The morning light filtered through the tall glass windows, spilling across the marble floor like a cruel reminder of the night before. I hadn’t slept. How could I? My mind kept replaying the wedding — the flashing cameras, the fake smiles, the murmurs of the crowd when Adrian turned his head away from my lips.

That moment had burned itself into my chest. Everyone had seen it — the billionaire groom avoiding his new wife. I could almost hear the whispers. Maybe she forced him. Maybe it’s just business. Maybe she’s the charity case he’s saving.

The thought made my stomach twist.

I had spent half the night staring at the ceiling of the guest room in his penthouse, trying to steady my breathing. It was silent here — too silent. Not even the city dared disturb the air in Adrian Blackwell’s private world.

I forced myself out of bed, wrapping my robe tighter as I walked out. The penthouse was enormous — cold, sleek, and impersonal, like the man who owned it. Every inch of it screamed money and control. The black marble counters, the glass walls, the silver-framed art — everything meticulously placed, untouchable.

I followed the faint sound of movement to the kitchen.

Adrian stood there, his back to me, dressed in a dark suit already, as if the chaos of the wedding never happened. His posture was rigid, composed — the kind of man who’d rather break himself in half than admit weakness.

He didn’t turn when I entered. “You’re awake.”

His voice was cool, casual. Like we hadn’t just tied ourselves to each other for a year. Like he hadn’t humiliated me in front of half the city.

“Yes,” I managed. My tone was sharper than I intended. “Couldn’t really sleep after last night.”

A faint pause. He stirred his coffee slowly, the spoon clinking against the porcelain cup. “You’ll get used to the noise. The cameras, the press.”

“That’s not what kept me up.”

He finally turned then, his steel-gray eyes locking on mine. They were sharp — too sharp — like he could slice through me with a single look. “Then what did?”

I took a breath. I hadn’t planned on saying anything, but the words tumbled out before I could stop them. “You didn’t kiss me.”

His brow arched slightly. “Excuse me?”

“At the wedding,” I said, my voice trembling despite my effort to sound firm. “In front of everyone. You avoided me. You made me look like”

“Like what?” he interrupted, stepping closer. “Like a woman who wanted to kiss her husband?”

The mocking curve of his lips stung.

“That’s not what I meant,” I said, my heart pounding. “You embarrassed me. Everyone saw it. The investors, the media—”

“Good,” he cut in flatly, setting down his cup. “They’ll stop speculating that this marriage is real.”

I blinked. “So that’s your logic? Humiliate me to protect yourself?”

His tone dropped, lower now, more dangerous. “You agreed to a contract, Evelyn. Not romance. Not affection. Don’t confuse your roles.”

Anger flared through me, bright and unsteady. “I’m not confusing anything, Adrian. I just thought—”

“What?” he said sharply. “That I’d play the doting husband because you wore white and smiled for the cameras?”

My breath caught.

He moved closer again, the space between us shrinking. “Let me make something clear.” His voice was quiet, but it carried weight — that dangerous calm that made people afraid to breathe wrong around him. “You are here for one reason. To fix a problem. You are not my lover, not my partner, and definitely not entitled to my kiss.”

Something in me snapped. “Then why marry me at all?” I demanded, meeting his gaze. “Why not hire a PR team, spin a story, or find someone else willing to be your puppet?”

He smirked faintly. “Because you’re not like the others. You don’t pretend to love me.”

His words hung in the air between us — a confession and an insult at once.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to steady my voice. “And you? You don’t pretend to feel anything at all.”

That earned a flicker in his expression — gone almost instantly, but I saw it. A tiny crack in his perfect composure.

Then, just as quickly, he leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear as he murmured, “Now who’s begging for sex?

Just admit it you want me”

My entire body went still. I stepped back, stunned. “You’re disgusting.”

He smiled not kindly, not warmly, but like a man who enjoyed watching others lose control. “Don’t dish out emotion, Evelyn, if you can’t handle what comes back.”

I glared at him. “You think everything is a game, don’t you?”

“To survive in my world,” he said softly, “you either play or you lose.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. I turned away, trying to steady my shaking hands. Every second in this penthouse made me feel smaller — like I was shrinking beneath his shadow.

“Is this what our marriage will be?” I asked bitterly. “Trading insults until one of us breaks?”

He didn’t answer. He simply picked up his jacket from the counter and slipped it on, smooth and composed as ever. “I have meetings.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Of course you do.”

As he reached the door, I called after him, unable to stop myself. “Adrian.”

He paused but didn’t look back.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You could’ve just apologized. That’s all I wanted.”

He turned his head slightly, eyes unreadable. “Apologies are for people who regret their actions.”

“And you don’t?”

“No.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with the echo of my own heartbeat.

I pressed my palms to the counter, trying to calm the storm inside me. I told myself this was just business — that I didn’t care what he thought or did. But that was a lie. Because somewhere deep down, beneath the anger and confusion, something about him terrified me… and something else intrigued me even more.

Hours later, the sky turned gray. I wandered through the penthouse — not out of curiosity, but because the silence was too much. Every step echoed against the marble. Every room looked untouched, unlived-in. Until I reached a door I hadn’t seen before — dark wood, with a biometric lock.

For a moment, I hesitated. Then I reached out —

“Don’t.”

The voice was low, cold. I froze.

Adrian stood behind me, his jacket gone, his sleeves rolled up. His gaze was darker now, colder.

“Don’t what?” I asked quietly.

He stepped closer, until the air between us thinned. “Don’t wander around in my private space, Evelyn.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing.

His tone wasn’t just a warning. It was a threat.

And yet… beneath that threat, there was something else.