Chapter Five

Mila’s POV

I stood in front of Ace’s door with three big suitcases and a headache that wouldn’t go away. This situation was stressing me out.

I thought about taking an Uber and going straight to the airport to run to another country but I couldn’t. My father would find me no matter where I ran to.

I had pleaded with him multiple times since the dinner to change his mind about the move but he wouldn’t listen. As much as I’d love to run away from this, this is my life now. 

I rang the doorbell and stepped back, wondering why he chose the farthest mansion in the estate to live in. The house was really huge, with tall gates and cold stone walls. Everything about it screamed strict and controlling.

Ace was dressed in a white Tshirt and grey sweatpants when the door opened. Classic. The white shirt hugged his upper body in a very flattering manner and his hair looked damp and slightly messy, like he just showered. 

For a moment, we just stared at each other. 

“So,” I said bluntly. “I’m here.”

His eyes dropped to my suitcase. “I can see that.”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t need to sound so thrilled. I’m not staying long.”

“Trust me…I’m not,” he said.

He stepped aside. “Come in.”

I tried to drag my suitcase along but he stopped me.

“You don’t have to, they’ll bring it up soon,” he said.

“I can carry it,” I replied quickly.

“I know… But you don’t have to,” he replied calmly.

He took the suitcase in my hand, brushing his fingers over mine as he took the handle. It was brief but my body reacted anyway which felt really weird.

He motioned for me to go in.

It felt weird to walk in. The inside was just as big as the outside. White walls rose high above me with glass windows all over, the floors were smooth marble, and the wide staircase curved upward like something from a movie. 

It was beautiful, but it felt cold, like it wasn’t lived in. Just owned.

“It looks like a hotel,” I muttered.

“It’s a home,” he said, shutting the door.

“For who?” I replied. “I feel like if I breathe too loudly it might echo.”

He gave me a quick look. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I’m not sure I want to,” I replied calmly.

He didn’t answer. He started walking and I followed behind him. We walked up the stairs side by side in silence until we got to the top. Not close enough to touch but close enough that I was aware of him. Of the way he moved and how his presence filled the space without trying.

“Your room is in the east wing,” he said. “Far from mine. I figured you’d want your own space.”

“Thank you,” I said.

At the end of the hallway, he came to a stop in front of a large door and pushed it open. 

The room was beautiful and huge, even bigger than my old one. Big tall glass windows, large grey curtains, white tall walls and a walk-in closet filled with clothes I didn’t recognize.

I stared at it. “What is this?”

“Your things,” he said. “My father handled it.”

“Of course he did,” I muttered. “I’m just another project.”

Ace set my bag down. “You don’t have to unpack tonight.”

“I didn’t ask,” I said.

The silence returned.

I sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling tired, angry and trapped. I questioned if I could still get out of this.

“So what now?” I asked. “Do we fake being happy?”

“No,” he said. “We live side by side.”

I looked at him. “You sound sure.”

“I’m practical,” he said.

I turned to him. “You make this sound easy.”

“It’s not,” he said sharply. “I’m just trying to avoid making things more difficult.”

I looked away, my chest tight. “I don’t want to be your problem.”

“You’re not,” he said softly. “You’re just… here.”

That struck me more deeply than I had anticipated.

I put down my purse and sat on the edge of the bed. I suddenly lost the will to fight this. No matter how much I tried to resist, I wouldn’t escape this.

“I’m tired,” I admitted. “Of fighting. Of being angry.”

He watched me while leaning against the door frame.

“Then don’t fight tonight,” he said calmly. “Just breathe.”

I nodded.

Silence settled again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It was lighter.

“I should warn you,” I said, glancing up. “I take up space. And I talk in my sleep.”

His lips curved slightly. “Good. This house needs noise.”

I laughed softly. The sound surprised both of us.

Our eyes met.

Something shifted.

Just awareness, not heat or desire. The kind that caused my heart to beat a little faster and slowed my breathing.

“I still don’t accept this marriage,” I said.

“I know,” he replied.

“And I won’t make this easy.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

I looked at  him. “You’re not who I expected you to be.”

“That makes two of us.”

I moved closer, I could feel his warmth and smell the subtle aroma of soap and something deeper beneath. 

The air between us became tighter. He remained motionless. didn't make it. didn't go overboard. My heart faltered at that restraint. 

I whispered, "Good night, Ace."

"Good night, Mila." 

As I watched him go, my anger subsided and my chest became more stable. This life was still not what I wanted. But as I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, I realized something frightening.

 For the first time since the start of this... I didn't feel all by myself.