Chapter 2 Games We Pretend Not to Play

The silence after my outburst wrapped around the room like smoke-thick, inescapable. Damien stood there, unmoved, his grey eyes fixed on me as if I were a puzzle he didn't care enough to solve.

"You're angry," he said flatly.

"Of course, I'm angry!" I snapped. "You married me like it was a business acquisition, disappeared for two days, and now I'm just supposed to sit quietly in your giant empty house like some... designer ornament?"

Damien took a sip from his glass. "I told you not to expect more."

"That's not how marriages work," I hissed.

He looked amused. "Is that what you think this is? A marriage?"

I blinked. "What else would you call it?"

"A transaction," he said simply. "A deal your father made. You were the collateral."

His words hit like a slap.

I took a step back, my heart pounding. "You're unbelievable."

Damien placed his glass down and walked toward me slowly. "Let me make this easy for you, Elena. You live here. You wear the ring. You attend the functions. You smile when necessary. That's it. We don't need to pretend anything else."

"And what do you get?" I asked, breath trembling. "Revenge?"

He stopped inches away. "I get peace."

That confused me more than I'd like to admit.

"You're lying," I said softly.

"And you're still trying to understand me." He smirked. "Cute."

Before I could say something scathing, my phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket, grateful for the interruption. The name on the screen made my breath hitch.

Luca.

Damien's gaze flicked to the phone, and in that instant, his entire demeanor shifted. Coldness wrapped around him like armor.

I stepped away and answered.

"Luca?"

"Elena," he said quickly, "Are you okay? You disappeared. You're not answering texts. I called your father but he hung up on me-what the hell is going on?"

I hesitated. Damien was still watching me, unmoving.

"Luca, I can't talk right now," I whispered.

"Elena, listen to me," he said, his voice sharp now. "I saw a photo. You were with Damien Volkov. Tell me that's not real."

My silence was answer enough.

"Elena, are you-" he paused, breathing hard. "Are you with him? Did he force-?"

"No," I cut in quickly. "It's... it's complicated."

"Complicated?" Luca repeated. "Elena, this man-he destroyed your family. He's dangerous. This can't be happening."

"I have to go," I said, heart racing.

Damien's expression hadn't changed, but the atmosphere around him was tenser now-like something coiled and waiting to strike.

I hung up and placed the phone on the marble counter.

"Your boyfriend's worried," Damien said. "How sweet."

"He's not my boyfriend," I said immediately.

"No?" His voice dropped an octave. "Because he sounds like a man who thinks you belong to him."

"No one owns me," I said.

"Wrong," Damien said, stepping closer. "I do. At least on paper. And I don't like sharing what's mine-even when I don't want it."

I stared at him, pulse hammering.

"Is that what I am to you? Something you don't want but keep around anyway?" I asked bitterly.

He didn't answer. He didn't need to.

I turned away and stormed out of the room.

---

That Night

I couldn't sleep. The walls of the estate seemed to press in around me, each corner whispering reminders of the life I'd signed away. I stared at the ceiling until sunrise and then forced myself out of bed.

Downstairs, the kitchen was empty. A steaming cup of black coffee sat waiting, along with a plate of croissants. I hesitated. This wasn't a coincidence.

"Your husband insisted you be fed properly," Marcel said from behind me. "He left early this morning. Business in Zurich."

Of course he did.

"Thank you," I muttered, sitting.

I picked at the food without appetite. My phone buzzed again. Another text from Luca:

> I'm coming to Monaco. Don't try to stop me.

I stared at the message, panic rising in my throat.

What the hell was I supposed to do?

---

Later That Afternoon

I found myself wandering into the west wing of the estate. It was quieter here, darker. The hallway was lined with photos-mostly black-and-white, all of them unnerving. Men in suits. Women with veiled faces. A history painted in power.

At the very end of the hall was a locked door. The only one I'd seen in the house. Unlike the others, this one was painted black with a silver handle. It didn't match the rest of the aesthetic.

And I couldn't explain why, but something about it made my skin crawl.

I was still staring when Anastasia appeared behind me.

"That door is off limits," she said.

I turned, startled. "Why?"

She stepped closer, her heels silent on the polished floor. "Because what's behind it is none of your concern."

"Was it your idea?" I asked quietly. "The marriage?"

She smiled without humor. "I don't care enough to arrange things. But I warned Damien about women like you."

"Women like me?"

"Soft. Pretty. Easily broken."

I lifted my chin. "I'm not as breakable as you think."

Anastasia's eyes narrowed. "That's what his last fiancée said too."

I froze.

"She didn't last long," she added, then walked away.

---

Evening

I was alone in the massive library, pretending to read when Damien returned.

I heard his footsteps long before he appeared-measured, unhurried. He walked in, jacket slung over one arm, tie loosened, jaw tense.

He didn't speak right away. Just poured himself a drink and leaned against the bookshelf.

"You saw the door," he said finally.

I nodded. "What's in there?"

He took a sip. "Memories. Some locked away for good reason."

"That's not an answer."

He looked at me. "You're not owed one."

I stood. "You know, you keep pushing me like I'm made of glass. But I'm not."

He chuckled darkly. "No, Elena. You're not glass. You're fire. Dangerous when controlled. Deadly when ignored."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have lit the match," I said.

He stepped closer, and for the first time, there was something wild in his eyes-something broken and hungry.

"You want honesty?" he said. "Fine. I married you to spite your father. I wanted him to feel powerless. To know that the daughter he raised now sleeps under the roof of the man he hates."

"Except I don't sleep anywhere near you," I said.

"Yet."

The word hung in the air like a threat.

"I won't let you win," I whispered.

He smiled. "Then this might actually be fun."

---

Later That Night

I received another message from Luca. A single photo.

He was already in Monaco.

I stared at the screen, heart thundering. Damien couldn't find out. He'd kill him. Or worse.

So I deleted the photo.

But I had no idea that Damien already knew.