Chapter 5: Rules to Live By

Elena's Point Of View

The sharp blare of a car horn cut through the suffocating stillness of my room. I froze mid-motion, clutching the final suitcase that held remnants of my old life. A pang of regret gripped me as my gaze swept over the bedroom I had called my sanctuary for as long as I could remember. The posters on the walls, the chipped dresser I’d stubbornly refused to replace, all of it whispered memories of a time when my life was my own. But that was over now.

Wiping away the tears that blurred my vision, I steeled myself and heaved the suitcase toward the door. The horn sounded again, impatient this time, as though the world outside was eager to rip me away from the last vestiges of comfort I had.

When I stepped outside, the sleek black car idling at the curb seemed to absorb the very light around it, a fitting metaphor for the darkness that was about to consume me. The driver, a man with a neatly pressed suit and a face devoid of expression, stepped out and reached for my luggage without a word. I murmured a quiet thank-you, though he didn’t respond.

The moment the trunk slammed shut, I felt my chest tighten. As I slid into the backseat, the enormity of what was happening hit me all over again. I wasn’t just leaving my home; I was leaving behind freedom, identity, everything that made me me.

The tears came unbidden, hot and relentless. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window, hoping the passing scenery would distract me, but it only blurred into meaningless streaks of color. I didn’t realize when exhaustion finally claimed me.

A light tap on my shoulder stirred me from uneasy sleep. My eyes fluttered open to find the driver’s face peering down at me. “We’ve arrived, Miss Torres,” he said, his tone polite but distant.

I blinked a few times, disoriented, before stepping out of the car. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers. My eyes widened as I took in the estate before me. Estate didn’t seem adequate to describe it... it was a palace.

The grand facade loomed over me, its marble columns glowing softly in the moonlight. The gardens flanking the walkway were impossibly perfect, each flower meticulously arranged as if they had been plucked from a dream. Even my father’s mansion, which I’d always considered opulent, felt like a dollhouse compared to this.

But as I stepped through the massive double doors, the beauty of the exterior gave way to an interior that felt...cold. The air inside was heavy, and the muted tones of gray, white, and black only amplified the sense of sterility. There was no warmth, no sign of life. It was as though the house had been designed to intimidate rather than to welcome.

I was so absorbed in my surroundings that I didn’t notice him until his voice sliced through the silence.

“You’re late.”

My head snapped up to see Nicholas De Luca standing at the top of a sweeping staircase, one hand casually resting on the banister. My breath hitched.

If he had looked dangerously handsome in his office, he was downright devastating now. The tailored suit he wore was jet black, emphasizing the sharp lines of his physique and the quiet strength he exuded. His dark hair was tousled, as though he hadn’t bothered to tame it, and his piercing blue eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach twist.

I tried to speak, but my throat felt dry. All I could manage was a nod.

“Come upstairs,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. “I’ll show you to your room.”

I followed him, my footsteps hesitant against the gleaming hardwood floors. The hallways were vast, their walls adorned with abstract art pieces that screamed wealth and detachment.

When we reached a room at the far end of the corridor, Nicholas pushed the door open and stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter. The room was beautiful, larger than my entire apartment had been, with a four-poster bed and plush furniture in soft neutral tones.

“This will be your space,” he said curtly. “Decorate it as you like. It’s the only part of the house you’re allowed to alter.”

I turned to face him, my hands balling into fists. “You don’t have to be so condescending.”

He ignored my remark, his gaze steely. “There are rules you will follow while you’re here.”

The way he said it sent a chill down my spine. I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“First,” he began, his tone sharp, “you will not enter my home office for any reason unless I am inside. That space is off-limits.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he raised a hand, silencing me.

“Second,” he continued, “you will not alter or touch any part of this house aside from your room. Everything else remains exactly as it is.”

I bristled at the authoritarian edge in his voice but said nothing.

“Third,” Nicholas said, his eyes narrowing slightly, “you will only leave this house with my permission. No exceptions.”

My stomach sank. The walls around me seemed to close in, but he wasn’t finished.

“Fourth, no strangers are to enter this house without my explicit consent. This is non-negotiable.”

His final rule was the one that stung the most.

“And lastly,” he said, his tone cold enough to freeze the air between us, “you will not take my last name. To the outside world, you remain Elena Torres. No one is to know we are married.”

My heart twisted at his words, but I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself to stand tall. “Anything else, Your Highness?” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Nicholas stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. “Tread carefully, Elena,” he said softly, the menace in his voice unmistakable. “In my house, there are consequences for breaking the rules.”

The warning hung in the air like a storm cloud. He turned on his heel and strode to the door, pausing briefly before looking back.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow,” he said, his expression unreadable. “About your father’s properties. Get some rest.”

The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone in the silence of the room. I exhaled shakily, my legs giving out as I sank onto the edge of the bed.

I glanced around the lavish room, taking in the polished surfaces and the faint scent of fresh linens. It was beautiful, yes, but it felt more like a gilded cage than a sanctuary.

This wasn’t a home.

It was a prison.

And I had just walked into it willingly.