Soft rustle of fabric echoed in the large,dimly lit bedroom as Raphael stepped out of the steamy bathroom, water still dripping from his chiseled body. A white towel clung to his lips, low and defiant against the sharp lines of his torso. He grabbed another towel from the rack and began drying his thick, dark hair with a slow, casual ease. Each movement was unhurried, methodical.
He walked towards the grand closet. Without much thought, he selected a sleek black designer shirt and matching black slacks. The shirt molded perfectly to his lean, muscular frame as he buttoned it up slowly, the black fabric emphasising the intimidating elegance he carried with him so naturally.
Instead of grooming himself meticulously, Raphael simply ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it in a tousled, devil-may-care state. It suited him. It always had. The look of a man who didn't need to try to look, handsome and powerful—he simply was.
Descending the stairs with a calm, collected gait, he found the housekeeper tending to a vase of fresh lilies near the foyer.
"Good morning, sir," she greeted, bowing her head slightly.
"Morning," Raphael replied coolly. His black eyes scanned the space quickly before they narrowed. "Where did the lady go?"
The housekeeper hesitated only a fraction before answering, "she has stepped outside sir."
Without another word, Raphael turned on his heel and strode through the hallway toward the front entrance. The doors had already been opened. The cool morning breeze drifted in through the arched threshold, carrying with it the sharp, rising voice of a furious woman.
Outside, Halle stood at the massive wrought-iron gates, her chest heaving as she argued with the guards.
"I said, open the gates!" Her voice was loud, commanding, echoing off the stone walls of the estate. Her hair bounced with every gesture, her eyes blazing with frustration.
The guards, uncomfortable and hesitant, shifted their weight but didn't comply. Just as one of them opened his mouth to speak, the sharp sound of footsteps behind her made her pause.
She spun around, and her heart skipped when her gaze met the shadowed form of Raphael.
He didn't speak immediately, just watched her for a heartbeat. His eyes traveled over her expression, the anger, the defiance, the fire that sparked from her like an untamed flame. His jaw ticked once before he approached her.
"Tell your guards to open the gates!" she snapped. "I am not some prisoner here. I have people to see."
Instead of answering, Raphael reached forward and took her wrist in his firm but not hurtful grasp. Before she could protest, he turned and began walking back toward the house, pulling her along with him. His touch wasn't painful, but it was unyielding.
"Let go of me!" she demanded. "Raphael, I swear, this is insane—"
He ignored her until they were inside the house, the grand doors closing with a low, thunderous boom behind them. The housekeeper and other staff quickly diverted their eyes, scurrying out of sight. He pulled her through the hallway, past the grand staircase, and into a guest room on the ground floor. He opened the door and ushered her in before stepping inside and closing the door behind them.
Halle yanked her hand free, glaring at him with fury. "What the hell is wrong with you? I wanted to go see my friends. You don't own me!"
Raphael's expression didn't shift. His posture was calm, hands sliding into his trouser pockets as if they hadn't just stormed through the house. But his eyes—his eyes glinted with a simmering intensity that was hard to ignore.
"Technically, you do," he said coldly.
She took a step toward him. "No you don't. You can't just drag me around like I'm some object you bought off a shelf."
He arched an eyebrow, folding his arms slowly. "Can't I?" he asked, voice low and sharp. "Because, if I recall correctly, you did sign a contract, didn't you? You agreed to this marriage. You agreed to my terms."
"I did not agree to be your puppet!" she fired back. "You manipulated my greedy family into this while making sure that there was no way out for me!"
Raphael's jaw tightened, but he held her gaze. "You accepted the money. You wore the wedding dress. You stood beside me. Don't play the martyr now."
Halle stepped back, eyes glistening with a mixture of rage and helplessness. "You said not to expect anything from this marriage. Fine. Then don't expect anything from me either. I'm not going to play the obedient little wife."
A slow smile crept onto Raphael's lips, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You mistake obedience for respect, Halle. There's a difference. You want your freedom, your space—I can give you that. But you will follow my rules while you're under my roof. And rule one, you do not walk out of those gates without telling me."
"Why? So you can keep tabs on me? Control me?"
He took a step closer, voice now quieter but darker. "So I can keep you safe."
She blinked, surprised by the shift in his tone.
She didn't know half the enemies he had made. The moment she would walk out there without protection, she would become vulnerable. And he didnt leave what's mine his vulnerable.
The air between them turned electric, thick with tension neither of them fully understood. Halle's breath hitched, but she didn't move.
"I will be waiting for you in the car."
And with that, Raphael opened the door and stepped out, leaving Halle standing alone in the guest room, her chest rising and falling with emotion.
She hated him.
She stood in the guestroom for a moment, trying to steady her breathing. She didn't want to go with him, but staying behind felt like letting him win and with a frustrated sigh, she stepped out and made her way downstairs.
Outside, the car was waiting. Raphael was already behind the wheel. She moved toward the backseat, still upset, but before she could reach for the handle, he stepped out and opened the front passenger door.
"Get in," he said.
She hesitated, then rolled her eyes and got in, not wanting to argue anymore. He closed the door and got back into the driver's seat. The tension between them filled the silence.
"Seatbelt," he said after a moment.
She buckled it without looking at him.