Chapter 6: Price of curiosity

Rayna's POV

The silence in the hallway felt like it could suffocate me. Denzel stood at the bottom of the stairs, his hazel-green eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made my knees weak. Not from attraction—from fear.

"I asked you a question, Amelia." His voice was dangerously calm now, which somehow felt worse than his earlier rage. "What were you doing in my gallery?"

I swallowed hard, my back still pressed against the doorframe of the forbidden room. "I... I was just curious. I didn't touch anything, I swear."

"Curious." He repeated the word like it tasted bitter on his tongue. Slowly, deliberately, he began climbing the stairs. Each step echoed through the empty mansion like a judge's gavel. "On your first night in this house, you couldn't follow one simple rule?"

"You never actually told me about the gallery specifically," I said, hating how my voice shook. "Bee mentioned it at dinner, but—"

"But what?" He reached the top of the stairs now, towering over me. "You thought the rules didn't apply to you? That this marriage contract gives you access to every corner of my life?"

"No, I just—"

"Let me make something abundantly clear, Amelia Rayna James Adams." The way he said my full name, including his own surname now attached to it, sent chills down my spine. "This house has boundaries. I have boundaries. And you just crossed the most important one."

I lifted my chin, trying to find some semblance of dignity. "Then maybe you should have locked the door."

His jaw clenched. For a moment, I thought I'd pushed too far. Then, unexpectedly, something flickered in his eyes—not anger, but something deeper. Pain, maybe. Or fear.

"That room..." He paused, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "That room contains the only honest things I've ever created. The only pieces of myself I haven't sold or weaponized for business. And you just walked in like you had every right to see them."

The vulnerability in his admission caught me off guard. This was the first time since I'd met Denzel that he seemed... human. Wounded, even.

"I'm sorry," I said, and I meant it. "I truly didn't mean to violate your privacy. I was just... lost. This house is so big, and I felt so alone, and—"

"Alone?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You signed up for this, Amelia. You knew exactly what this marriage was. A transaction. A contract. Not a fairy tale where the billionaire falls in love with his bought bride."

His words stung worse than a slap. "I never expected a fairy tale," I shot back. "But I also didn't expect to be treated like a prisoner in a golden cage."

"Then maybe you should have read the fine print more carefully."

We stood there, barely three feet apart, both breathing hard. The tension between us was suffocating, electric. I could smell his cologne—something expensive and woodsy that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe back home.

"What's my punishment, then?" I asked, exhausted. "Since I broke your precious rule on day one?"

Denzel's expression hardened again. "Starting tomorrow, Bee will give you a detailed tour of this house. Every room you're allowed to enter will be specified. The gallery, my personal office, and my bedroom wing are off-limits. You have your own wing—stay in it."

"My own wing?" I repeated. "We're not even sharing a bedroom?"

"Did you think we would?" He raised an eyebrow. "This is a contract marriage, Amelia. Not a real one. We'll share public spaces when necessary, attend events together, play the perfect couple for the cameras. But behind these walls? We're strangers. And that's how it will stay."

Something inside me cracked at his words. I'd known this marriage was fake, but hearing him spell it out so coldly made it real in a way that hurt.

"Fine," I said quietly. "Strangers it is."

I turned to walk back toward what Bee had shown me as "my wing," but Denzel's voice stopped me.

"Amelia."

I glanced back over my shoulder.

"Don't test me again," he said. "I may have needed this marriage for my own reasons, but make no mistake—I will not tolerate disobedience. There are consequences for breaking my rules. Tonight, I'm letting it slide because it's your first night. Consider it a warning. There won't be a second one."

I nodded once, not trusting my voice, and walked away. My feet carried me through the labyrinth of hallways until I found my bedroom—if you could call it that. It was more like a luxury hotel suite, complete with a sitting area, a walk-in closet bigger than my old bedroom, and a bathroom with a tub that could fit three people.

I collapsed onto the silk sheets and stared at the ceiling, trying to process everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. This morning, I'd been Amelia Rayna James. Tonight, I was Mrs. Denzel Connor Adams—a title that meant everything and nothing at the same time.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text from Serena: How's the first night as Mrs. Billionaire? Are you drowning in champagne and rose petals?

I almost laughed. If only she knew.

Instead of responding, I turned off my phone and closed my eyes. Tomorrow, I would start learning how to survive in this beautiful prison. I would learn Denzel's rules, navigate his world, and protect my heart from hoping for anything more than what this contract promised.

But tonight, I let myself cry. For the girl I used to be, for the freedom I'd traded away, and for the loneliness that no amount of luxury could cure.

This was my life now. And I had 730 days left to endure it.