Chapter 6 — Annoying Rules

In the dining room, Isolde sat at the luxurious dining table with no appetite left, yet she had been forced to come downstairs because otherwise, Lucien had threatened to have the servants drag her down.

"There will be several adjustments to the rules during your stay in this mansion, Miss Isolde," Lucien said, breaking the silence at the dining table without taking his focus away from the business tablet in his hand.

Isolde, who was spreading jam on her toast, immediately frowned.

"What rules now?"

"Starting today, you are not allowed to leave the mansion grounds alone. A Blackthorne personal driver will strictly take you to and from university. Your schedule has already been synchronized with the main security team," Lucien stated firmly.

Isolde stared at him in disbelief and set her knife down with a sharp clink.

"Lucien, this is excessive! I'm not a prisoner!"

"You're living under the Blackthorne roof now, so obey," Lucien replied coldly, leaving no room for argument.

"But that still doesn't make any sense!"

This time, Lucien placed his tablet on the table with a firm tap. His sharp gray eyes locked onto Isolde's.

"That embarrassing engagement video of yours went viral, even though my team managed to wipe it within three hours. Reporters and perverted netizens could be watching you anywhere out there. I refuse to let this family's reputation be disturbed simply because you wander around carelessly and allow yourself to become a spectacle."

"I can take care of myself!"

Lucien let out a dry chuckle devoid of warmth, one that carried clear disdain.

"Really? The disaster at your engagement party and the way you cried hysterically this morning prove otherwise."

The cruel yet accurate remark instantly silenced Isolde.

A painful throb spread through her chest.

"One more thing," Lucien continued mercilessly, his tone lowering yet remaining filled with possessive authority. "You are forbidden from meeting or interacting with any male guest, whether on campus or outside this estate, without my written permission."

"Lucien, this is insane! My life doesn't belong to you!"

Isolde's chest heaved violently with anger.

Lucien was treating her as though her body and freedom were his property.

"As long as you're here, every part of you is my responsibility," Lucien cut in with an absolute tone that could not be challenged. "And I don't like the things under my responsibility being touched or becoming the subject of public ridicule."

Isolde clenched her fists beneath the table, suppressing the surge of anger mixed with humiliation.

But what hurt the most was the reaction at the table.

No one defended her.

Evander merely wore a knowing smile, as if enjoying the fact that Lucien was beginning to show signs of extreme possessiveness.

Meanwhile, Azriel remained busy scribbling on a dinner napkin with his pen, sketching Isolde's tearful eyes.

Isolde shoved her chair back roughly.

She had only taken a single bite of her bread, yet her stomach already churned with nausea from the intimidation.

"I'm full. Excuse me," she whispered softly, her voice trembling.

Without waiting for a response, Isolde turned around and quickly left the suffocating dining room.

At the dining table, Evander set down his glass of milk with a loud clink.

"Your rules are ridiculous, Lucien. You're treating her like a fugitive in your bed, not a guest."

Lucien did not answer immediately.

After reviewing the remaining report on his device, he looked up impassively and fixed his younger brother with a warning stare.

"I'm the one with the highest authority here, Evander. Anything concerning her safety is my business. If you object to the way I keep her confined... the front gate is always open for you."

Evander chuckled sarcastically and chose not to prolong the argument because he knew Lucien was being driven by jealous masculine pride.

Meanwhile, Azriel remained motionless, though his eyes gleamed sharply as he stared toward the doorway through which Isolde had disappeared.

That afternoon, as evening approached, Isolde immediately locked herself away.

A gentle breeze brushed against her face as she escaped to the spacious balcony of her room.

Gripping the iron railing tightly, the defenses around her heart crumbled once more.

Her tears broke free, and her shoulders beneath the loose cream knit sweater shook violently as she fought back painful sobs.

Why did her life have to be this complicated?

Why, after finally escaping the cruelty of Gavin, had she become trapped inside a golden cage, controlled by the Blackthorne men who seemed determined to skin her alive?

The sound of footsteps near the balcony door startled her.

Isolde hurriedly wiped away her tears with the loose sleeve of her sweater and tried to turn around.

Evander was already standing there, leaning against the balcony doorway.

The top buttons of his white shirt were intentionally left undone as usual, fluttering gently in the wind and exposing his broad, attractive chest.

"Instead of wasting your time crying uselessly out here," Evander remarked with his provocative, desire-filled smirk, "how about we play a game, Chubby?"

Isolde frowned, staring at the bad-boy with lingering tears and deep suspicion.

"What game? Don't try anything, Mr. Evander."

Evander stepped closer, cutting the distance between them until Isolde could smell the masculine fragrance mixed with the faint scent of expensive tobacco coming from him.

He lowered his head, bringing his handsome face level with hers until their noses were nearly touching.

"Let's play a wild fantasy game. You saw your idiot ex-fiancé sleeping with those two women that night, didn't you?" Evander whispered, his voice low, hoarse, and deeply sensual against Isolde's ears, sending shivers throughout her body.

His gaze locked onto Isolde's tear-filled eyes.

"Aren't you curious about what it feels like to be touched by a real man? What it feels like to be freed from your pain in bed?"

Isolde's eyes widened completely.

Her heart pounded wildly—a mixture of shock, humiliation, and a strange spark of desire that suddenly flared in the pit of her stomach because of those vulgar words.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! You're insane!" Isolde shouted, her face turning scarlet with overwhelming embarrassment.

Gathering the remainder of her strength, Isolde shoved Evander's firm chest as hard as she could.

However, the athletic, muscular man only moved back two small steps, completely unaffected by her push.

Isolde's breathing grew increasingly ragged from emotion, causing her ample chest to rise and fall rapidly beneath her loose cream sweater.

Evander watched the movement of Isolde's heaving chest hungrily.

His gaze instantly darkened as he stared intensely at the curves of her body shifting with agitation and tempting his wild imagination.

"Listen," Evander murmured, his voice dropping another octave with desire as he stepped forward again, trapping Isolde's curvy body between the iron balcony railing and the sheer size of his own frame. "The way you're breathing so heavily in front of me right now... sounds incredibly sexy and stimulating, Isolde."

"Bastard!" Isolde cursed, having completely run out of patience after being verbally harassed.

She shoved and struck Evander's chest again, this time trying to force him out of her balcony.

She refused to become some cheap erotic plaything after Gavin's betrayal.

Yet instead of becoming angry at being called a bastard, Evander grinned even wider.

The physical resistance from Isolde's soft body only fueled his primitive desire to conquer her.

With practiced ease, Evander caught both of Isolde's wrists, pinned them together above her head, and held them against the iron balcony railing with one hand. He wasn't hurting her, but she couldn't break free.

"Hey, Young Lady..." Evander whispered in a deeply husky, irresistibly sensual voice as he stared at Isolde's full lips trembling with anger and desire she didn't even realize she was feeling.

Evander moved closer, completely imprisoning Isolde's full body beneath his own.

"If you're truly curious about the outside world that Lucien has strictly forbidden you from exploring... let's start playing."

"What game are you talking about, Evander?"

A cold, deep voice filled with absolute authority suddenly cut off Evander's words from the direction of the wide-open bedroom door.

Lucien stood there, staring sharply at Evander's hand that was pinning Isolde in place.