Chapter 9 Rules Not To Obey

Ciara's POV

"You're insane," I said the moment I stepped into his office, slamming the door behind me for dramatic effect.

Lysander didn't even look up from his desk. He was reclined in that monstrous leather chair, sleeves rolled up, shirt slightly unbuttoned, and glasses perched on his nose like he was trying to make sin look academic. The worst part? It was working.

He tapped lazily at his keyboard. "Good morning to you, too, wife."

"Don't," I hissed, marching straight to the edge of his desk. "Don't start with that. We need to talk. Rules. Boundaries. A full damn constitution."

His blue eyes flicked up, amused. "What are we, twelve?"

"No. But I'm not going to wake up tomorrow and find you shirtless in my bed just because we signed a prenup and agreed to play pretend."

He smirked. "So you have imagined me shirtless in your bed?"

"I-What? No!"

"Liar."

The truth is, yes. I dreamt of him last night and in that very same dream, I woke up next to him. Oh God, that divine look... I don't want to wake up everyday next to him.

I am scared that my heart won't be able to take it and I will end up dying from the tension. And the fact that he will be my husband, I'll have to sleep next to him and wake up next to him? That is heaven and hell together!

I threw the folder I'd brought on his desk with unnecessary aggression. "I wrote down the terms. You can review them. Sign or don't. I'm still not sharing my hairbrush."

Lysander leisurely took the folder and flipped it open. "Rule one: no sex. Rule two: no flirting. Rule three: no kissing. Rule four... personal boundaries must be respected at all times?" He raised an eyebrow. "You really think you're gonna survive living under the same roof as me with this list?"

"It's survival 101," I muttered. "I do not want to be intimate with a man I just married on paper. You see, Mr. Eryx, I want peace while I try to work on my papers for the U.S. Government. Trust me, you wouldn't want to be in a mess with me."

"You do realize," he said, standing slowly-deliberately-"that you're marrying a man who's been declared 'most eligible bachelor' by Forbes and 'CEO most likely to ruin your life' by BuzzFeed, right?"

He rounded the desk, and I stepped back instinctively until my back hit the edge of the cabinet.

Lysander stopped right in front of me, so close I could see the little specks of green flickering in his irises under the sunlight. He smelled like cedarwood, dark espresso, and danger.

"You made this list," he said softly, "because you think you can control this."

I lifted my chin. "I will control it."

He chuckled, low and sinful. "That's cute."

"I'm not cute," I snapped.

"God, you are," he whispered, voice like velvet over flame. "Especially when you're trying so hard to act unaffected."

I glared at him, but he didn't budge. His hand brushed the hair off my shoulder, a featherlight touch that sent my brain short-circuiting.

"You keep writing these rules," he murmured, "but you forget one thing."

"What?" I asked, barely a breath.

"I already know how to break them."

My heart was going to combust. I could feel it thudding in my ribs, rattling against my chest like it was trying to escape the pressure.

I shoved him back-or tried to. He didn't even flinch.

"You're infuriating."

"I get that a lot."

"I'm serious, Lysander," I said, more breathless than I wanted to be. "We need rules or I swear this is going to spiral."

His gaze dipped to my lips, then back to my eyes. "Maybe I want it to spiral."

And there it was.

The honesty. The threat. The seduction.

He is more unpredictable than I have ever thought. When I first came here, I thought he was not someone to play with things. But looking at this now, I am getting fearful each minute.

"I'm not your toy," I said, voice tight.

"No," he said softly. "You're my wife."

Fake wife.

Pretend.

A lie-but the heat between us? That was very real.

I pushed past him, heart racing, and went straight to the window to cool my face with the breeze seeping through the glass.

Behind me, Lysander's voice was playful but laced with something darker. "Alright, Mrs. Rulebook. I'll sign your little contract. But only if you add one more clause."

I turned slowly, arms crossed. "What clause?"

His grin was wicked. "You can't fall in love with me."

My mouth parted. "I would never-"

"Careful," he warned, stepping forward again with that lazy, dangerous stride. "You said that like a challenge."

My throat dried. He was impossible. And terrifyingly tempting.

"Fine," I snapped. "Rule number five: no falling in love."

He extended his hand like a businessman sealing a billion-dollar deal.

I slapped mine into his before I could think twice.

Big mistake.

His thumb brushed my wrist just once, and I felt it everywhere. Heat. Static. Chaos.

Why am I feeling this way? I felt like a fucking whore who is trying her best to conceal every single emotions I could feel.

And the very fact that I can actually develop some memory problems due to me suppressing my emotions is scaring me further.

I am utterly confused. But maybe this is only because I am under the same roof as this handsome man. I cannot believe I am getting this kind of emotion all in once! They are breaking me apart.

When he let go of my hands, he winked. That sent another volt of electricity down my nerves. There were so many butterflies in my stomach that I felt like I had to vomit.

"You're going to break every single rule, mon petit renard," he said, voice husky with prophecy.

I left the office in a storm of frustration, confusion, and something I refused to name.

But deep down?

I already knew.

He was right.

And what happened to his own rule? What happened to no physical communication or whatever shit that was? He was starting it first!

Lysander is eating up all the shits he wrote in that contract.

He is driving me crazy!