Luna's POV
The tension between Alexander and me lingered in the air like a storm cloud. After the argument yesterday, I avoided him, retreating to the safety of my room. But no matter how hard I tried to push it from my mind, his words haunted me.
Do you care about him? More than me?
Why had he asked that? Why did he care? I had signed up for an arrangement, not an emotional minefield. Yet, here I was, caught in the middle of a whirlwind I couldn't control.
By midday, I decided to venture out of my room. Helen had left a tray of lunch for me, but I barely touched it. I needed air, clarity—anything to escape the suffocating weight of the mansion.
Ignoring Alexander's previous warning about leaving the house without his permission, I slipped out into the garden. The cool breeze was a welcome relief, the scent of roses and freshly cut grass calming my nerves. I wandered aimlessly, letting the serenity of the space distract me.
But, of course, peace never lasted long in Alexander Cole's world.
I was standing by the fountain, lost in thought, when I heard the crunch of footsteps on the gravel behind me. I turned to see Alexander, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever.
"You didn't ask to come out here," he said, his tone clipped.
I sighed, crossing my arms. "Do I need your permission to breathe now too?"
His jaw tightened, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. "We had an agreement, Luna. My rules, my conditions."
"Your rules are suffocating," I shot back. "You expect me to stay cooped up in that house like some prisoner. I needed air, Alexander. That's not a crime."
"Not a crime," he repeated, his voice laced with mockery. "But a blatant disregard for what I told you."
I rolled my eyes, my frustration boiling over. "Do you even hear yourself? You act like I'm some possession you can control!"
At that, something shifted in his expression. His eyes darkened, and he took a step closer, his presence looming. "That's because you are mine, Luna," he said coldly, each word cutting like a blade.
I froze, his words hitting me like a slap. "Excuse me?"
"You're here because I allowed it," he continued, his voice icy and detached. "You agreed to this arrangement, knowing exactly what it meant. You're a part of my life for one reason and one reason only—to fulfill the terms we agreed upon. Nothing more."
His words stung more than I wanted to admit, but I refused to let him see how much they affected me. "So, that's all I am to you? A toy to be used and discarded when you're done?"
He didn't respond immediately, but his silence spoke volumes. His eyes were unreadable, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"Don't delude yourself, Luna," he said finally, his tone sharper than ever. "This isn't a fairytale. You're here because you made a choice, and now you have to live with it."
Anger flared in my chest, and I took a step closer, refusing to back down. "You think you're so untouchable, don't you? That your money and power make you invincible? But deep down, you're just a broken man hiding behind a wall of ice."
His jaw clenched, but he didn't deny it. Instead, he took another step forward, closing the space between us until I could feel the heat of his anger radiating off him.
"Careful, Luna," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "You don't want to test me."
I held my ground, refusing to let him intimidate me. "Maybe I do," I said boldly, my voice trembling only slightly.
For a moment, we stood there, locked in a battle of wills. His eyes bored into mine, filled with something I couldn't decipher—anger, frustration, and something deeper, something he wouldn't let himself show.
Finally, he exhaled sharply, stepping back. "You think you know me, but you don't," he said, his voice softer now but no less cold. "And you never will."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding in my chest.
I spent the rest of the day trying to make sense of what had happened. His words replayed in my mind on an endless loop. You're mine.
Was it possessiveness? Anger? Or something else entirely?
I wanted to hate him for the way he treated me, for the way he spoke to me like I was nothing. But beneath the cold facade, I could see the cracks. Alexander Cole was a man haunted by something—a past, a pain, or a fear he refused to share.
I wanted to break through that wall, to understand him. But every time I got close, he pushed me away, retreating into the safety of his icy exterior.
That night, as I lay in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about the look in his eyes—the anger, the vulnerability, and the frustration. Whatever this was between us, it was far more complicated than either of us had anticipated.
And I wasn't sure how much longer I could endure it.