Chapter 3 The Boundaries of Curiosity

From Henry's POV

I'm used to control, to everyone around me bending to my will without a word. So, watching Angele explore the penthouse with that wide-eyed curiosity of hers, it's... entertaining, even if I don't fully understand why. She's far from the type who'd fit into this world, yet she has something different-a quiet defiance that stirs something I thought I'd locked away years ago. But that spark could be dangerous.

Today, I decided to push her boundaries.

"Angele," I call out, my voice echoing through the polished marble and glass hallways. She appears from the library, a touch of apprehension in her eyes but her chin held high. That small show of resistance sparks something darkly satisfying in me. She's already guessing this isn't going to be a casual chat.

I motion toward the basement door, the one door she knows is off-limits. "Follow me."

We descended the staircase, each step down thick with tension. The silence between us is nearly palpable. I can tell she's dying to ask a hundred questions, but she bites her tongue, which is probably wise. A gentle tremor in her hand gives her away; she's nervous. But she follows, cautious yet curious. Brave, I'll give her that.

At the bottom, I open the heavy door to my private study. The room is dimly lit, walls lined with dark mahogany shelves holding everything from rare books to artifacts that each carry a story no one but me would understand. And in the corner-the one forbidden drawer she won't touch if she knows what's good for her.

"Angele," I start, walking over to a sleek cabinet by my desk. "You'll be spending time here. I expect absolute respect for my boundaries." I give her a pointed look, letting her know how serious I am. "Especially when it comes to that drawer."

Her gaze flicks over to it, a flash of curiosity betraying her. But she nods, clearly forcing herself to look away.

Angele shifts on her feet, clearly tense, her eyes avoiding mine. But I catch her glancing at me, just a quick flicker of those wide brown eyes that are far too expressive. It's enough to know she's intrigued, maybe even attracted despite her caution.

"Tell me something, Angele," I say, leaning against the desk, a smirk playing at the edge of my lips. "Did you think this contract would come with boundaries that don't push you?"

She hesitates, her brows furrowing. "No... but I didn't expect you'd make it feel like a cage either."

A cage. I step closer, enjoying how her breath hitches, the slightest flush rising to her cheeks. "Think of it less like a cage," I murmur, "and more as... protection."

She scoffs, breaking her gaze from mine, looking anywhere else. "Protection? From what?"

"From yourself." I tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. "Curiosity's a dangerous thing, Angele. Especially when it comes to things you won't understand."

She bites her lip, a flicker of defiance igniting in her eyes. "Maybe you should trust me more. Or do you think I'm just some naive girl?"

I chuckled, amused by her boldness. "Oh, you're far from naive," I say, letting my voice drop just enough to unnerve her. "But that doesn't mean you're ready for everything in this world."

She steps back, folding her arms, trying to shield herself from the weight of my gaze. "Then why did you bring me here? You can't expect me to follow all your rules blindly forever, Henry."

My name on her lips feels... foreign. I close the space between us, hovering close enough to feel the warmth of her skin. "Maybe that's exactly what I expect."

Angele's eyes widen, but she holds my stare, her jaw set in determination. She's close to breaking, yet there's that spark, that damn fire in her that makes her more compelling-and more dangerous.

"Angele," I say softly, but my tone holds an edge, a warning, "some doors are meant to stay locked. Don't let your curiosity end up being your downfall."

She nods, barely, but I can tell she's rattled. It's a start.

As I walk her back upstairs, I make sure to keep my tone cold, distant keeping her just far enough to feel safe, yet close enough to feel the heat. But before she leaves the room, I murmur, "Remember, Angele... not every secret is meant for prying eyes."

Just as I'm about to turn away, she surprises me. "Then maybe you shouldn't have made it so tempting, Henry."

Her words linger as she slips away, leaving me in the dim light, a smirk on my face. She's already drawn into the game-she just doesn't know the rules yet.

Angele's POV

As the smooth lift slid open to the highest level, Angele took a full breath, steadying herself. Henry's penthouse resembled a completely different - every last bit of marble, glass, and muffled steel felt like an expansion of him: cool, controlled, scaring. Furthermore, presently, it was hers, in some measure for a brief time, to wander... inside limits.

She was unable to prevent her eyes from wandering toward the foyer prompting his review. The taboo entryway. It seemed like it called to her, provoking her to check whether she had the nerve to find what lay past. In any case, his admonition replayed to her, sharp and clear, similar to his look when he'd gave it: "That entryway stays locked. No exemptions, Angele."

In any case, the interest tingled at her.

Lost in her viewpoints, she almost missed the steward, James, moving with his typical calm effectiveness, conveying a silver plate stacked with immaculate cloth napkins. He looked at her with a knowing grin, one temple raised as though to say, excessively near the edge, right?

She attempted to dismiss it, yet the inquiry got out before she could stop herself. "James... what precisely is it that Blue - Mr. Thistle keeps concealed back there?"

He didn't overlook anything, the well mannered cover set up as he put down the plate and changed his gloves. "Miss Angele, interest is something fine, yet it has its cutoff points, wouldn't you concur?" His tone was delicate, however there was a propensity - something that felt like an admonition enveloped by silk.

"Is it hazardous?" she squeezed, her voice a murmur now.

James offered a weak grin, his eyes indiscernible. "You should ask Mr. Thorn yourself..."

Angele dismissed, disappointed. Each individual in this house appeared to watch Henry's mysteries, come hell or high water. In any case, the more they kept, the more she ached for replies. Maybe she'd been dropped into a fantasy turned out badly, where the ruler was dim and cryptic, his palace occupied with locked rooms and shadows.

As she turned around to her room, her fingers brushed over the key he'd given her to each and every piece of the penthouse. She stopped, feeling the cool metal against her palm, its weight far heavier than it ought to be. Perhaps only a tad look wouldn't do any harm...

However, something halted her. The heaviness of his look from prior, the implicit commitment that he'd be aware assuming she disrupted his guideline.

That night, as she arranged for bed, a delicate thump sounded on her entryway. She opened it to find Henry remaining there, his look cool and incomprehensible.

"Angele," he said, his voice a low thunder, "I figured you could go along with me for a nightcap."

Shocked yet incapable to oppose the draw of his extreme look, she gestured, following him to the living room where a fire snapped delicately. He poured her a beverage, watching her intently as she took it, her fingers brushing his scarcely.

She could feel the heaviness of his gaze on her, weighty and loaded up with something she was unable to name. "For what reason did you wed me, Mr. Thistle?" she asked delicately, her voice bolder than she felt.

Briefly, he didn't reply, his eyes fixed on the glinting blazes. "You interest me, Angele," he mumbled at last, his voice like velvet over steel. "Be that as it may, at times... curious can be something dangerous."

His words lingered palpably, the snapping fire creating long shaded areas that moved across his face. She shuddered, feeling the heaviness of his advance notice settle like a stone in her chest. Yet, her interest just erupted more grounded, similar to a moth attracted to the fire, even as she experienced its intensity singing excessively close.

"So... what happens when curiosity wins?" she murmured, practically trying him.

He inclined in, his lips simply creeps from hers, his eyes dull and perilous. "Then it's a round of endurance, sweetheart," he mumbled, his voice delicate however accused of something basic. "Is it safe to say that you are ready for the stakes?"

The inquiry waited in the air, unanswered, as he pulled away, leaving her with the agitating inclination that the genuine game had just barely started.