The ascent to the marital suite in Liam's fortress felt like an irreversible climb toward a precipice. Piya's small bags, carrying the remnants of her old life, were already inside. The immense scale of the mansion was terrifying, but the thought of sharing a single room with the man who radiated cold authority was suffocating.
Liam led her up the grand, floating staircase, his silence more unnerving than any command. "This wing is entirely private. Staff access is strictly limited," he stated, his voice a low, precise instrument. He stopped before the imposing, dark wood door of the suite, the click of the lock a chilling sound of finality.
The room was vast, dominated by shades of charcoal, steel, and ivory. A monumental King-sized bed, dressed in pristine white linens, sat high on a raised platform, drawing the eye instantly.
Liam walked to the center of the room, his figure dominating the space. "This is the marital suite," he announced, his gaze sweeping over the bed. "For public appearances, we occupy this space together. There is no pretense of a separate arrangement."
He moved toward a sleek, black wall that concealed the dressing area. With a smooth gesture, he opened the twin doors to reveal a massive, interconnected walk-in closet. Piya's simple, humble wardrobe, already hung, occupied one small corner, looking utterly swallowed by the expanse dedicated to Liam's collection of bespoke suits and tailored shirts.
"The amenities are shared, Piya," Liam stated, his voice utterly devoid of emotion. "You will use this space. Your belongings will coexist with mine. Any items required for your new social role will be added here."
Piya stared at the shared space—his sharp, expensive cologne bottles on the counter beside the space reserved for her humble hairbrush; his cufflink trays adjacent to her few pieces of modest jewelry. The lack of physical separation was designed to maximize the intimacy of the routine, even if the relationship itself was sterile.
The contract might promise emotional distance, but the architecture of their life now demanded physical proximity. She would wake up to his scent, watch him dress, and navigate the intimacy of their morning routines without the comfort of privacy. The tension would be a constant, suffocating companion.
Liam picked up a small, sealed box from the bedside table and handed it to her. "Your new phone and number. It is solely for communication between us and my private security. Your personal phone may be kept, but never used for anything related to my family or the company."
He then moved to the King-sized bed, his tall, imposing figure casting a shadow over the white sheets. "We share this bed, Piya."
Piya stiffened, her resolve faltering completely. "The contract said no expectation of marital intimacy," she whispered, her voice laced with fear.
Liam's dark eyes fixed on her, cold and steady. "And that term remains absolute. The line of the contract is the only barrier between us. You will occupy the side nearest the window. I will take the side nearest the door."
He leaned in slightly, his proximity sending a shiver down her spine. "I keep my promises, Piya. We will sleep here, feet apart, inches away from a contact that is explicitly forbidden. The distance is not physical, it is contractual. Do you understand the difference?"
The difference was agonizing. A physical barrier offered safety; a contractual one was a constant, deliberate temptation that relied solely on his ruthless self-control and her terrified obedience. It was a test of willpower, not architecture.
"What happens if... if I break the rule?" Piya asked, needing to hear the threat once more, needing to anchor her fear to something tangible.
Liam's mouth curved into the faintest, almost predatory smile. "If you compromise the contract, Piya," he stated, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low register, "the consequences of my possessive nature will become very real. And I assure you, you would rather face my father than my impatience."
He straightened, the moment of charged warning instantly vanishing. "I have business to attend to. Dinner will be served in an hour. Dress accordingly. You are on my time now."
He walked toward a remote part of the room, disappearing through a door to his private office. Piya was left alone in the vast, open suite, the King-sized bed looming large and cold—a constant, immediate reminder that her greatest fear and her most dangerous attraction were now lying just inches away, separated only by a promise written on paper.