Chapter 7: The Master of the House
By the time midnight rolled around, the storm outside had settled into a low, rhythmic drone of steady rain. Natalie hadn't been able to sleep. She had changed out of the heavy silk wedding gown and into a pair of simple, dark silk pajamas she found in her designated closet—one of the few items that didn't feel entirely suffocating.
She sat curled up on the massive window seat of the master suite, her knees pulled to her chest, watching the distant security lights cut through the darkness of the estate grounds. The room was illuminated only by the dying embers of the fireplace.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors clicked open.
Natalie didn't flinch, but her muscles tightened as a tall silhouette stepped into the room. Sebastian Vance. He looked exhausted, though his posture remained as rigid and commanding as ever. His tuxedo jacket was draped over one arm, his tie was completely undone, and the top two buttons of his white shirt were open. He stopped when he noticed her sitting by the window, his icy blue eyes catching the faint amber glow of the hearth.
"You're still awake," Sebastian said, his deep voice carrying a gravelly edge born of a long day of corporate warfare. He tossed his jacket onto a leather armchair and walked over to the wet bar in the corner, pouring himself a neat glass of scotch.
"It's hard to sleep in a prison, no matter how comfortable the bed is," Natalie replied smoothly, not breaking her gaze from him.
Sebastian took a slow sip, letting the amber liquid burn down his throat before looking back at her. "If this is a prison, Natalie, it's one your family built for you. I merely bought the deed."
He walked over, stopping a few feet from the window seat. Up close, the scent of rain, expensive whiskey, and his crisp cologne washed over her. Despite his fatigue, the sheer, magnetic power he radiated was overwhelming.
"I looked into your file further this afternoon," Sebastian continued, his voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet register. "It seems the Lopez family kept you well hidden. Adopted at age seven. Kept away from the family business, unlike Melanie. They used you as a shadow, a backup plan for when things went south. And yet, you stand here acting as if you hold all the cards."
Natalie stood up from the window seat, refusing to let him look down on her. Even barefoot, she held her chin high. "I don't hold any cards, Sebastian. But unlike my family, I'm not afraid of you. They think you're a monster because you have power. I think you're just a man who uses fear because he doesn't know how to use anything else."
A tense silence filled the space between them. Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening to the color of a stormy sea. He stepped closer, closing the distance until Natalie could feel the heat radiating from his chest. He reached out, his hand hovering near her face for a fraction of a second before his fingers wrapped firmly around the back of her neck, tilting her head back slightly. His grip wasn't painful, but it was unyielding.
"You have a very dangerous mouth, Natalie," he whispered, leaning down so his breath brushed against her lips. "In my world, people have been ruined for saying far less to me."
"Then ruin me," she challenged, her heart hammering against her ribs, though her voice remained steady as steel. "But you won't. Because a ruined wife is bad for your stock prices, isn't it? You need me to play the part."
Sebastian stared at her lips, then shifted his gaze back to her defiant eyes. For a moment, the clinical, robotic CEO vanished, replaced by something raw, fierce, and entirely predatory. He liked the fight in her. It was a refreshing change from the sycophants who populated his daily life.
Slowly, he released his grip on her neck, his thumb brushing lightly against her jawline before he drew his hand away completely.
"We have a charity gala tomorrow evening," Sebastian said, his tone instantly shifting back to its cold, business-like execution. "The elite of this city will be there. Your former family will be there. You will stand by my side, you will smile, and you will convince everyone that you are exactly where you want to be."
He turned his back to her, walking toward his side of the massive bed. "Take the left side of the bed. Don't cross the middle. I don't like my space invaded."
Natalie watched him as he lay down, completely ignoring her presence as if she were nothing more than a piece of furniture he had decided to tolerate. She walked over to her side, sliding beneath the cool charcoal sheets, keeping as far to the edge as possible.
As the silence of the room enveloped them, Natalie stared at the ceiling, acutely aware of the dangerous man lying just a few feet away. The game had officially begun, and tomorrow night, she was going to show her family—and her new husband—that she was no longer a pawn to be played.
