Chapter 2: A House That Isn't a Home

The Volkov mansion didn't look lived in.

It looked owned.

Tall iron gates opened without a sound as the car rolled in. The driveway curved through perfectly trimmed hedges and silent fountains that sparkled under white lights. Everything was flawless. Controlled.

Just like him.

Ava stared out the window, her reflection pale against the glass. The wedding makeup was still on, but the shine in her eyes was gone. Replaced by something sharper. Guarded.

The car stopped at the entrance. Before she could reach for the door, it was opened for her.

Dimitri stepped out from the other side at the same time. No smile. No small talk. Just a calm glance to make sure she followed.

Like this was already routine.

Inside, the mansion was all marble floors, high ceilings, and soft golden lighting. It was beautiful in the way museums were beautiful.

Untouchable.

A woman in a black uniform approached. "Welcome home, Mrs. Volkov."

The words hit like a weight.

Home.

She didn't answer.

Dimitri noticed, of course. He noticed everything. But he said nothing as he removed his suit jacket and handed it to the staff.

"Your room is prepared," he said.

Your room.

Not ours.

Ava blinked. "We are not sharing?"

Dimitri's gaze flicked to her face, measuring. "Not unless you want to."

The answer surprised her enough that she didn't hide it.

"I don't."

"Good," he replied simply. "I have early meetings."

So calm. So unaffected. As if their marriage was just another contract clause.

A maid led Ava upstairs. The bedroom she was shown was bigger than her family's entire apartment. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city, lights stretching endless into the night. The bed was wide, dressed in white and silver.

On the dresser sat a velvet box.

Inside was a diamond necklace.

Ava shut it immediately.

"I didn't ask for this," she muttered.

A quiet knock came from the open doorway.

Dmitri.

He hadn't changed yet; his tie was still perfectly in place. His eyes swept the room, then landed on her.

"Anything acceptable?" he asked.

"Is this how you solve everything?" she shot back. "Money? Jewelry?"

His expression didn't harden _ but it cooled.

"It's how I provide."

"I am not a responsibility."

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

The word hung in the air again. Heavy. Complicated.

Ava crossed her arms. "This doesn't feel like a marriage."

Dimitri stepped into the room, slow, unhurried. The space seemed smaller with him in it.

"It's not," he agreed. "It's an arrangement. With exceptions."

Her chin lifted. "From me?"

"From both of us."

She searched his face for mockery. Found none.

"Publicly," he continued, "We appear united. No scandals. No scenes. No stories that can be used against you...or me."

"And privately?"

His eyes held hers. Steady. Intense.

"Privately, you have space. Freedom inside this walls. No one will force you into anything."

The words were controlled, but there was something firm beneath them. A line he wouldn't let anyone cross _ not even himself.

Ava hadn't expected that.

"Why?" she asked quietly.

For the first time, Dmitri hesitated.

Then, "Because I don't take what isn't willingly give."

Silence stretched between them.

The city lights flickered outside the window, distant and unreachable.

"This is still a cage," she said.

Dmitri didn't argue.

He only replied, voice low and certain _

"Yes. But no one inside it will hurt you."

And somehow...

That promise felt more dangerous than a threat.

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