Chapter 4: Billionaire’s House

I didn’t expect the penthouse to feel like this. When I imagined Koven’s home, I thought of sleek lines, polished surfaces, and luxury that suffocated you with its perfection. But standing here, I realized it wasn’t just the house that felt cold—it was him.

The door to the penthouse opened with a quiet swish, and I stepped in, feeling the weight of the silence settle around me. The space was stunning, the kind of beauty that made you feel small. It wasn’t just a home; it was a fortress.

Koven was already inside, of course. He didn’t wait for me. He never did.

“Your room is down the hall,” he said, barely looking at me as he passed.

I nodded, following his lead, my footsteps echoing in the vastness of the place. Everything was pristine. Too pristine. Like a museum that was never meant to be touched.

When I reached the guest room, I hesitated. The door was already open, and the room was everything I could expect—expensive but cold, with no personal touch to make it feel like a home. No warmth. Just a bed, a desk, and a single chair by the window.

It looked like the kind of room someone would stay in for a night, not for a year.

I stepped inside, putting my things down, even though I hadn’t brought much with me. Just the bare essentials. No need to get attached.

But as I turned to leave, I noticed the door across the hall. The master bedroom. Koven’s bedroom.

The door was slightly ajar. I could feel the weight of it from across the room, the unspoken command that lurked behind it. I should’ve looked away. I should’ve kept my eyes on the guest room. But something about it tugged at me.

Then I heard his voice.

“You’re not supposed to be there.”

I froze. He hadn’t even stepped into the hallway, but I could hear the warning in his tone, like it was engraved into his words. Cold. Firm. Almost as if I was violating some invisible rule.

I turned to face him, his eyes narrowed, his stance rigid.

“I wasn’t planning to go in,” I said, my voice steady despite the growing tension in the air. “But you did leave the door open.”

His eyes darkened slightly, the faintest flicker of something I couldn’t place crossing his features.

“I didn’t ask you in,” he replied, voice low, but the warning was clear. “Stay out of my room, Zephyra. Unless I ask you in.”

He didn’t say more before he turned, walking toward the door at the end of the hall—his domain, I supposed.

I stayed where I was, watching him disappear into the shadows.

The night didn’t bring any comfort. I lay in the guest room, tossing and turning. The bed was soft, the pillows plush, but there was no escaping the silence. It was suffocating.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Koven. About that door. About the way he had said it—almost like a dare. Stay out, unless I ask you in. As if it were an unspoken rule I would break if I dared to step too close.

Was he testing me?

I didn’t know.

But what I did know was that the cold in this place wasn’t just the lack of warmth in the walls. It was him. His presence, his control. He was a man who didn't share easily, and even more so, he didn’t want to be understood.

That thought nagged at me, but sleep finally claimed me, pulling me into a restless dream.

The next morning, I woke to the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the blinds. It was still early, and the house was silent. I rose, slowly, not wanting to disturb the stillness.

I walked to the kitchen, the space just as pristine as the rest of the house. Koven was already there, a glass of black coffee in his hand, standing by the counter.

“You don’t need to make yourself scarce,” he said without looking up, his tone cool but... not unkind. “This is your place too, for the time being.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. Was he trying to be civil? Or was it another test?

“Thanks,” I muttered, reaching for a cup.

We stood in silence, the tension between us thick. I poured myself a cup of coffee, the bitter liquid somehow making everything feel sharper, more real.

When I finally sat down at the island, Koven glanced at me, his eyes dark with something unreadable. It was like he was studying me, measuring me in ways I didn’t understand.

“You should get ready,” he said after a long pause. “We have an event tonight.”

“An event?” I repeated, looking at him in confusion.

He gave a small nod. “It’s important. You’ll need to look the part.”

I didn’t ask for details. I didn’t need to. I already knew what he meant.

Later, after I had dressed in something more suitable for whatever game he was playing, I stood in front of the mirror, fixing my hair. The reflection staring back at me seemed different now. A stranger, a woman in a contract marriage, trying to keep her footing in a world that wasn’t hers.

I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of game Koven was playing. He was cold. Distant. But there was something in the way he moved, the way he said those words—unless I ask you in—that made me feel like he was daring me to step closer.

I didn’t want to be curious. But I couldn’t help myself.

I couldn’t stop looking at the door.

The event that night was grand. The kind of gala that only people like Koven Mavros could host. And of course, I was his arm candy, his perfect little accessory to the perfect world.

I tried to keep a low profile, but there were too many eyes on me. Too many whispers. I could feel their stares, their judgment, as they tried to figure out who I was, what I was doing here.

And then, of course, there was the CEO.

He came over, a little too confident for my liking, and made some offhand comment about how I didn’t belong in a place like this. I could feel the blood rushing to my head. The audacity. The nerve.

Without thinking, I took my drink and threw it right in his face.

The room went silent. Even Koven turned to look.

“Zephyra,” he said, his voice dark, almost... amused. “That wasn’t necessary.”

I stood my ground. “He insulted me.”

“You’re right.” Koven’s voice was dangerously calm as he stepped closer, his presence making my heart race. “But now you’ll have to pay for it.”

Before I could react, he grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the door.

The cool night air hit me as he shoved me into the limo, the door slamming behind us.

And then he pinned me down, his face inches from mine.

“You wanted to be punished, didn’t you?” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear.

I couldn’t breathe. My heart pounded in my chest, the tension between us thick.

I didn’t know what he wanted. But I didn’t dare move.