Chapter 4 The Rules Of The Game

Vivienne stirred awake, her eyes fluttering open to a soft morning light seeping through the floor-to-ceiling windows. For a brief second, she forgot where she was. The sheets beneath her were silk, the ceiling unfamiliar, and the faint scent of expensive cologne clung to the air. Then it hit her. She was in Damian Volkov's penthouse. She sat up too quickly, her heart thudding. Her dress from the gala had been replaced with one of his white button-down shirts, crisp against her skin. Her memories of last night flooded back. The contract. The gala. Caleb's face.

Damian's cold hands on her back. The way his eyes lingered on her after she snapped at Caleb. Vivienne ran a hand through her hair and climbed out of bed. Her bare feet touched the cold marble floor as she padded toward the door. She had no idea where she was going, but she couldn't stay in that bed. Not with the way it made her feel,like she belonged in his world. Like she was becoming his. The penthouse was eerily quiet. She passed sleek furniture, abstract art, glass shelves filled with books. Everything screamed wealth and control. She felt out of place, like a charity case in a billionaire's museum. "Good. You're awake." She turned sharply. Damian stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, black coffee in one hand, tablet in the other. He was dressed in a dark grey shirt and slacks, already prepared for the day. His presence filled the space even when he barely moved. Vivienne pulled the shirt tighter around her body. "Did you undress me?" He didn't look up from the tablet. "You fainted in the car. The maid handled it." "I didn't faint," she snapped. "You were shaking and pale. I decided not to carry you into the house in front of the staff." He finally glanced up, his gaze unreadable. "You're welcome." She crossed her arms. "Don't pretend to care, Damian." A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'm not pretending. I just don't like people collapsing on my property." Vivienne glared. "You could've let me stay in a guest room." "I did. That's not my room." Her face burned. "Oh." Silence fell between them. She hated how calm he was. How steady. She felt like her whole world had just cracked open and he was making coffee. He tapped the screen. "Sit. Eat something. You look like you haven't had a proper meal in days." "I'm not hungry." "You're no use to me if you pass out again. Sit." She reluctantly walked over and took the seat at the island, refusing to look at him. A plate of toast, eggs, and fruit sat waiting, too perfectly arranged to be real. She stared at it without touching anything. He sipped his coffee. "Last night was a test. You passed." She glanced at him. "A test for what?" "To see if you could hold yourself in public. If you'd embarrass me. You didn't." She swallowed hard. "And Caleb?" "I didn't expect that part," he admitted, setting his cup down. "I underestimated how much seeing him would affect you." Vivienne's hands curled into fists under the counter. "He doesn't matter." "He seemed to think otherwise." She looked up, anger flashing in her eyes. "Don't twist things. He left me when my family lost everything. And you, you swooped in like a vulture to clean up the remains." Damian leaned forward slightly, his voice low. "You signed the contract, Vivienne. Don't confuse necessity with cruelty." Her chest tightened. "So what now? I parade around on your arm for the next year and pretend we're some happy couple?" "No." He folded his arms. "You obey the rules. You don't cause scandals. You don't fall in love." Her breath caught. "Why would you say that last part?" "Because it's the one rule that always gets broken." Their eyes locked. Something flickered in his gaze, too fast to catch. She looked away first. Before she could respond, the elevator pinged and the doors slid open. Vivienne stood quickly as a tall, elegant woman stepped in. She wore a navy dress, pearl earrings, and a cold smile. Her grey hair was pinned back with perfect precision. Her eyes, however, were unmistakably Damian's. "Mother," he said without looking away from Vivienne. "You're early." The woman walked toward them like she owned the world. Her eyes scanned Vivienne slowly, head to toe, before resting back on her son. "I came to meet your wife," she said, her voice smooth and icy. "Though I expected someone... different." Vivienne felt the judgment in every word. "I'm Vivienne," she said, trying to sound composed. The woman arched a brow. "Yes, I know. Damian mentioned you in passing. Or rather, he mentioned the arrangement." Vivienne's stomach twisted. So she knew. "I assume you know how to act in public," the woman continued. "I don't want to see headlines with your name attached to anything scandalous." "She's capable," Damian said, stepping closer to Vivienne. "I trust her." His mother raised an eyebrow. "Trust is a dangerous currency, darling. You always spend it too fast." Vivienne bit her lip, holding in the urge to snap back. She didn't owe this woman anything. Not her past. Not her story. "Do you have plans today?" his mother asked, ignoring Vivienne now. Damian nodded. "Work. Meetings. Then I'm taking Vivienne to the estate for the weekend. We'll be seen." His mother gave a thin smile. "Lovely. Nothing screams real marriage like photo ops." She turned to leave but paused at the elevator. "A word of advice, Vivienne. If you're going to play the part, learn the rules of the game. Because one misstep, and people like us won't forget it." The doors slid shut behind her. Vivienne exhaled. "Is that what I'm dealing with now? Arrogant in-laws with trust issues?" "You'll get used to her," Damian replied, finishing his coffee. She stood. "Don't count on it." He watched her for a moment, then pulled his phone from his pocket. "Pack a bag. I'll have someone prepare the car. We leave in an hour." "Where are we going?" "The Volkov estate. You'll meet the rest of the family." Vivienne's blood ran cold. "You're throwing me to the wolves already?" He smirked. "They don't bite unless you make them bleed first." She stared at him. "And if I do?" He looked at her then, really looked like he could see something she hadn't figured out about herself yet. "Then I'll know I chose right." He left her standing in the kitchen, heart pounding, wondering who the real enemy was.