​Chapter 3: The Cold Mansion

​The sleek black limousine cut through the rainy city streets in total silence. Inside, the atmosphere was suffocating. Aria sat as close to the door as possible, her hands clutched tightly in her lap over the folds of her massive white gown.

​Beside her, Alexander relaxed back against the leather seat, an glass of amber whiskey held loosely in his long fingers. He hadn't said a word since they left the reception venue, but his presence filled the entire vehicle. Every now and then, Aria could feel his sharp, dark gaze scanning her profile.

​"You haven't touched your champagne," Alexander observed, his deep voice cutting through the heavy quiet.

​Aria jumped slightly, pulling her hands closer to her chest. "I... I don't feel like drinking right now."

​Alexander swirled the liquid in his glass, a subtle, cold smile touching his lips. "Fascinating. Yesterday, you threw a glass of expensive vintage across my office because it wasn't chilled to your exact preference. Today, you won't even take a sip."

​Aria's blood ran cold. Brianna, you idiot, she thought frantically, cursing her sister's awful behavior. She quickly swallowed her anxiety and tried to smooth over her response. "I'm just exhausted, Alexander. It's been a long day."

​"I suppose it has," he murmured, taking a slow sip. "A very long day of surprises."

​Before Aria could ask what he meant, the limousine turned into a private, heavily guarded estate and pulled up to a grand mansion. The stone architecture looked imposing under the night sky, resembling a modern fortress rather than a home.

​The driver opened the door, and Alexander stepped out first. Without a word, he offered his hand to help her down. Aria hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing her cold hand in his warm palm. As soon as her feet hit the pavement, Alexander didn't let go. Instead, he pulled her steadily toward the front doors.

​The grand foyer was lined with servants standing in a neat row. A stern-looking butler stepped forward, bowing respectfully. "Welcome home, Mr. Vance. Mrs. Vance."

​Hearing the title Mrs. Vance made Aria’s heart skip a nervous beat.

​"Have the staff clear the master suite," Alexander ordered smoothly. "And bring a lighter dinner upstairs in an hour."

​"Right away, sir."

​Alexander led Aria up the grand marble staircase, his grip on her hand remaining firm. They walked down a long, dimly lit hallway until he opened a pair of heavy mahogany doors, revealing a massive, luxurious master bedroom. A king-sized bed dominated the room, alongside floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline.

​Aria stepped inside, feeling like a prisoner walking into a gilded cage. She turned around to face him, keeping a cautious distance. "Is this... where I'm staying?"

​Alexander closed the heavy doors behind him with a soft click that resonated through the room. He slowly unbuttoned his suit jacket, tossing it onto a nearby leather armchair, before unbuttoning the top few buttons of his crisp white shirt.

​"Where else would my wife stay?" he asked, stepping closer to her.

​Aria backed up until the back of her knees hit the edge of the large bed. "I just thought... given our arrangement, maybe we could have separate rooms."

​Alexander stopped right in front of her. He towered over her, his imposing shadow completely engulfing her small frame. He reached out, his long fingers gently loosening the lace veil still resting on her head, tossing it aside onto the mattress.

​"Our arrangement?" Alexander repeated, his voice dropping an octave, dangerously smooth. He leaned down, placing one hand on the bed frame beside her, trapping her between his arms. "Brianna, you were the one who insisted on a grand public marriage to secure your family's status. Now that you have my name, you want separate rooms?"

​Aria could feel the intense heat radiating from his body. The scent of expensive cologne and rich tobacco enveloped her senses, making it hard to think straight.

​"Things are different now," Aria whispered, her hazel eyes wide with genuine vulnerability as she looked up into his dark obsidian eyes.

​Alexander stared down at her face, his eyes tracking every detail—from the tremble of her lips to the innocent fear in her eyes. The cold, calculated demeanor he usually wore seemed to crack for a split second, replaced by a deep, dark curiosity.

​He reached out, his thumb lightly tracing the delicate line of her jawline. "You're right," he whispered against her ear, his breath warm against her sensitive skin. "Things are very different. Because the woman standing in front of me right now isn't the arrogant socialite I signed a contract with."

​Aria held her breath, her heart pounding violently against her ribs.

​"So tell me," Alexander said, his grip on her chin tightening just enough to command absolute attention. "Who are you really?"