The drive to Damien's estate was silent, but the air between them crackled with tension.
Elise kept her gaze fixed on the passing cityscape, watching as familiar streets faded into unfamiliar roads. She wasn't sure what unnerved her more—the cryptic warning she had received last night or the man sitting beside her, exuding an aura of control so absolute it made her skin prickle.
Damien was working.
His attention was fixed on his phone, fingers gliding over the screen with effortless precision. He didn't spare her a glance, as if she were merely another business deal he had secured, something to be managed and handled.
That should have made her feel relieved.
It didn't.
Instead, an unsettling weight settled in her stomach.
What exactly was she stepping into?
Her thoughts spiraled until the car finally slowed, the hum of the engine quieting as they arrived at a set of towering iron gates.
Elise's breath hitched.
Beyond the gates stretched a property so massive it could have been its own world. The mansion loomed in the distance, an architectural masterpiece of glass and stone, its presence as cold and commanding as the man beside her.
The gates swung open without hesitation, and the car moved forward.
"Welcome home," Damien murmured.
The words sent a shiver down her spine.
This wasn't home.
This was a gilded prison.
---
Elise barely had time to process the sheer magnitude of the estate before a staff of neatly dressed attendants greeted them at the entrance.
Damien stepped out first, buttoning his suit jacket with practiced ease.
"Elise." His voice was a command.
She inhaled sharply before following, gripping the handle of her suitcase like a lifeline.
The moment her feet touched the marble floors, she felt it—the weight of belonging to him.
Every person in this house would see her as his possession, his trophy, his wife in name but not in heart.
She wouldn't let them break her.
A woman in her early forties approached, her expression poised and unreadable.
"Mrs. Lancaster," she greeted with a small nod. "I am Victoria, the estate manager. If you require anything, please let me know."
Mrs. Lancaster.
The title felt foreign. Not hers. Not real.
Elise forced a polite nod. "Thank you."
Victoria turned to Damien. "The room has been prepared, sir."
Elise's fingers tightened around the suitcase handle.
"The room?" she echoed, a small sliver of hope curling in her chest.
Would they be in separate rooms? Separate wings of this massive house?
Damien's smirk was slow, lethal.
"Our room," he corrected smoothly.
The hope shattered instantly.
Of course.
Of course, he wouldn't make this easy.
Elise forced herself to keep her expression neutral, but Damien saw through her. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only she could hear.
"Did you think I'd let my wife sleep anywhere but beside me?"
Her pulse quickened.
"This marriage is for appearances," she hissed under her breath. "Don't play games with me."
"I don't play games," Damien replied, his tone dangerously soft. "I make the rules."
A muscle in Elise's jaw tightened, but she didn't argue.
She couldn't argue.
Not yet.
Not when she still didn't know what she was truly up against.
And certainly not when a warning lingered in her mind.
Be careful. He's more dangerous than you think.