Chapter Two: A House Without Warmth

The Blackwood mansion didn’t feel like a home.

It felt like a museum.

Tall iron gates opened silently as Lucas’s car drove in, revealing a massive building bathed in golden lights. The structure was breathtaking—marble columns, wide glass windows, perfectly trimmed gardens—but none of it made my chest feel lighter.

If anything, it tightened.

This was where I would live now.

Beside me, Lucas sat silently in the backseat, scrolling through his phone like I didn’t exist. He hadn’t said a word since we left the church. Not congratulations. Not instructions. Nothing.

I wondered if he even remembered my name.

The car stopped, and a line of uniformed staff bowed as we stepped out.

“Welcome home, sir,” they said in unison.

Home.

Lucas nodded once, already walking ahead. I followed, my heels clicking against the marble floor as we entered the mansion. The interior was just as cold as the outside—white walls, sleek furniture, expensive artwork that looked untouched.

No family photos.

No warmth.

A woman in her forties approached us. “Good evening, sir. I’m Mrs. Collins, the housekeeper.”

Lucas didn’t look at her. “Prepare a room for her.”

Her?

Not my name.

“Yes, sir.”

“And dinner,” he added. “In thirty minutes.”

Then he turned to me for the first time since the ceremony.

“You’ll need to understand how things work here,” he said flatly. “This marriage exists for appearances only.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m aware.”

“Good.” His eyes swept over me, assessing, calculating. “We will sleep in separate rooms. You are free to do as you like as long as it does not embarrass me.”

“And if it does?” I asked.

He stepped closer, towering over me. “Then you’ll regret it.”

Mrs. Collins cleared her throat awkwardly. “If you’ll follow me, ma’am.”

Ma’am?

The word felt strange on my skin.

She led me upstairs to a spacious bedroom larger than the apartment I grew up in. A king-sized bed sat in the center, draped in silk sheets. A chandelier sparkled overhead. Everything screamed luxury.

Yet it felt empty.

“This will be your room,” she said kindly. “If you need anything, please let me know.”

“Thank you,” I murmured.

As the door closed behind her, I sat on the edge of the bed, finally letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I was married.

And completely alone.

-

Dinner was silent.

Lucas sat across from me at a long dining table, eating with controlled precision while checking emails on his phone. I picked at my food, suddenly very aware of how out of place I was.

“So,” I finally said, breaking the silence. “Is this how it’s going to be?”

He looked up slowly. “How what’s going to be?”

“This,” I gestured between us. “Two strangers pretending not to exist.”

“That’s exactly how it’s going to be,” he replied. “It’s efficient.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You’re unbelievable.”

His gaze sharpened. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”

“No,” I said, meeting his eyes. “You just bought my silence instead.”

Something dark flickered across his face.

“You weren’t forced,” he said coldly. “You agreed.”

I pushed my chair back and stood. “Because I didn’t have a choice.”

For a moment, the air between us was heavy.

“Get used to this life,” Lucas said finally. “You’re in it now.”

I turned and walked away before he could see the sting in my eyes.

—

Later that night, I couldn’t sleep.

The bed was too big. The room was too quiet. My thoughts refused to slow down.

I got up and wandered down the hallway, following the soft glow of light coming from the study. The door was slightly open.

Lucas stood by the window, his suit jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up. He looked… different. Less polished. More human.

For a second, I just watched him.

Then he spoke. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I replied.

He turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “This side of the house is off-limits.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is that one of your rules?”

“Yes.”

“And what happens if I break it?”

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “You don’t want to find out.”

I swallowed but didn’t step back. “You can’t scare me, Lucas. You already took everything that mattered.”

That stopped him.

His jaw tightened. “You think you’re the only one who’s lost something?”

Before I could respond, his phone rang. He answered immediately, his voice shifting back to cold professionalism.

“Yes… tomorrow morning… no mistakes.”

He ended the call and looked at me again.

“You have an appearance tomorrow,” he said. “A charity gala. You’ll behave.”

“I always do,” I replied.

He studied me for a moment longer than necessary.

“Mrs. Blackwood,” he said suddenly.

The name hit me harder than I expected.

“Yes?” I asked quietly.

“This arrangement will only work if you remember one thing,” he continued. “You may wear my name, but you don’t own me.”

I nodded slowly. “And you don’t own my heart.”

Something unreadable flashed in his eyes.

“Good night, Amara.”

I turned and walked away, my pulse racing.

As I lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling, one thought echoed in my mind.

Living with Lucas Blackwood was going to be far more dangerous than marrying him.