Chapter 7: Cold Rules

My eyes felt gritty from all the crying the night before. I lay there for a long minute, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, trying to convince myself that yesterday had been some kind of nightmare. The bed, the quiet room, the echo of Lucian’s rough voice telling me to go back inside… it was all real.

I dragged myself up and went to the bathroom. The girl in the mirror looked pale and hollow-eyed. I splashed water on my face, brushed my teeth with the new toothbrush Mrs. Hale had left out, and pulled on simple clothes. I wasn’t here to impress anyone, especially not the man who had dismissed me like yesterday’s trash.

My stomach growled, reminding me I’d barely eaten the night before. I hesitated at the bedroom door, remembering Lucian’s cold glare in the hallway. Part of me wanted to hide in here all day. The other part, the stubborn one that had survived years with Isadora and Natalia refused to cower.

I made my way downstairs. The house was even more intimidating in daylight. Mrs. Hale met me in the hallway with a kind smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Mr. Draven is in the breakfast room, miss. He asked for you to join him.”

My pulse kicked up. “He asked?”

She nodded. “Yes. This way.”

I followed her through a corridor into a smaller, more intimate room than the formal dining hall from last night. Lucian was already seated at the head of the table, newspaper in one hand, coffee in the other. He didn’t look up when I entered.

I sat down across from him. For several minutes, no sound was made. I stole glances at him. Last night’s moment in the hallway kept replaying, the way he’d gripped the doorframe, the heat in his eyes before the ice returned.

Finally, he folded the newspaper and set it aside.

“Ground rules,” he said. His voice was low, businesslike. “You stay out of my west wing. That’s my private space. No exceptions. You do not contact your family without my permission. No calls, no texts, no surprise visits. And you will attend certain events with me as my wife when required. Appearances matter.”

I stared at him, fork frozen halfway to my mouth. “Just like that? You’re giving me orders like I’m some employee?”

He leaned back in his chair, watching me with that same detached expression. “You are my wife now. On paper, at least. That means you follow my rules. This isn’t a partnership, Aurora. It’s an arrangement.”

The use of my name sent a strange shiver through me. I set my fork down, trying to keep my voice steady even though anger was bubbling up. “An arrangement that saved my family’s company, right? Yet they couldn’t wait to get rid of me. And now you’re treating me like I’m a prisoner in this house.”

Lucian’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You think this is a prison? You have no idea what real prisons look like. You get food, clothes, a roof over your head that’s better than anything your father could provide. Be grateful.”

“Grateful?” I pushed my chair back and stood up, heart pounding. This was the first real conversation we’d had, and it already felt like a fight. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask to marry a man who won’t even look at me during dinner or eat in the same room. I signed those papers because my father guilt-tripped me into it. Because I thought I was helping the only family I had left. And now I’m here, and you’re laying down rules like I’m some… some possession you bought.”

Something dangerous flickered across his face. He stood slowly, towering over the table. “You are mine now. Whether you like it or not.”

The words hung between us. Heavy. Possessive.

I took a step back, but he moved faster. In two strides he was around the table, closing the distance until my back hit the wall near the window. Lucian stopped just inches away, one hand planting on the wall beside my head, caging me in. His other hand came down to my waist, gripping firmly through the fabric, not painful, but undeniable. His fingers spread wide, holding me in place as he leaned in.

Heat radiated from his body. His thumb moved once, almost unconsciously, brushing over my hip bone.

“You belong to me now,” he said, voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. “Get that through your head. No more arguments. No more pushing back. You stay in your lane, and we won’t have problems.”

My heart hammered so hard I was sure he could feel it. I should have been scared. I was scared. But there was something else too… a confusing warmth spreading from where his hand gripped my waist. For a split second, his gaze dropped to my lips again, the same way it had last night.

Then, like he’d burned himself, he released me. His hand jerked away from my waist so fast I almost stumbled. He stepped back, jaw clenched tight, eyes flashing with frustration… at me, or at himself, I couldn’t tell.

“Don’t test me again, Aurora,” he growled.

Without another word, he turned and stormed out of the room. The door slammed behind him.

I stayed pressed against the wall for a long moment, breathing fast. My waist still tingled where his fingers had been. The pressure of his grip lingered like a brand. I touched the spot absently, trying to make sense of what just happened. He’d been so cold, so controlling… but that touch. The way his hand had flexed like he wanted to pull me closer instead of pushing me away.

I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor, knees drawn up. Confusion swirled in my chest. Hate. Fear. And something warmer that I didn’t want to name. This man was dangerous. Not just because of his reputation, but because of how my body reacted to him even when my mind screamed to stay away.

Mrs. Hale found me there a few minutes later. She didn’t ask questions, just helped me up gently and brought me a fresh cup of tea. “He’s… complicated, miss,” she said softly. “Give it time.”

Time. That was the one thing I didn’t know if I had.

I spent the rest of the morning in my room, replaying the argument.

I touched the necklace at my throat again. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” I whispered to the empty room.

Outside, the city kept moving, indifferent. Inside, I was trapped with a devil who ran hot and cold in the same breath. A devil whose touch left me shaken in ways I wasn’t ready to admit.

And the worst part?

Some small, terrified piece of me was already wondering what would happen the next time he touched me.