Chapter 4: The Only Bed in the Penthouse

The adrenaline of the Gala was beginning to sour, leaving a hollow ache in Avery’s chest. The "Ice King" hadn't let go of her hand until the heavy oak doors of the Thorne Estate’s private guest wing swung shut behind them.

"That kiss," Avery started, her voice sounding small in the vast, high-ceilinged room. "That wasn't in the contract."

Dominic was already shedding his tuxedo jacket, tossing it onto a velvet chaise lounge with a careless grace. He loosened his silk tie, his gray eyes fixing on her with a blunt intensity. "The contract stipulates a 'convincing performance.' Celeste was looking for a crack in the foundation. I simply sealed it."

He didn't look like a businessman anymore. With his collar open and his hair slightly disheveled from the night’s wind, he looked dangerous and unpredictable.

"We need to discuss the itinerary for the morning," he continued, walking toward the wet bar. "My grandfather wants breakfast at eight. He’ll be looking for signs of domestic bliss."

Avery nodded, her mind already racing toward the sanctuary of sleep. She turned toward the hallway, looking for the second bedroom. "I’ll just... find my room then."

Dominic paused, a crystal glass of bourbon halfway to his lips. A dark, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, a look that sent a fresh jolt of anxiety through her.

"There’s a slight complication, Avery."

"Complication?"

"This is the North Wing. It was built in 1920 when the family believed that a betrothed couple should spend their final weeks in... close quarters." He gestured toward the massive, four-poster bed draped in ivory silk that dominated the center of the room. "There is only one suite. And one bed."

Avery’s breath hitched. She looked at the bed, then back at Dominic. "You’re joking. This is a mansion. There are forty rooms."

"And thirty-nine of them are occupied by cousins, board members, and my grandfather’s medical staff," Dominic said, taking a slow sip of his drink. "If you walk out that door looking for a spare room, the lie dies before the sun comes up. And so does the check for your mother’s surgery."

The mention of her mother was like a cold drenching. The $1 million debt felt heavier than ever.

"I'll sleep on the sofa," she said, eyeing the narrow velvet chaise.

"Don't be a martyr, Avery. It’s a California King. You could fit a small army between us." Dominic walked toward the bed, kicking off his shoes. "I have no interest in crossing the invisible line in the middle of that mattress. I’m exhausted, and I have a merger to finalize in my head before 8:00 AM."

Avery stood frozen as he climbed into one side of the bed, fully clothed minus his jacket and shoes. He turned his back to her, the broad expanse of his shoulders silhouetted by the moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

With trembling hands, Avery reached for the zipper of her midnight-blue dress. It caught halfway down her spine. She let out a frustrated huff, her fingers fumbling with the delicate silk.

Suddenly, the mattress shifted. Before she could gasp, Dominic was standing behind her. His heat was a physical presence, a silent command.

"Don't," she whispered.

"Stop being dramatic. You can't sleep in silk and diamonds." His voice was low, vibrating against the sensitive skin of her bare neck.

He reached out, his long, calloused fingers brushing against her skin as he caught the zipper. He moved slowly, his knuckles grazing each of her vertebrae as he slid the silk down. Avery forgot how to breathe. The friction of his touch was like a slow-burn fuse.

"There," he murmured, his breath ghosting over her shoulder.

He didn't pull away immediately. For a heartbeat, they stood in the silver silence, the only sound the frantic thud of Avery’s heart. Dominic’s gaze dropped to the curve of her shoulder, his eyes darkening with a hunger that had nothing to do with a contract.

"Go to sleep, Avery," he said, his voice suddenly rough. He turned abruptly and climbed back into his side of the bed.

Avery hurried into the bathroom, changing into the silk slip they had provided her. When she finally climbed into the far edge of the massive bed, she made sure there was a literal yard of space between them.

The silence was deafening. Every time Dominic shifted, the mattress rippled, and Avery’s skin pricked with awareness. She stared at the ceiling, the $1 million debt and the "Ice King's" touch warring for space in her mind.

"Avery?" Dominic’s voice came out of the darkness, quiet and stripped of its corporate steel.

"Yes?"

"Don't forget the rule."

"I know, Dominic," she whispered into the shadows. "Don't fall in love."

"Exactly."

But as Avery closed her eyes, she realized the rule was going to be much harder to keep than she’d ever imagined. Especially when the man who bought her time was the only thing keeping her from falling.