Rules and Rewards

Chapter Twelve

Andrea’s POV

I am curled up on the massive living room couch, flipping through channels on the biggest TV I have ever seen, when Claire’s calm voice cuts through the quiet.

“Miss Vale, Mr. Hale is back.”

My heart does a stupid little flip. I stand up so fast I almost trip over the soft throw blanket. Seconds later, the front door opens and Tristan walks in, still in his sharp suit, looking every inch the ruthless tycoon who just spent the day terrifying people in boardrooms. His hair is slightly tousled like he has run his fingers through it, and that faint woody scent follows him like a warning.

I move before I can overthink it. I walk straight up to him, reach for his suit jacket, and help slide it off his shoulders. My fingers brush the expensive fabric as I fold it over my arm. Then I reach for the leather bag in his other hand.

“Welcome home, Mr. Hale,” I say, trying to sound smooth even though my pulse is racing.

He lets me take the jacket for half a second before he pulls it back from my hands, along with the bag. His gray eyes meet mine, cool and unreadable.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he says, voice low and even. “You don’t have to act like a wife.”

The words land like a slap wrapped in silk. I feel my cheeks heat and I look down at the floor, nodding quickly. “Sorry. I just… wanted to be helpful.”

He studies me for a moment, then asks, “Did you see the money sent to your account?”

I nod, unable to hide the excitement bubbling up. “Yeah, I did. Thank you so much, Mr. Hale. You have no idea what that means to us.”

Before I can stop myself, the words spill out in a rush. “My mom called earlier. She told me they moved Ethan to a private wing at St. Gabriel’s. He has an appointment with one of the best cardiologists now. She said I should thank you. We can finally breathe again and it’s all because of you.”

I expect at least a small nod, maybe an indifferent “you’re welcome.” Instead, his brows pull together in a slight frown.

“You’re calling people?” he asks.

I blink, suddenly lost because what’s going on? How did the topic switch up so fast?

“Yeah, just my mom,” I answer carefully anyway. “I thought…”

He sighs, the sound heavy with disappointment. “I was willing to let that go the first time because you had just moved in. They might want to check if you arrived safely. But what part of me controlling your social interactions do you not understand?”

My stomach drops. “I… I didn’t know that included phone calls.”

Tristan looks at me for a long beat, then says, “Follow me upstairs.”

I swallow hard and trail behind him. We climb the stairs in silence. When he pushes open the door to his room, I hesitate at the doorstep. 

My own room is luxurious, but his is on another level. It's dark, masculine, all deep wood tones, black accents, and a massive bed that looks like it was made for sin rather than sleep. The air feels heavier in here, like it already knows secrets.

“Come in,” he says.

I step inside. He drops his suit jacket on a nearby couch and sits on the arm of the sleek leather chair, watching me.

“Going forward,” he says, voice calm but firm, “all our encounters will happen here. In my room.”

I nod.

“Use your words, Andrea.”

I swallow again. “Okay… Master.”

A faint approval flickers in his eyes as he holds out his hand. “Where is your phone?”

I pull it from my pants pocket, hesitating for a second until his tone sharpens. “Give it to me.”

My heart starts racing as I hand it over. He takes it without breaking eye contact and sets it on the side table.

“Now, if you read the contract carefully,” he continues, “it clearly states I have control over your contact with people outside this arrangement. I do not want words getting out. So I will be confiscating your phone for now.”

My chest tightens. This is starting to feel like a cage with very expensive bars. “But… this is isolation. I’m a human being.”

“You signed away certain rights when you agreed to the contract,” he replies, tone matter-of-fact. “I told you to read it carefully, did I not?”

Fuck. I should not have skimmed those boring lines. I thought the important parts were just the money and the medical bills. Now I am standing in a dark bedroom with a man who just took my only real connection to the outside world.

Tristan leans back, arms folding loosely across his chest. “Let’s make this simple,” he says. “Every time you satisfy me by doing exactly what I want, no hesitation, no holding back, you earn something from me.” His gaze stays on mine. “A favor. One request that I will grant each time . Within reason, of course. Money, things you need, even time with your family under my terms… whatever you ask for.”

My eyes light up despite everything. A reward system? That sounds almost… manageable.

“But,” he adds, his voice dropping colder, “there will be punishment for every time you cross a line or disobey me. And I will not take it lightly with you.”

Gosh, this man is getting terrifying. Twisted in a way that makes my skin prickle and my thighs press together at the same time. What kind of punishments does a man like Tristan Hale even come up with?

He watches my face carefully, then says, “If you feel this will overwhelm you and you cannot take it, I did not lock the door behind me.” My eyes wander to the door knob as the words hang between us. “You can walk out anytime, Andrea. I will not stop you.”

I actually consider it. My feet shift toward the door for half a second. I could leave right now. Walk away from the contract, the rules, the dark room, the man who looks at me like he already owns every piece of me.

But then what?

What if he stops Ethan’s treatment? What if he demands the ten million back? What if Mom has to go back to crying over hospital bills while Ethan struggles to breathe?

“Which will it be, dearest?” Tristan asks, his grey eyes fixed on mine. “Are you in, or out?”