Chapter Three: The Rules

POV:ELENA 

Damian’s voice stayed low and even, but there was nothing soft about it.

“Sit down,"he said.

I remained standing for a second longer than necessary, then crossed the sitting room and lowered myself onto the edge of the nearest armchair. The fabric was cool beneath my palms. Damian turned the wheelchair slightly so he faced me directly. The afternoon light coming through the wide windows caught the sharp lines of his face and the rigid set of his shoulders. I hated how aware I was of the breadth of those shoulders, of the controlled strength in his hands as they rested on the arms of the chair.

“First rule,” he said. “This marriage exists on paper and in public only. In private we are strangers who share an address—until the heir clause requires otherwise. You will not enter my bedroom unless I invite you. I will not enter yours unless the contract demands it. Tonight, the contract demands it.”

My pulse moved into my throat.

“Second. You will attend every required event at my side. Dinners, board appearances, charity functions, family gatherings when Sebastian demands them. You will smile when cameras are present. You will answer questions the way my assistant prepares you to answer them. You will never contradict me in public.”

His grey eyes stayed fixed on mine, measuring every small shift in my expression. The intensity of that stare made it hard to breathe evenly.

“Third. You will not ask about the accident. You will not ask about the years since. You will not dig, search, or encourage anyone else to dig. That subject is closed.”

The words landed harder than the others. I kept my face still.

“Fourth. Your family remains your problem. Victor Brooks is not welcome here. Vanessa Morgan is not welcome here. If either of them contacts you, you will inform Ms. Renner immediately. Any attempt to use this marriage for their benefit beyond the agreed terms will end the contract and restore every debt with interest.”

I felt a flicker of anger at the way he said my father’s name, but I pushed it down.

“Fifth. You will receive a monthly allowance. It is generous. Use it as you like. Clothes, books, whatever keeps you occupied. In return, you will not work outside this arrangement and you will not give interviews or post anything related to the Sterling name without approval.”

He paused, letting the list settle.

“Last rule. The heir clause is non-negotiable. The physician arrives at eight. After he leaves, you will come to my room. You will undress. You will get on the bed. And you will open your legs for me. Do you understand?”

The words landed like a hand between my thighs.

I swallowed. “Yes.”

“Say it clearly.”

“I understand the rules.”

Damian studied me for another long moment. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find it—or decide it did not matter. He gave a short nod and turned the chair toward the left-hand doors that led to his bedroom.

“Dinner will arrive at seven. You may eat here or in your own room. I prefer to eat alone. After the physician leaves, you will come to me. Do not make me wait.”

He moved forward. The soft electronic hum of the wheelchair was the only sound until he reached the doors. He stopped with one hand on the control.

Without looking back, he added, “One more thing. The staff has been instructed not to discuss me. Don’t waste their time or yours trying. And Elena—”

My name in his mouth felt like a touch.

“—when you come to me tonight, I expect you wet.”

Then the doors closed behind him.

I sat very still in the armchair, my pulse too fast, a low heat already gathering between my legs that I refused to name. The sitting room suddenly felt larger and colder. Cream walls, expensive furniture, a low table with a single vase of white flowers that looked as if they had never been touched. 

I stood and walked to the right-hand doors—my side. The bedroom beyond was spacious, with a wide bed, a reading chair by the window, and a bathroom that looked like it belonged in a luxury hotel. A small suitcase I did not recognize sat at the foot of the bed. Inside were clothes in my size: simple, expensive, chosen by someone who had never met me. I closed the lid again.

For a while I just stood at the window, looking out over the manicured gardens. The sky was still grey. Somewhere below, staff moved quietly between buildings. No one looked up.

At six-thirty a soft knock came at the main doors of the suite. A young maid entered with a covered tray and set it on the low table in the sitting room.

“Dinner, Mrs. Sterling,” she said politely. “Would you like me to open the wine?”

“No. Thank you.”

She left as quietly as she had come.

I lifted the cover. Grilled fish, roasted vegetables, something delicate and green on the side. It smelled good. I ate a few bites standing up, then carried the plate into my bedroom and closed the door. The food settled in my stomach like something I had no right to.

Night came slowly. I changed into the soft sleep clothes that had been left in the drawers, switched off the main lights, and lay on top of the covers. Sleep did not come. Every time I closed my eyes I heard Damian’s voice listing the rules again, calm and final. And underneath it, the memory of that brief brush of his fingers against mine when we signed the papers—and the way he had said my name, and the way he had told me to come to him wet.

A little after seven-thirty I heard the soft hum of the wheelchair in the sitting room. It moved for a short while, then stopped. Voices—low, professional. The physician.

I stayed in my room until the voices faded and the outer doors clicked shut.

Then I stood, smoothed my hair with shaking hands, and walked across the sitting room to the left-hand doors.

I knocked once.

“Come in.”

I pushed the door open.

Damian sat in the wheelchair beside a wide bed that had already been turned down. He had removed his jacket and tie. The white shirt was open at the throat, revealing the strong line of his neck and the beginning of his collarbones. His grey eyes lifted to mine, unreadable in the low light.

“Close the door,” he said.

He watched me for a long moment, the silence stretching between us like a held breath. Then he spoke, voice quieter than before but heavier.

“Take off your clothes, Elena. Slowly. I want to see what I paid for.”