RULES!

The limousine smelled like leather, polish and old money.

I sat stiffly at the edge of the plush leather seats, my hands placed gently on my lap like they belonged to someone else.

The events of the past few minutes kept on playing in my mind, and the more I relived them, the more I realized I had absolutely no idea why Sylas had acted that way.

Outside the car, the courthouse and the reporters had all disappeared behind the tinted glass, but one thing that didn't fade though, was the sound. The sounds of the camera shutters and the screams, all of it was there, but they were all overshadowed by one sound — the sound of Sylas' lips smacking on mine.

I shifted, finally gathering enough strength to turn to him.

“You kissed me?” I asked, “Why?”

Sylas didn’t look surprised, if anything, he looked more composed than ever, his bubbling act was now cleaned up, and in its place was the stoic and smooth visage of a man who knew he had the whole world at his fingertips.

He glanced down and loosened his cuff-links without so much as a crease in his brows. I was pissed, he could sense that, but he also acted as if we were discussing the weather.

“Yes,” he finally answered, “I did,”

“You did not warn me,”

“That wouldn’t have worked,” Sylas faced me, and shook his head,

“Excuse me?” I stared at him with an incredulous gaze,

“Paparrazi don’t wait,” he answered with a shrug,

My brows only grew more furrowed, and he sighed.

For the first time since we got in the car, he fully turned to face me, and this time, he had an apologetic glint in his eyes.

“When working with the media as well as I do, you learn to read their cues and know exactly what they want and what they are looking for,” he answered with a warm smile. “Hesitation is read as uncertainty. If the whole world is to believe that we are actually married, I needed to be spontaneous. I needed your shock to be real. If not, there is going to be speculation, and all that is going to lead to is scandal.”

My jaw tightened as I tried to wrap my head around all that he had just said, “So, what am I now?” I asked with a frown, “A prop?”

“No,” he answered, too quickly, “You are my wife legally and publicly. And in my world, perception matters.”

I let out a deep breath, and pulled my hands down my lap, “You should have told me, Sylas,” I sighed. “I froze out there, I didn’t even know what to do or how to act. I do not like to be put in the dark, you know that.”

“I noticed,” he said dryly, then, with a nod, he continued, “It won’t happen again, that I can assure you.”

That helped to calm me down, barely.

The limousine rolled through the city, one that I was beginning to see in a whole new light.

The silence stretched around us as I turned my gaze towards the city and smiled. We were currently driving through streets I had never once had the opportunity to ever be seen in. Streets with homes worth tens of millions of dollars.

This was the home of the elites, and now, I live among them.

After a couple of minutes, Sylas cleared his throat to get my attention.

I turned to face him with raised brows, “Is there anything else I should know?”

Sylas' answer was a smile. “Our rules, we need them clearly outlined,”

I nodded. Before the wedding, I had signed a contract that had all the rules laid down on it. I had read through and signed them, mainly because I thought they were all reasonable rules, but right now, I could not even recall half of them.

“Rule one,” he continued, his tone still business like, “We both stay in separate bedrooms,”

I blinked, “If we want to show the world that we are married, why separate?” I asked, my brows furrowing as I thought about that rule specifically.

I hadn’t been to Sylas’ home yet, but something told me even his bedroom would be way larger than mine. There should be enough room for both of us.

“I value my sleep,” Sylas answered, but I spotted his eyes flickering down the cleavage of my wedding dress as he spoke, “And I want clearly defined boundaries.”

I nodded slowly, “Good.”

“Rule two,” he continued, “Public affection would be required from both of us. There will be hand holding, there will be kisses and appearances together. I’ll have a schedule brought up to you for the already booked events.”

“And if I say no?” I asked, not because I was planning to, but because I needed to know my options.

He studied me, really studied me, his gaze wandered across my body before stopping on my face and the warm smile that split my lips apart. Finally, his lips parted.

“We discuss it,” he answered. “Tell me if there is anything you do not like, and we can both talk it over, but understand this, there should be no hesitation in public. The world will tear you apart if they find you lacking.”

I hated that he was right.

“Rule three,” he added, “And perhaps the most important rule. You are not to deal with the press alone, ever.”

I frowned, already shuddering as I recalled the crowd of paparazzi that had parked outside the courthouse. “I can handle myself,” I answered finally,

“I don’t doubt that,” Sylas replied, “But you are not experienced against elite media reporters. They don’t fight fair, and until you are trained enough, just don’t meet with them alone.”

The limousine finally slowed as massive gates came into view. They opened silently, and they revealed an estate that looked less of a home and more like it was a private kingdom of some sort.

“This is where you live?” I asked in awe,

“No,” Sylas turned to me and flashed me a warm smile, “This is where we live.”