CHAPTER TWO: HIS RULES

I settled into my room.

The room looked so beautiful, painted in a soft shade of pink. Like he had decorated it just for me.

My room was spacious and beautiful, more beautiful than my room at home. Everything in the room looked expensive. It had to. After all, it was Damien, one of the richest men I knew.

I walked around the room, touching a few things as I admired them.

There was a large bed in the middle of the room, covered with a soft pink duvet. The curtains matched the walls perfectly, and beside the window was a small reading table with a lamp on it.

There was also a huge wardrobe.

I opened it and almost gasped.

There were already a few clothes hanging inside.

I turned around, looking at the room again.

“Did he actually do all this for me?”

I smiled.

I couldn’t help it.

Damien had always been thoughtful.

Even when I was younger, he would remember the little things I liked. If I told him I loved a particular meal, he would make sure it was available whenever I visited. If I complained about being bored, he always found something to entertain me.

Maybe that was why my feelings for him had become so complicated.

He had always been good to me.

Too good.

I sat in front of the vanity, looking at myself through the large mirror. I was about to restyle my hair into a more comfortable style when someone knocked at my door.

Before I could answer, the door opened.

It was Damien.

He walked in without waiting for permission.

I looked at him through the mirror.

It was then I remembered that I had taken my bra off. I was only wearing a shirt and shorts.

My heart skipped.

I immediately became conscious of myself.

Damien’s eyes met mine through the mirror.

For a moment, neither of us said anything.

Then he cleared his throat.

“Come downstairs. Let’s have breakfast together. I’ll be waiting in the dining room.”

He said it calmly and turned around.

Just before leaving, he took one last glance at me through the mirror.

Then he walked out.

Immediately, I hurriedly put my bra back on.

A thought drifted into my mind.

Why do you want to wear a bra?

Wasn’t this what I wanted?

Didn’t I want him to notice that I wasn’t a little girl anymore?

I wanted that.

I knew I did.

But now that I had caught him looking at me, I suddenly didn’t know what to do with myself.

I shook my head.

“Get yourself together, Jane.”

I finished fixing my hair and headed downstairs.

When I got to the dining room, Damien was already seated.

He looked up when I walked in.

“Come.”

He gestured toward the chair opposite him.

I sat down.

The dining table was beautifully arranged, and the smell of food filled the room.

I looked at the plate in front of me.

Pancakes.

There was butter beside them and a jar of apple syrup.

My face immediately lit up.

“You remembered.”

Damien looked at me.

“Remembered what?”

“That I love pancakes.”

He gave a small smile.

“You’ve always loved them.”

I smiled.

Damien had always been a great cook.

That was one of the reasons I loved him when I was younger.

He would prepare all kinds of tasty meals for me whenever I visited. Sometimes, he would let me sit in the kitchen and watch him cook while he complained about me distracting him.

I used to laugh whenever he complained.

Those memories felt different now.

I picked up my fork and took a bite.

“This is still the best pancake I’ve ever had.”

“It’s just pancakes, Jane.”

“It’s not just pancakes when you make them.”

He looked at me for a moment before returning his attention to his plate.

I smiled.

Maybe I had said too much.

We continued eating in silence for a while.

It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence.

At least, not for him.

I was the one becoming increasingly aware of everything.

The way he held his fork.

The way his eyes occasionally moved toward me.

The way he seemed completely comfortable while I was struggling to act normal.

I took another bite of my pancake.

I needed to stop thinking too much.

Halfway into the meal, Damien reached beside him and brought out a sheet of paper.

He stretched it toward me.

“These are my rules, Jane. You must abide by them.”

I looked at the paper before taking it from him.

“You’re seriously giving me rules?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You’re no longer twelve.”

Something about the way he said it made my stomach flutter.

I collected the sheet from him, and our fingers brushed.

I quickly pulled my hand away.

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Nothing.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, as though he knew I was hiding something.

I looked down at the paper.

“I’ll go through the rules, Daddy, and abide by them.”

The moment I said the word Daddy, his expression changed.

It was quick.

So quick that someone else might have missed it.

But I didn’t.

He cleared his throat and returned his attention to his breakfast.

I couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on my lips.

So he did react to it.

We continued our meal, but I found myself thinking about the sheet of paper more than the food in front of me.

What kind of rules could he possibly have?

I was twenty years old, not twelve.

Surely he knew that.

When I finished eating, I stood up and began clearing the dishes.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“I can.”

I carried the dishes to the kitchen and placed them inside the dishwasher.

When I returned, Damien was still seated at the table, checking something on his phone.

“I’m going upstairs.”

He looked up.

“Good.”

I frowned.

“Good?”

“You should get some rest. You had a long journey.”

I nodded.

“Okay.”

I turned to leave.

“Jane.”

I stopped and looked back.

“Yes?”

“Remember the rules.”

I smiled.

“I haven’t even read them yet.”

“You’ll understand why they’re there when you do.”

His voice was serious.

I nodded before heading upstairs.

Getting to my room, I closed the door behind me.

I slipped the piece of paper out of my pocket and sat on my bed.

I unfolded it.

At the top, in Damien’s neat handwriting, were the words:

Here are my rules, Babygirl.

I stared at the word for a few seconds.

Babygirl?

Why would he call me that?

I shook my head and continued reading.

1. You don’t leave the house without my approval.

2. Limit your screen time.

3. Breakfast is at 8:00 a.m.

4. Don’t touch anything that doesn’t belong to you.

5. No strangers are allowed in the house.

6. You are not allowed into my private office.

7. No alcohol or reckless driving while you’re staying here.

I frowned.

I read the rules again.

The first one annoyed me.

I don’t leave the house without his approval?

Was he serious?

I was twenty years old.

I wasn’t a child anymore.

The second one was even worse.

Limit my screen time?

I dropped the paper onto my bed and stared at the ceiling.

“This is ridiculous.”

I picked it up again.

At the bottom of the page was one final sentence.

Failure to follow these rules will attract consequences.

I stared at the word consequences.

What exactly did Damien mean by that?

I couldn’t help but wonder.

Would he actually punish me for breaking one of his rules?

I smiled.

Maybe I should find out.

I immediately shook my head.

“No.”

I had only been in his house for a few hours, and I was already thinking about breaking his rules.

This was exactly why he had written them in the first place.

I folded the paper and placed it on the bedside table.

I was going to follow his rules.

At least, I would try.

But something told me that spending an entire summer under Damien Maxwell’s roof wasn’t going to be as simple as I had imagined.

And somehow, I had a feeling that those seven rules were going to be the least of my problems.