Lena Whitmore did not sleep.
Not after signing the contract.
Not after becoming Mrs. Adrian Blackwood.
The ink had barely dried, yet the weight of her new last name pressed against her chest like a silent accusation.
Blackwood.
It sounded powerful. Untouchable.
And completely not hers.
If she closed her eyes, she could still see the polished mahogany table from yesterday, the lawyer’s steady gaze, and Adrian’s unreadable expression as she signed away her freedom.
A single signature.
That was all it took.
If you missed how everything began, you can read the moment that changed her life in Chapter 1: The Contract Marriage.
Today was different.
Today she had to move into his world.
The Blackwood Estate
The gates alone were taller than her childhood home.
As the car rolled through the long private driveway, Lena felt her stomach tighten. The estate rose ahead like something carved from power itself—white stone, towering windows, and silence that felt intentional.
Adrian had not spoken during the entire ride.
He sat beside her, immaculate in a charcoal suit, eyes fixed ahead. The kind of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to command a room.
Or a life.
“We’ll maintain appearances,” he said finally, voice calm, controlled. “Publicly, we are a devoted couple.”
“And privately?” Lena asked before she could stop herself.
His gaze shifted to her.
Cold. Assessing.
“Privately, we honor the contract.”
Her fingers tightened in her lap.
Clause 7 echoed in her mind.
No emotional entanglements.
No interference in personal affairs.
A marriage of convenience only.
And yet, sitting inches from him, she was painfully aware of his presence. The faint scent of cedar and expensive cologne. The steady rise and fall of his chest.
She hated that her body reacted before her pride did.
A Room That Wasn’t Hers
Her bedroom was larger than her entire apartment.
Silk sheets. A private balcony. A walk-in closet already filled with designer dresses she never asked for.
“You’ll attend the Whitmore Foundation gala with me on Saturday,” Adrian said from the doorway.
“That’s in three days.”
“Yes.”
He stepped closer, stopping just within reach.
“You will wear what I choose.”
Something flickered in her chest. Anger. Defiance.
“I’m not one of your acquisitions, Mr. Blackwood.”
A faint smirk touched his lips.
“You signed the contract, Mrs. Blackwood.”
Her breath caught at the title.
Mrs.
It sounded intimate.
Dangerously intimate.
He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her shoulder. The touch was light.
But deliberate.
Her pulse betrayed her instantly.
“Relax,” he murmured. “I don’t intend to claim what the contract forbids.”
Then he stepped back.
Distance restored.
Control regained.
And Lena was left standing there, furious that she wanted him to break the rules.
Dinner for Two
That evening, they dined alone in a room meant for twenty.
Crystal glasses. Soft candlelight. Staff disappearing like ghosts.
“You’ll need to learn quickly,” Adrian said as he cut into his steak. “My world doesn’t tolerate weakness.”
“And what do you consider weakness?” she asked.
“Attachment.”
The word landed heavy between them.
“Then why marry at all?” she challenged.
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“Because appearances matter. Investors trust stability.”
“So I’m branding.”
He didn’t deny it.
But something in his eyes shifted.
For the first time since the contract was signed, she saw something beneath the ice.
Not warmth.
Not yet.
But something guarded.
“You needed money,” he said quietly. “I needed a wife. We both benefit.”
Benefit.
As if this were a business merger.
Lena swallowed hard.
“My father’s debts will be cleared?”
“Already handled.”
Relief crashed through her so suddenly she almost forgot to breathe.
He noticed.
“I keep my promises.”
Their eyes locked.
And the air changed.
The Line Between Pretend and Real
Later that night, Lena stepped onto the balcony outside her room, desperate for air.
She hadn’t expected this.
The tension.
The way her body reacted every time he came close.
The way his gaze lingered just a second too long.
This was supposed to be simple.
A transaction.
But transactions didn’t leave you breathless.
A door opened behind her.
She didn’t need to turn to know it was him.
“You’re thinking too loudly,” Adrian said.
She faced him this time.
“And you’re too controlled.”
He stepped closer.
Close enough that the city lights framed him in silver shadows.
“Control is necessary.”
“For what?”
“For men like me.”
His hand lifted again—this time not to brush her hair away.
This time, his fingers tilted her chin upward.
Her heart slammed.
“You’re trembling,” he observed.
“I’m cold.”
“You’re lying.”
His thumb brushed lightly across her lower lip.
Electric.
Every rule in the contract screamed at her to step back.
She didn’t.
“Careful,” she whispered.
He leaned in.
Close enough that his breath warmed her skin.
“The contract says nothing about temptation,” he murmured.
Her pulse spiked.
“And if temptation becomes attachment?”
His jaw tightened.
“It won’t.”
But he didn’t move away.
And neither did she.
Interrupted
A phone rang inside.
The spell shattered.
Adrian stepped back instantly, mask sliding back into place.
He answered the call without looking at her.
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then something in his expression hardened.
“I’ll handle it.”
He ended the call and turned toward the door.
“What happened?” she asked.
“A problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
He looked at her differently now.
Like she was no longer just a contractual obligation.
“Someone is questioning the marriage.”
Her stomach dropped.
The marriage wasn’t even a week old.
And already, the cracks were showing.
He walked toward her again, slower this time.
“From this moment on,” he said quietly, “we don’t just pretend in public.”
Her breath caught.
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” he said, voice lowering, “we make it believable.”
And suddenly, the line between contract and something far more dangerous began to blur.
To Be Continued…
Will Lena survive the world of power, secrets, and desire that comes with being Mrs. Blackwood?
Continue the story in Chapter 3…