Chapter 8

Nova

I just sat there, leaning against the headboard, watching him pace the room like a caged lion. Honestly, he was a sight, in a tailored charcoal suit and coiled tension, looking like he wanted to punch a hole through the floor. I was just soaking up the drama, because right now, he was trapped, and I was holding the keys, or at least, his grandmother was. I had no idea she would lock us in.

"There needs to be some boundaries," he'd said, all serious and cold. And then he launched into his list, treating me like I was a wayward employee, not the woman he was forced to marry to stop his best friend from trying to climb into his bed.

"One, you do not conspire with my grandmother to get close to me. Two, you stay as far away from me as possible..."

I swear, I could feel my eye starting to twitch. I cut him off, dropping the fake respectful tone he seemed to think he deserved.

"Stop right there, Killian," I said, pushing off the headboard and standing up. I might be five feet of fury, but I made sure every inch of me felt like a mountain in that moment. "You finished your little checklist. Now, you listen to mine, 'because this isn't a one-way street."

He stopped pacing; those pale, icy gray eyes narrowed right on me. His jaw was tight enough to crack walnuts. He probably wasn't used to being told what to do, especially not by a short girl in his grandmother’s guest room. Good.

"One," I said, holding up a finger, walking closer to him so he couldn't miss a single word, even if he tried to look over my head. "You stop following me. You want to stay far away from me? Great. You do that. I'm not some puppy you own. When I'm in the library, when I'm walking outside, when I'm having my breakfast, you are invisible to me, and I expect the same back."

He started to speak, but I held up a hand, stopping him dead.

"Two. Tanya? You said I won't involve myself in the Ashford family business or affairs, yeah? She's your affair. I don't give a rat's ass about her. You keep her out of my space. If she starts her little dramas at the breakfast table, I’ll reply. If she throws herself at you when I’m around, you deal with her. Don’t you dare tell me to speak to her with respect when she's treating me like a nuisance in my own damn house."

"She is my best fri—" he growled, the word heavy with warning.

"I don't care if she's the Queen of England's best friend," I snapped back, leaning in. "She’s the reason I’m here. Your grandmother said so herself. So until you figure out what's what, keep her on a short leash.” 

That hit a nerve. I saw the muscle twitch in his jaw.

"Three," I continued, pressing my advantage. "You will never, ever touch me again. That little stunt in the library? That was the last time, Killian. We have a contract. It's a business deal. If you want to make out with someone, you go find someone; I’m sure Tanya will be willing if you choose.  But if you put one finger on me again, I won't just murder you in your sleep; I will make sure the media knows exactly what sort of controlling bastard you are. Your reputation will be toast. You hear me?"

His eyes were a silent storm, but he didn't move. He knew I meant it, and he knew how much that kind of drama would cost his precious Ashford Global Holdings.

"Four. You owe me an apology."

He let out a short, harsh laugh. "Apology? For what?"

"For treating me like I was beneath you from the second I walked into that living room. I signed a piece of paper to save my mother's life. That's all I did. You don't get to judge me for that. I get it, you're cold, ruthless, and emotionless, but you can still manage a half-decent apology."

He just stared, the silence stretching out between us like a battlefield. His chest was rising and falling fast. He was losing control, and I loved it.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and dangerous, "You are testing my patience, Nova."

"And you are being an asshole," I countered smoothly. "We’re stuck for a year. I don’t want to be here. You don’t want me here. We can make this work if we stick to the terms: we are ghosts to each other. And no touching. Got it, husband?"

He took a slow step back, his eyes still locked on mine. He ran a hand over his dark hair.

"Fine," he ground out, the word barely audible. "We stick to the terms. No touching. No drama. You stay out of my business, and I'll stay out of yours."

"Perfect," I chirped, feeling a small victory dance in my gut. I climbed back into the massive bed and pulled the covers over me. Good. Silence was what I wanted.

But you know how it is when you’re sharing a room with someone, even if they're a stone-cold killer of a CEO? You can feel their presence. Every shift, every inhale, every deep sigh. I was trying to figure out my next move, planning how to make sure he sticks to the rules. when I heard his quiet voice.

"I need to know why," he asked, not looking at me.

I sighed, rolling over to face the back of his chair. "Why what, Killian? Why am I not throwing myself at your feet? I already told you, I have no interest in men like you."

He slowly turned, finally meeting my gaze. There was something in his eyes that wasn't rage or control; it was something a lot messier, something I didn't want to deal with.

"Why the library?" he asked. "Why that small of a room? You could have been in the sitting room or the kitchen. You chose a place where you knew I'd be. You provoked me, Nova."

"Oh, now you're talking shit," I scoffed, sitting up. "The house is a museum! It’s cold and empty. The library was the only place that felt remotely like I could breathe. And yes, I was sitting in your chair. Why? Because you think you own every square inch of this earth, and I needed to remind you that I am not part of your property, Killian. I'm a person, and I’ll sit wherever the hell I want. You were the one who had to make a big show of it."

He didn't argue that. He just leaned back, running his hand over his jaw. "You are dangerous."

"Oh, then that's good," I replied, rolling my eyes. "Look, I'm trying to sleep. We're stuck here. Get over it."

He didn't move for the longest time, just sitting in that chair, watching me. I finally gave up and turned my back on him. It felt risky, but I wasn't going to let him see how much his piercing gaze affected me.

Just as I was drifting off, I heard a sound. It wasn't a bang or a shout. It was a faint, almost strangled noise, and then a heavy thud. I sat straight up.

"Killian?"

He was gone from the chair. I scrambled out of bed and rushed over to the door. It was still locked from the outside. I spun around, scanning the room.

He wasn't there. Then I looked down.

He was crumpled on the floor by the window, breathing in harsh, shallow gasps, his hand pressed against his ribs. His face was slick with sweat, and those terrifying gray eyes were wide with something that looked a lot like pain. Real pain.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded, rushing to his side, forgetting all about the boundaries and the threats.

"Don't... touch... me," he rasped out, trying to push my hand away with a grunt.