CHAPTER 2

ELARA POV

The guest room was as cold as the man who owned it.

I sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, my fingers tracing the hem of the silk robe I had found in the marble bathroom. Everything in Alaric Vance’s penthouse was shades of slate, charcoal, and glass. It felt more like a gallery than a home, and certainly not a place for someone who had just lost everything.

My damp funeral clothes were folded neatly on a chair, a stark reminder of the mud and the graveside I had left just hours ago. I looked at the digital clock on the bedside table. 3:14 AM.

The silence of the penthouse was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the city seventy floors below. I was exhausted, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw the mahogany caskets and the cold, unyielding expression on Alaric’s face.

Restless, I stood up and padded softly toward the kitchen. I needed water. My throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper.

I didn't turn on the lights. The moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows was enough to guide me. As I reached the marble island, a shadow moved near the balcony. I nearly dropped my glass.

"Can't sleep?"

Alaric was standing there, a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. He had stripped off his suit jacket and tie, the top buttons of his white shirt undone. He looked less like the untouchable CEO and more like the man I used to watch from the stairs when he visited my father.

"The room is a bit quiet," I said, my voice barely a whisper. I focused on filling my glass from the dispenser, my hands trembling just enough for the ice to clink against the rim.

"It’s a penthouse, Elara. Not a dormitory. You’ll get used to the silence."

He walked closer, the scent of expensive sandalwood and something sharp, like rain-soaked cedar, following him. He stopped on the other side of the island. He didn't look tired. He looked like a man who functioned perfectly on caffeine and ambition.

"I took the liberty of having your remaining things moved from the estate," he said, gesturing toward the hallway. "The boxes are in the study. You can go through them tomorrow."

"You went to the house?" I asked, looking up at him.

Alaric took a slow sip of his drink, his gaze steady on mine. "Someone had to. The bank was changing the locks at noon. I made sure they didn't toss your mother's jewelry or your father's journals."

"Thank you, Uncle Alaric."

The name made him pause. His jaw tightened, and he set the glass down on the marble with a sharp clack.

"Don't call me that," he said, his tone dropping an octave.

I blinked, confused by the sudden edge in his voice. "Why not? You’ve always been—"

"I was your father’s partner, Elara. I was never your uncle," he interrupted. He stepped around the island, closing the distance between us until I was forced to lean back against the counter. He was so much taller than I remembered. "That name was a courtesy for a child. You aren't a child anymore."

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I’m twenty. I know I’m not a child."

"Then start acting like it. This isn't a summer vacation. You’re here because you have no other options, and I’m here because I made a promise. That’s the extent of this arrangement."

He reached out, his hand hovering near the counter, effectively pinning me in place. "Since you’re awake, we might as well go over the ground rules. I don't like surprises, and I don't like my routine disrupted."

"I'm not here to cause trouble," I said, trying to find my voice.

"Good. First, my office is off-limits. Unless the building is on fire, you don't enter it. Second, I expect you to maintain your grades. Just because your father’s money is gone doesn't mean your education stops. I’ll be receiving your transcripts directly from the university."

"You're checking my grades now?"

"I’m your guardian, Elara. That means I’m responsible for your future. If you fail a class, you lose your allowance. It’s that simple."

He leaned in a fraction closer, his dark eyes searching mine. "Third, no guests. No parties. No late-night arrivals with boys I don't know. If you're going to be out past ten, you text me. Am I clear?"

"Ten? I'm in college, Alaric. That’s a bit—"

"Am I clear?" he repeated, his voice low and uncompromising.

I looked away, staring at the buttons of his shirt. I could see the steady beat of the pulse in his neck. The tension between us was thick, uncomfortable, and entirely new. "Yes. Clear."

Alaric straightened up, the sudden lack of his heat making the room feel colder. He picked up his glass and finished the rest of his drink in one go.

"The keys are on the counter," he said, nodding toward a silver keychain. "They’ll give you access to the lobby and the private elevator. Your phone has been added to the smart-home system. Use it to order whatever food you need. My assistant, Sarah, will be here at eight to take you to buy whatever essentials you're missing."

He started to walk away, then stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "And Elara?"

"Yes?"

"Dress appropriately. We have a dinner with the board members on Friday. You'll be coming with me."

"I thought I was supposed to stay out of your way."

"You are," he said, a small, humorless smirk playing on his lips. "But the board needs to see that the Thorne legacy is being 'properly managed.' It’s all about optics."

He didn't wait for a reply. He walked down the hall toward the master suite, his footsteps silent on the thick carpet.

I stood in the kitchen for a long time, holding my half-empty glass of water. I looked at the silver keys on the counter. They were heavy, cold, and shiny—a perfect reflection of Alaric Vance.

I walked over and picked them up. The metal felt strange in my palm. For years, I had dreamed of being near him, of catching his attention, of being more than just "the boss's daughter" in his eyes. Now I was under his roof, under his thumb, and bound by his rules.

I moved to the window and looked out at the city. The rain had stopped, leaving the streets below shimmering with reflected neon. My old life—the parties, the security, the parents who loved me—was gone. In its place was this glass cage and a guardian who looked at me like I was a problem he had to solve.

I turned back toward the hallway, passing the study. Through the cracked door, I could see the stacks of cardboard boxes. My whole life was packed into those squares. I felt a sudden, sharp pang of loneliness that made my chest ache.

I made it back to the guest room and closed the door. The lock clicked into place, but it didn't make me feel any safer. I climbed back into the oversized bed, pulling the duvet up to my chin. The scent of the penthouse—that lingering sandalwood—was everywhere.

It was Alaric’s world. I was just living in it.

Tomorrow, the real work would begin. Tomorrow, I would have to figure out how to live with a man who treated me like a stranger while his very presence made my pulse race with a familiarity I couldn't explain.

As I stared at the ceiling, I realized that Alaric was right about one thing. The silence was loud. And in that silence, I realized that the hardest rule to follow wasn't the curfew or the office ban.

It was going to be the one I had to set for myself: don't fall for the man who is only holding your hand because he promised a dead man he would.