Chapter 5: Welcome to My World

The car ride to Jordan's estate was silent. Amira sat stiffly, her hands folded in her lap, while Jordan remained unreadable beside her. The weight of the ring on her finger felt heavier with every passing mile, a constant reminder of the contract she had just signed her life away to.

When the car finally pulled up to a towering mansion surrounded by high walls and security cameras, her breath caught. The house—no, the estate—was massive, with grand marble columns, pristine gardens, and windows so large they reflected the sky.

Jordan stepped out first, adjusting his suit as if this were just another day in his perfectly controlled life. The driver opened her door, and Amira hesitated before stepping onto the stone-paved driveway.

"This is your home now," Jordan said casually, but there was no warmth in his voice.

Home.

The word felt foreign.

A well-dressed older woman approached them, her demeanor strict yet professional. "Mr. Carter, Mrs. Carter. Welcome."

Amira stiffened at the title. Mrs. Carter.

"This is Martha," Jordan explained. "She's the head housekeeper. If you need anything, she'll handle it."

Martha nodded. "I've prepared the master bedroom for you both, as per your instructions, sir."

Amira's heart stilled. "Wait… we're sharing a room?"

Jordan shot her a glance, his expression calm yet firm. "People will talk if we don't. It's for appearances."

Her stomach twisted, but she said nothing. She had agreed to this. She couldn't back out now.

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The Master Bedroom

When Martha led her inside, Amira was stunned. The bedroom was enormous, with tall windows draped in silk curtains, a private balcony overlooking the estate, and a king-sized bed in the center of the room. The entire space screamed wealth and power—just like Jordan.

She turned to him, arms crossed. "This wasn't in the contract."

Jordan loosened his tie, clearly unfazed. "You'll have your space. I won't touch you unless you want me to."

The confidence in his voice made her pulse race. "That won't happen," she shot back.

A smirk played on his lips, but he didn't argue. Instead, he walked toward the adjoining room and disappeared inside, leaving her alone.

Amira exhaled, pressing a hand to her chest. She had survived the wedding. Now, she had to survive living with him.

But as she stared at the bed they were meant to share, one thing became clear.

This marriage might be fake… but the tension between them was very, very real.