The Cold Bed

Chapter 3

Moving into the Sterling Estate was like moving into a museum.

The walls were painted in stark, lifeless grays and whites. The furniture was aggressively modern, designed for aesthetics rather than comfort. It was a massive, silent fortress in the wealthy hills of Medina, and it felt utterly devoid of human warmth. Much like its owner.

It was their first night as husband and wife.

Maya sat on the very edge of the California King bed in the master suite. She wore a pair of faded, oversized cotton pajamas she had insisted on keeping, despite the closet full of silk lingerie Julian’s staff had stocked for her. The sheer size of the bedroom was intimidating.

The bathroom door clicked open.

Julian stepped out. Maya immediately averted her eyes, staring hard at the intricate pattern of the Persian rug. But her peripheral vision betrayed her. He wasn't wearing a suit. Dressed only in dark sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, he looked dangerously athletic. Without the armor of his corporate attire, he seemed larger, more imposing.

"You take the right side," Julian said. His voice was entirely flat, giving nothing away.

He walked over to the left side of the bed, pulled back the heavy duvet, and got in. He immediately rolled over, presenting his broad back to her.

Maya swallowed the lump in her throat. She carefully slipped under the covers on the far right edge, leaving a gulf of empty mattress between them. The silence in the dark room was deafening. It felt like sleeping next to a loaded gun.

"Thank you," Maya whispered to the ceiling. "For the hospital transfer. Lily called me from her new room. She said it looks like a high-end hotel."

Julian didn't shift. "It's in the contract."

"You didn't have to give her the VIP suite."

"Go to sleep, Maya."

The harsh dismissal stung, but Maya was simply too exhausted to fight. The emotional whiplash of the last forty-eight hours finally caught up with her. She closed her eyes, her breathing eventually evening out as exhaustion dragged her down into the dark.

But Julian was wide awake.

He waited twenty minutes. When he was absolutely certain by the rhythm of her breathing that she was asleep, he slowly, agonizingly turned over.

In the pale moonlight bleeding through the sheer curtains, he watched her. The icy, untouchable mask he wore for the world completely shattered. His gray eyes softened, filling with a profound, aching longing that tore at his chest.

His hand trembled as he reached across the expanse of the bed. He didn't touch her. He didn't dare. He just let his fingers hover an inch above her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw in the empty air, feeling the faint warmth radiating from her skin.

Five years, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut. Five years of looking for you. Five years of nightmares.

He remembered the alleyway. He remembered the blood on her hands as she dragged him out of the wreckage of his kidnapped life, completely unaware of who she was saving. She was the only reason he was breathing. And he was terrified that if she ever found out he orchestrated this entire marriage just to keep her near him, she would run.

Suddenly, Maya let out a soft whimper.

Her brow furrowed in her sleep. She curled into a tight ball, shivering as a nightmare took hold.

Before logic could stop him, Julian moved closer. He carefully draped his heavy arm over her waist and pulled her backward, flush against his chest. He tensed, fully expecting her to wake up and scream at him.

Instead, Maya let out a deep sigh of relief. Unconsciously seeking out his body heat, she snuggled backward into his embrace, her hands naturally coming up to rest over his arm where it banded across her stomach.

Julian stopped breathing. His heart hammered against his ribs with such violent force he was sure it would wake her. He buried his face in her dark hair, inhaling the faint, sweet scent of cheap vanilla shampoo. It intoxicated him more than million-dollar whiskey ever had.

He had her. She was finally safe in his bed.

But the dread in his stomach warned him that this fragile illusion wouldn't last.

A sharp buzz cut through the silence.

Julian’s encrypted phone vibrated aggressively on the nightstand. Gently, painstakingly, he untangled himself from Maya, making sure not to wake her. He slipped out of bed and walked out to the balcony, sliding the glass door shut behind him to block the cold wind.

He pressed the phone to his ear. "Status."

"Mr. Sterling," his security chief's voice crackled through the line. "The compound is secured. The Petrovs are neutralized. But you need to see what we found in Silas’s safe."

Julian gripped the metal railing of the balcony. "Report."

"Maya didn't incur this debt from her father," the chief said grimly. "The paperwork is fake. The Petrovs were hired by a third party. They were paid a premium to torture her and eventually dispose of her."

Julian’s blood turned to liquid nitrogen. "Who hired them?"

"We traced the offshore accounts, sir. The money came from Beatrice Sterling. Your stepmother knows about the girl from the alley. She knows Maya is your weakness."