Chapter 5 INTO THE UNKNOWN

Alicia's POV

BLACKWOOD SOFTWARE

The Blackwood Software skyscraper loomed like a glass monolith, its top-floor office offering a dizzying view of Orlando's sprawling neon grid. I stood in the heart of Adrian Blackwood's world, clutching the marriage contract I'd signed yesterday, its ink a chain binding me to a man whose green eyes and cold commands haunted me. His words from our meeting "You're mine, Alicia, in ways I'll define" left me torn between relief and terror, a painter with no canvas, stepping into a life I didn't choose.

Carla, Adrian's executive assistant, led me down a pristine corridor, her middle-aged face softened by a kind smile that felt like a lifeline. "Mr. Blackwood asked me to handle your transition," she said, her voice warm yet efficient, guiding me into a sleek office with minimalist decor. The scent of fresh lilies and polished wood was a stark contrast to my mildew-soaked apartment, a reminder of how far I'd fallen from my dreams.

"This is your space," Carla said, handing me a clipboard with a neatly printed to-do list. "Your new apartment is arranged, fully furnished, down to the last detail. A wardrobe's been selected, and I'll ensure it fits perfectly. Mr. Blackwood wants you to look the part."

I glanced at the list, the words "personal assistant" bolded, my new role a tether to Adrian's world. "Your job's straightforward," Carla continued, her tone encouraging. "Manage Mr. Blackwood's schedule, organize his meetings, handle any tasks he assigns. I'll guide you through it, don't worry."

It was too much, new job, new home, new life all crashing over me like a tidal wave. My throat tightened, but I nodded, my lips pressed tight. I'd signed the contract, agreed to live in his penthouse, to be his wife on paper. Refusal wasn't an option, not with $2,500 in debts, an eviction notice, and Langley's threats choking my old life. But working so closely with Adrian, a man whose power and mystery unnerved me, made my stomach knot.

"Thank you," I managed, my voice low, forcing a small smile.

Carla's eyes softened. "You'll be fine, Alicia. Take it one step at a time."

I clung to her words, a flicker of hope in the storm, but as she left me to review the list, the weight of my choice pressed harder. I was orphaned at 11 by a car crash, raised by my grandfather until cancer took him three years ago at my 21, his medical bills part of the debt crushing me. This job, this contract, was my only path forward, but it felt like trading one cage for another, gilded but no less confining.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

LEAVING THE APARTMENT

Hours later, I stood in my Orlando apartment, the air heavy with the ghosts of my old life. My suitcase sat by the door, stuffed with clothes and a few keepsakes, Grandpa's old sketchbook, a photo of my parents, all that remained of me packed into three boxes. Exhaustion hit in waves, my head throbbing from the whirlwind of Blackwood Software's sterile luxury and Carla's endless instructions. I flicked off the lights, the dim bulb's final hum a goodbye to the cracked walls that had sheltered me.

As I dragged my suitcase into the hallway, Vincent Rossi leaned against the wall, his wiry frame and brown eyes cold, Adrian's driver and bodyguard a silent sentinel. "That's it?" he asked, his voice low, an eyebrow raised at my sparse belongings.

I shot him a tired glare, my dark curls falling into my face, my deep brown skin flushed with strain. "Yeah, that's all," I snapped, too drained for his judgment.

Vincent's gaze softened, a fleeting hint of understanding, but he said nothing, taking my suitcase with ease. The chilly night air hit as we descended the stairs, my worn coat pulled tight, my heart heavy with finality. I was leaving behind the only home I'd known since Grandpa's death, stepping into Adrian's world with nothing but his contract and my defiance.

Halfway down, Langley's voice slithered through the dark, his greasy figure blocking the entrance. "So, you got your boyfriend hauling your shit now?" he sneered, his eyes narrowing, reeking of cheap whiskey. "Think you can just walk out, leaving me high and dry?"

Disgust twisted my face, my hazel eyes locking onto his. "I'm gone," I said, my voice ice, stepping forward.

Langley's face contorted, his voice rising as he closed the gap, his breath foul. "This is my building, you ungrateful-"

Vincent moved like a shadow, his towering figure cutting between us, his voice a low growl. "Back off. You don't want trouble you can't handle."

My heart raced, the air crackling with tension. Langley glared, his fists clenching, but Vincent's unyielding stare broke him. Muttering curses, he retreated, spitting, "This ain't over, Alicia. You'll regret this."

I didn't flinch, my pulse pounding but my resolve firm. Without a word, I pushed past, Vincent at my side, his presence a shield I hadn't expected. We reached the Rolls-Royce, and he opened the backseat door, his face expressionless as I climbed in. The door slammed, sealing me in leather and silence, my eyes fixed on the fading apartment building as we pulled away.

I sank into the seat, a strange emptiness settling in. Vincent glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his voice softer than before. "You holding up?"

I sighed, staring out the window, Orlando's lights blurring. "Sorry you had to deal with that," I murmured, my voice barely audible. "I didn't want it to get... messy."

Vincent nodded, his focus returning to the road, the silence heavy but not unkind. I had no words for this, my life rewritten in a day, my future a blank canvas in a world I didn't understand.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE PENTHOUSE

The skyscraper housing Adrian's penthouse towered over the city, its glass facade a monument to the life I'd been thrust into. The private parking garage hummed with quiet wealth, and my nerves frayed as Vincent led me to the elevator, the polished interior reflecting my worn jeans and scuffed sneakers. The other passengers, sleek suits, sharp perfumes, cast curious glances, their whispers trailing me like shadows. I didn't belong here, a painter with nothing but a contract tying me to a man whose world dwarfed mine.

The elevator opened to the top floor, a private corridor with a single door. "Mr. Blackwood arranged a separate floor for you," Vincent said, his tone professional, unlocking the door. "It's your own space, but you're still part of his domain."

I stepped inside, my breath catching. The apartment was breathtaking, floor-to-ceiling windows framing Orlando's glittering skyline, cream leather furniture, marble counters, and art that screamed wealth. A vase of white orchids perfumed the air, the space pristine, luxurious, everything my old apartment wasn't. Yet, as I set my suitcase down, an emptiness gnawed at me. This wasn't home, it was a stage, a facade for the wife I'd agreed to play.

Vincent lingered by the door, his brown eyes scanning me. "You need anything, call Carla. She's got your back."

I nodded, my throat tight. "Thanks, Vincent."

He left, the door clicking shut, leaving me alone in the vast space. I walked to the window, the city sprawling below, a million lights mocking my isolation. I'd signed Adrian's contract, taken his job, moved into his penthouse, but what had I traded? My freedom? My soul? The marriage wasn't real, he'd said just on paper but his words, "You're mine," echoed, a promise or a threat I couldn't untangle.

I sank onto the plush sofa, my hands trembling, my hazel eyes reflecting in the glass. Tomorrow, I'd start as Adrian's assistant, living under his roof, playing his game. For the first time in years, I didn't know what came next, and that terrified me more than Langley's threats or the debts I'd left behind.