine.”

Adrian arched a brow. “You’re assuming I’d want to crowd you.”

“You’re assuming you wouldn’t,” she shot back, climbing into the cool sheets.

His lips curved slightly, the ghost of a smirk, before he turned away to loosen his shirt further. Elena tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to notice the sharp lines of his shoulders, the way even exhaustion couldn’t diminish his composure.

He slid into bed on his side, movements controlled, precise. For a moment, the space between them felt like an entire ocean. Elena lay stiffly, staring at the ceiling, determined not to let the silence swallow her.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered under her breath.

“Sleep,” he replied curtly.

She rolled her eyes. “Bossy even in bed. Wonderful.”

But as minutes stretched into an hour, Elena found herself glancing sideways. Adrian’s breathing had slowed, deep and even. His arm rested loosely across the sheets, his usually sharp expression softened in sleep.

Her chest tightened unexpectedly. For the first time since she’d met him, Adrian Blackwell didn’t look untouchable. He looked human. Vulnerable.

She shifted slightly, careful not to wake him. But the movement caused his head to turn unconsciously toward her, as if his body instinctively sought her presence. His shoulder brushed hers faintly, and Elena froze.

Her heartbeat quickened, but not from fear. Something unfamiliar twisted in her stomach, something she didn’t want to name.

“Unbelievable,” she whispered, half to herself. “Even asleep, you act like you own the bed.”

He didn’t stir. His lips parted slightly, his breathing steady.

Elena lay awake, staring at him in the dim light filtering through the curtains. She wanted to be annoyed, to push him back to his side. Instead, she found herself studying him, tracing the lines of his jaw, the faint tension that lingered even in rest.

And against her better judgment, her voice softened.

“You’re not nearly as invincible as you think, Adrian Blackwell.”

He didn’t hear her. He was already far gone, lost in the deep sleep that had eluded him for years.

Elena sighed, settling back against the pillows. Her thoughts tangled between irritation and confusion, until finally, sleep tugged at her too.

When morning came, she would deny it — but for now, in the quiet storm-lit room, Adrian Blackwell slept peacefully beside her. And Elena, despite herself, felt something shift.

Something she couldn’t control.

Something neither of them could.