CHAPTER SIX — LIES AND LURKING SHADOWS
Emilia woke to the quiet hum of the city beneath Donovan Tower. Light spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long reflections across the marble floors of the penthouse. She lay in the bed she still didn't call her own, staring at the ceiling, mind racing.
Rule #1: Do not lie to him.
Rule #2: Obey instructions at events and appearances.
Rule #3: Do not leave without permission.
Rule #4: Do not involve anyone in our arrangement.
Rule #5: Maintain the appearance of closeness.
Rule #6: Stay in Donovan Tower.
Rule #7: If in danger, come to me first. Always.
Every rule felt alive, pressing against her ribs like a reminder that this life was nothing like the one she had known.
Breakfast Tension
Ares appeared before breakfast, the usual air of quiet dominance surrounding him. She had almost expected him to be cold, unapproachable, but today he moved differently—closer, deliberate, as if measuring her composure.
"Ready for today?" he asked. His voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge underneath.
"I… think so," she replied cautiously.
He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he gestured toward the black folder she had memorized. "Review the schedule. Pay attention. Every detail matters."
"Yes, sir," she said, swallowing hard. The words tasted foreign on her tongue. "Sir."
He didn't correct her. That small acknowledgment—allowing her to grow accustomed to the hierarchy—was enough to unsettle her. Emilia realized she was still learning the rhythm of his world, the delicate balance of obedience and survival.
The First Confrontation with Lydia
The day's first event was a private business luncheon, high-profile clients attending, whispers of mergers and investments floating in the air. Emilia had been briefed: stay close, maintain composure, observe, obey.
Then Lydia Hale appeared.
Tall, poised, radiant, and lethal in her elegance. She didn't need to speak to assert power—her presence alone radiated entitlement.
"Emilia Hart," she purred, leaning slightly toward her. "I wondered when I'd finally meet the woman who's dared to step into Mr. Donovan's orbit."
Emilia straightened. "I'm here for Mr. Donovan," she replied carefully, keeping her voice neutral.
Lydia's eyes sparkled with calculated malice. "Of course. We all have our roles to play."
Ares appeared instantly at her side, the space between them taut, unbreakable. His hand brushed the small of Emilia's back—not guiding, not protecting, just reminding her that she belonged in his shadow.
"Miss Hale," he said, voice flat, measured. "Do not speak to her again unless necessary."
Lydia's smile never faltered. "As you wish."
Emilia felt her chest tighten. This was more than social tension. This was war in the guise of civility.
Rules in Motion — Testing Emilia
The luncheon progressed. Emilia followed Ares's subtle cues: stand slightly to his left, keep hands folded lightly, smile but not too much, answer questions honestly, observe everything.
A minor slip—a misstep with her wine glass—was noticed immediately by Lydia. Emilia's pulse spiked, heart hammering.
Ares's sharp gaze cut across the room. His hand briefly touched hers, grounding and warning at once. She straightened, nodded, and corrected herself without speaking. Rule #1 in action.
"You're learning," he murmured as they left the table. His voice was quiet, but every word carried weight. "Do not falter again."
"Yes, sir," she whispered.
An Unexpected Threat
Later, as they exited the venue, a figure lingered in the shadows—a man she hadn't noticed before. His eyes tracked her, cold, calculating.
Ares's hand gripped her elbow, pulling her slightly behind him. "Stay calm," he instructed, low and dangerous.
The man's gaze didn't waver. He whispered something that Emilia barely caught:
"You belong to him… but you're not safe."
Her stomach dropped.
Ares turned, stormy and unreadable. "Do not approach him. He is not worth your attention."
Yet the presence lingered, unsettling her. Emilia realized Rule #7 wasn't just a rule—it was a shield she had to remember to use at all times.
Private Moment — Emotional Stakes Rising
Back at Donovan Tower, Emilia found herself alone in the penthouse lounge, the city lights stretching endlessly beyond the windows. She sank into the couch, exhausted, fingers tracing the edges of the black folder.
Ares appeared silently, as if drawn to her energy. He didn't sit, didn't smile. He simply studied her.
"You're adapting," he said, voice low, almost approving.
"I… I think so," Emilia replied, unsure if she sounded convincing.
"You're learning quickly," he continued, moving closer. The tension in his posture was magnetic, undeniable. "But there's more than rules here. There are… expectations."
Emilia's pulse raced. "Expectations?"
He didn't answer immediately. He simply reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, a touch so light yet deliberate it made her skin prickle.
"Do not misunderstand this," he said quietly. "I protect. I control. But you are not mine to endanger yourself with recklessness. You understand?"
"Yes," she whispered, words barely audible.
"Good." His eyes locked on hers, stormy and unreadable. "Because danger is not always visible. And some threats… are closer than you realize."
A Minor Revelation
Later that evening, Sloane entered the room with a tablet, showing surveillance footage from the previous event.
"The man you saw," he said quietly, "is connected to an old vendetta against Ares. He's bold, resourceful, and has a personal interest in seeing anyone close to him hurt. Including you."
Emilia's stomach twisted. "Me?"
"Yes. He sees you as leverage."
Ares didn't comment. He simply stood beside her, silent, a wall of protection and power.
"You're learning the real stakes," Sloane added. "Rules aren't just instructions. They're survival."
Emilia nodded, the weight of the truth settling heavily.
Lydia Strikes
The next morning, Emilia received an unexpected message:
Rules are meaningless. You're weak. Step aside before it's too late. — L.H.
Her blood ran cold. Lydia had gone further than she had imagined.
Ares appeared instantly, the storm in his gaze undeniable. "You received a threat."
"Yes," Emilia whispered, trembling slightly.
He didn't speak immediately. His jaw tightened, fists clenching briefly before he regained his calm.
"Rule #1, Emilia. Do not hide anything. Show me the message."
She handed him the phone. His fingers brushed hers, deliberate, grounding, possessive.
"I will handle this," he said quietly, voice low, deadly. "No one threatens you. No one uses you. Understand?"
"Yes," she said firmly, swallowing hard. But her heart raced. She knew now: the rules weren't just guidelines—they were lifelines in a world full of enemies.
And Lydia… Lydia was only the beginning.