Chapter 5- NO TOUCHING

Living in Killian Frost's house felt less like living and more like existing inside a controlled experiment.

Everything had rules. Everything had order. Aubrey was starting to realize she wasn't anything in this house. Not an employee. Not a guest. Not family. Just… a condition he had agreed to manage.

And he managed everything. Even her breathing, if he could. Breakfast that morning had already proven it.

Aubrey stirred her coffee lazily, sitting at the long marble dining table big enough for ten people but usually held only two of them—him at the head, her somewhere far down like she was some sort of inconvenience that he had to put up with.

She lifted the cup.

Barely took a sip.

“Put that down.”

His voice cut through the heavy silence instantly. Aubrey didn’t even look up. “And Good morning to you too.”

Killian stood by the window, perfectly dressed as always, his posture rigid like he had never once slouched in his entire life.

 His gaze flicked to her cup.

“What is that?”

She followed his eyes. “Coffee.”

“You’re not supposed to drink caffeine.”

That made her pause. Slowly, she leaned back in her chair, studying him like he had just said something ridiculous.

“Since when did you become my doctor?”

“I’m responsible for your condition.”

Aubrey let out a short laugh, more disbelief than amusement.

“My condition?” she repeated. “I’m pregnant, not some broken piece of shit.”

That finally made something shift in his expression—just a flicker, barely noticeable. But Aubrey saw it.

Killian didn’t like being corrected.

“I don’t take risks,” he said flatly.

“Well, congratulations,” she replied, taking another sip just to spite him. “I do.”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut glass.

The tension between them wasn’t new anymore. It had started as discomfort, then irritation, and now it felt like something heavier—like every word they exchanged was one step away from igniting something neither of them understood.

Killian moved closer.

Not fast.

Not aggressive.

Just… deliberate.

He stopped at the edge of the table, looking down at her.

“You’re carrying my child.”

“So?,” she shot back immediately.

A beat.

Then another.

His jaw tightened slightly, like he was restraining a response he didn’t want to give.

“That’s exactly why I need control,” he said.

“Control?” she echoed. “You don’t get control over me, Killian. You get responsibility. There’s a big difference.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

For a second, she thought he might argue again.

But instead, he turned away.

Like always.

Like emotions were something beneath him.

Like she wasn’t worth the reaction.

That should have ended it.

But it never did.

Because with Killian Frost, nothing ever really ended—it just waited.

By nightfall, the sky over the city had turned violent.

Thunderstorms weren’t rare in New York, but this one felt different. Heavier. Like the sky itself was angry.

Aubrey lay in bed, trying to sleep, but the sound of rain beating against the glass kept her awake.

Then lightning split the sky.

A loud crack followed immediately.

Her body jolted anxiously.

She hated thunderstorms.

Not just disliked—hated.

They reminded her of things she never talked about. Things she never explained.

Another strike hit.

Closer this time.

Her heart jumped.

She sat up quickly, breathing raggedly as she straddled her knees to her chest.

“Get a grip,” she whispered to herself.

But the next thunderclap came like an explosion.

She was out of bed instantly.

Barefoot.

Heart racing.

Without thinking, she left her room.

Downstairs, the mansion was dark.

Too dark.

Even the security lights outside didn’t reach inside properly, leaving long shadows stretched across the walls like something was hiding in them.

Aubrey moved carefully down the stairs.

Then stopped.

He was there.

Killian.

Sitting in the living room alone.

No lights.

Only the dim glow of the city outside seeping into the living room.

He had a glass of whiskey in his hand, His shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the top revealing a tatoo she hadn't noticed.

For the first time, he didn’t look like a CEO.

He looked… human.

But not relaxed.

Not peaceful.

Just trapped in his own silence.

Another thunderclap hit.

Aubrey flinched before she could stop herself.

Killian's head turned immediately.

“You’re afraid,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

“I’m not,” she replied too quickly.

Lightning flashed again, lighting up the entire room for half a second.

Her body betrayed her—she jumped slightly.

Killian saw it.

“You are,” he said again, quieter this time.

Aubrey crossed her arms. “It’s just noise.”

“Then why are you downstairs?”

She opened her mouth.

Closed it.

No answer came.

Killian leaned back slightly, studying her.

Then, unexpectedly—

“Come here.”

Aubrey frowned. “What?”

“Sit.”

“That’s not—”

“Sit.”

Something in his tone made her hesitate. Not command exactly. Not softness either. Something in between that made it impossible to say no to.

Slowly, she walked over and sat on the opposite end of the couch.

A safe distance.

Or so she thought.

Thunder cracked again, louder.

Aubrey tensed up quickly.

Killian noticed.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

“I said I’m fine.”

Another strike.

This time, it shook the windows.

Aubrey gasped before she could stop herself.

And without thinking—

She grabbed his arm.

The moment contact happened, everything stopped.

Her brain caught up a second later. She froze.

Her fingers were still wrapped around his arm, her fingers were digging into his flesh.

Killian looked down at her hand.

Then slowly up at her face.

The room became tense.

He didn’t move.

Neither did she.

The storm outside kept raging, but inside the mansion, everything had gone still.

Too still.

Aubrey swallowed.

“I—” she started.

But didn’t finish.

Because Killian spoke first.

His voice was lower than before. Controlled. Dangerous in a way that wasn’t loud, but felt heavier than shouting.

“You should let go now, Aubrey.”

Her fingers twitched slightly.

But she didn’t release him.

Not yet.

Another thunderclap hit.

She flinched again—and unconsciously tightened her grip instead of letting go.

Killian's expression darkened just slightly.

Not anger.

Something sharper.

Something restrained.

“You’re breaking the rule,” he said quietly.

Aubrey forced herself to breathe.

“I didn’t mean to.”

Silence.

Then—

“Then move your hand.”

She should have.

She knew she should have.

But for some reason, she didn’t.

Instead, she looked up at him properly for the first time.

Really looked.

And saw something she hadn’t noticed before.

Not control.

Not coldness.

Something held back.

Something tightly contained.

Killian wasn’t emotionless.

He was just better at hiding it.

The realization made her chest tighten for reasons she couldn’t explain.

Outside, thunder rolled again—long and deep.

Inside, neither of them moved.

And for the first time since this arrangement began…

It wasn’t just her breaking the rules.

It felt like he was standing right on the edge of breaking his too.