Chapter 3 Moving In （continued）
“You understand what you signed, Layla?” he murmured.
She looked up, holding his gaze even though her heart was racing. “I’m not stupid.”
“You’re living under my roof. Wearing my name soon. Carrying my child eventually. There are no half-measures here. So, no question or anything. ”
“I didn’t come here for half-measures,” she replied, sharper than she intended. “I came here to save my sister.”
A flicker of something passed in his eyes. Pity? Respect? He blinked it away.
“You’ll need to get used to this life quickly.”
“You mean pretending to be something I’m not?”
“I mean becoming something stronger than what you were before.”
---
Over the next few days, she tried.
She followed the rules. Woke up at 6 a.m. sharp. Attended silent breakfasts with Jasper. Met with his private doctor for check-ups. Signed more documents than she could count. Accepted designer clothes she didn’t choose. Ate dinner alone most nights.
Jasper barely spoke to her unless necessary.
And yet, his presence haunted every room.
His scent lingered in the halls.
His voice echoed in her mind, low and smooth like silk wrapped around a dagger.
She hated how aware she was of him.
---
One evening, she was sitting by the fireplace in the main lounge, reading, wrapped in a cashmere throw. The house was too quiet. She almost forgot anyone else lived here.
Until he walked in.
Shirt sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, hair slightly tousled. Jasper Tate, the billionaire everyone feared in boardrooms, looked... tired.
“You’re still awake?” he asked.
She raised a brow. “I could ask you the same.”
He poured himself a drink and leaned against the bar. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“You? Insomnia doesn’t seem like your style.”
He gave a dry chuckle. “Neither does forced marriage.”
She closed the book. “We could try not hating each other. For the baby’s sake, eventually.”
He looked at her for a long beat.
Then: “I don’t hate you.”
“You have a weird way of showing it.”
“I’m protecting something,” he said slowly. “You just don’t know what yet.”
She frowned. “Is that your way of saying I should trust you?”
“No. It’s my way of saying don’t cross me.”
---
The next morning, she received a note.
Doctor’s appointment. 10:00 sharp. No excuses.
She stared at it, heart thudding.
It was starting to feel real.
The mansion. The rules. The future child. The billion dollars promise. The stranger she was bound to for life.
And even if her heart whispered that maybe, just maybe, there was more to Jasper Tate than the cold shell he wore—
She wasn’t ready to believe it.
Not yet.
---