Chapter 6: The Glass House

Thorne Island was a jagged tooth of emerald and granite rising out of the Atlantic. At its peak sat the "Villa of Glass" a modern architectural marvel where the walls were floor-to-ceiling windows. It was designed to offer no place to hide, a fact that Avery realized was entirely intentional as Silas watched them disembark from the helicopter with the eyes of a hawk.

"Welcome to the end of the world," Dominic muttered, his hand clamped firmly on the small of Avery’s back.

The villa was beautiful, but it felt like a trap. Every room flowed into the next, and the master suite was essentially a glass box overlooking a private cove. Even the bathroom featured an outdoor shower shielded only by a thin trellis of jasmine.

"Three days, Dominic," Silas said, leaning on his cane as they entered the foyer. "No reception. No satellite. Just the sea and your future. I’ve had the staff stock the kitchen and then leave. I want to see how you two function when the world isn't watching."

The first few hours were a grueling exercise in domestic theater. Avery forced herself to move through the kitchen, preparing a light lunch while Dominic sat at the breakfast bar, ostensibly reading a physical book but actually watching her every move. Silas sat on the terrace just outside, close enough to hear their whispers.

"You're cutting the tomatoes too perfectly," Dominic whispered, leaning forward. "Avery, you're supposed to be a woman in love, not a sous-chef. Be messy. Be... distracted."

"I'm trying not to cut my finger off because my 'fiancé' is staring at me like I'm a suspicious stock option," Avery hissed back.

Dominic stood up and walked around the counter. He didn't stop until he was flush against her back, his chest pressing into her shoulder blades. He reached around her, his large hands covering hers on the cutting board.

"Silas is looking," he breathed into her ear. "Relax."

His warmth was a sudden, overwhelming contrast to the air-conditioned chill of the villa. Avery’s breath hitched as his fingers guided hers, the knife slicing through a tomato with slow, rhythmic precision. It was too intimate, too real. The scent of him, sea salt and that expensive sandalwood began to cloud her judgment.

"That's better," Dominic murmured. He didn't pull away. Instead, he rested his chin on her shoulder, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. "Your heart is racing, Avery. Is that part of the act?"

"It's the adrenaline of the lie," she lied.

"Is it?"

The moment was shattered by the sound of Silas’s cane hitting the glass door. "If you two are quite finished playing with the produce, the sun is hitting the cove. I think a swim is in order. I want to see if my grandson still remembers how to be a man of action instead of a man of spreadsheets."

The "swim" was another trap. Avery found herself in a tiny, emerald-green bikini that left almost nothing to the imagination. As she stepped onto the sand of the private cove, she saw Dominic already in the water. His tanned skin glistened, and the sheer power of his physique made her throat go dry.

Silas sat in a chair on the pier, a cocktail in hand. "Go on, Avery! Don't keep the King waiting!"

Avery dived in, the cold Atlantic water a shock to her system. She surfaced near Dominic, her hair slicked back. He reached out, grabbing her waist to steady her against a sudden wave. Under the water, his legs brushed against hers, and for a second, the "Contract" felt a thousand miles away.

"He’s watching," Dominic warned, but his eyes were fixed on her lips, darkened by the cold.

"I know," she whispered.

Suddenly, a massive swell rolled into the cove. It caught Avery off guard, pulling her under. She gasped, swallowing salt water, panicking as the current dragged her toward the jagged rocks at the edge of the cove.

"Avery!"

Before she could sink, a powerful arm wrapped around her waist. Dominic pulled her against his chest, his muscles bunching as he fought the current. He dragged her back to the shallows, his face pale with a look that didn't belong on an 'Ice King.'

He hauled her onto the sand, hovering over her, his hands trembling as he checked her face. "Avery? Breathe. Look at me."

Avery coughed, clutching his forearms. "I'm... I'm okay."

Dominic didn't pull away. He stayed there, pinned to the sand with her, his eyes searching hers with a raw, visceral intensity. For a moment, the masks were gone. There was no Silas, no merger, no million dollars. There was only the heat of their bodies and the terrifying realization that the "Ice" was melting.

From the pier, Silas watched them, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. "Well, Dominic," he shouted. "It seems she’s not the only one who’s a 'man of action' when the stakes are high."

Dominic froze. He looked up at his grandfather, then back at Avery. He abruptly stood up, his face hardening back into the mask.

"Check's in the mail, Avery," he said, his voice suddenly cold again. "Nice performance."

But as he walked away, Avery saw his hands were still shaking.