Chapter 3: Signing the Papers

“This is really happening. I’m actually doing this.”

The morning sunlight cut through the windows of the penthouse, reflecting off the polished surfaces It should have felt luxurious, like a dream I’d walked into but all I felt was dread.

Today, the blindest of my impulses was becoming official or to say Legal and irrevocable.

I sat on the edge of the sofa, my knees bouncing like they had a mind of their own. The folder on the coffee table stared back at me, my fingers trembling nervously, and running didn’t even make sense; there was nowhere to run to. This was Adrian’s world now. And apparently… my life, too.

Adrian appeared from the kitchen, dressed in a suit as if he had been born in it. His presence filled the silent room without him even speaking making my heart pound.

“You look nervous,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing.

“I..I'm not,” I lied, straightening my back and pretending to adjust my hair. “Totally calm. Just… ready.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ready.” The single word made me swallow hard. He didn’t look at all nervous. Not a flicker of doubt in those dark, calculating eyes.

I wanted to punch him.

The folder lay open on the table between us. Inside: the marriage documents, neatly arranged and legal-looking, with signatures to be signed and formalities to observe.

I picked up the pen, but my hand wavered.

“You know,” Adrian said, leaning closer just slightly, “I could make this easier for you.”

I blinked. “Easier?”

“Sign nothing. Walk away. Forget all of this,” he said, watching me carefully. His tone was serious now, almost vulnerable, and I felt a pang of something I didn’t want to admit something like… regret?

I shook my head. “No.… I don’t want that. Even if I was scared, I want to do this.”

He studied me silently, his gaze intense enough that I felt exposed, like he could see every fear, every doubt, every secret hope I had hidden in my chest.

“Very well,” he said finally, pulling out a pen from his inner pocket. “Shall we make it official?”

I nodded, gripping my pen so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My heart pounded in my ears.

As we began the formalities, there was a strange energy in the room, there was no one else here, no witnesses except the hum of the air conditioning, and us.

I tried not to think about how absurd it was: signing a marriage contract with a man I’d met two nights ago, a man who had smiled at my impulsive proposal like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Adrian was meticulous. Calm. Every line, every signature, every initial he made was precise, controlled. Watching him, I realized he was… terrifyingly perfect and I hated it.

“Done,” he said, finally setting his pen down. His dark eyes met mine, and for a moment, there was silence. Just the quiet click of the pen hitting the table.

I stared at him. “Done?” I asked, breathless.

He nodded. “Done legally, emotionally… we’ll see.”

I wanted to scream ,laugh, cry, anything. Instead, I just exhaled shakily and leaned back against the sofa, feeling the enormity of what I’d done.

“Congratulations,” he said softly, almost like a whisper meant only for me. “You’re officially Mrs. Adrian Kingsley.”

I froze. Mrs. Adrian Kingsley. The words sounded foreign, surreal, like a title I had no right to claim.

And then… he did something I wasn’t expecting. He reached out, his fingers brushing mine lightly as he handed me a copy of the documents. The contact was brief, but electric. My skin tingled where his fingers had grazed.

“Careful,” he murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You might find yourself getting used to this life.”

I didn’t know whether to roll my eyes or melt into his hand. I settled somewhere awkwardly in between.

After a long pause, he leaned back against the arm of the sofa, arms crossed, studying me with an unreadable expression.

“So,” he said finally, voice steady, deliberate, “now that we’re officially… legally married, what’s next?”

I blinked. Next? I hadn’t thought past signing the papers. “I… I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “Neither do I. Let’s take it one step at a time.”

And just like that, the calm authority in his voice made my chest constrict, my stomach flutter, and my heart beat too fast in a way that terrified me.

I looked around the house again, the empty spaces, the silence, and then at him.

I was married.

To a man I barely knew.

And yet, somehow, I already felt… tethered.

I swallowed hard, unsure whether it was fear, anticipation, or something entirely new.

A sudden sound, my phone buzzing on the table

snapped me out of my thoughts. I picked it up, and my breath caught.

It was a message from my mother:

“So… how’s my little impulsive bride?”

I groaned and dropped the phone back onto the table.

Adrian’s eyes flicked to me, and I could have sworn I saw the faintest amusement cross his face. “Little impulsive bride,” he repeated softly, letting the words hang between us.

I wanted to argue. I wanted to deny it. But the truth… the terrifying, exciting, ridiculous truth… was that I was his impulsive bride now. And there was no turning back.

And then… he said something that made my pulse stop completely:

“You know, Elena… I’m not just going to let you walk into my life and call the shots. You belong here now. And I intend to make sure you realize that every single day.”

I stared at him. My heart raced, my stomach twisted. There was danger in his words… and a promise.

A promise I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

As he stood there, calm, commanding, and utterly unreadable, I realized that tonight would be my first night as Mrs. Adrian Kingsley and I had no idea what it would truly feel like to.