Page 23 of The Billionaire’s Contract Bride

“How remarkably generous.”

“There are fifty-eight other floors you cannot access.”

“Why?”

“Because you have no reason to be on them.”

The elevator doors opened into Blackthorne House before she could respond.

It wasn’t an apartment—it was a fortress built above the clouds.

Floor-to-ceiling glass wrapped around a sprawling, multi-level living space, exposing Manhattan in every direction. Polished black marble floors mirrored the city grid below. A architectural work of genius staircase made of dark wood and steel curved toward an upper gallery, and museum-grade artwork hung under focused spotlights.

Yet nothing looked lived-in. There were no scattered books, no discarded coats, no personal photographs. The space was so immaculate it seemed even dust particles required clearance to land.

“This feels like a hotel,” Aria said, stepping out onto the cold marble.

“It isn’t.”

“Hotels are warmer.” She agreed.

Damien slipped off his overcoat and handed it to a woman who seemed to step seamlessly out of the shadow of the foyer. She was in her sixties, impeccably dressed in a slate-gray dress, her silver hair styled in a tight bun.

“Ms. Vale,” she said, offering a small, polite nod. “I am Helena Ward, the household director.”

“Aria, please.”

“Aria.” Helena’s expression softened slightly. “May I have the kitchen prepare a light meal for you?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“She hasn’t eaten since yesterday morning,” Damien interjected.

Aria turned on him. “How would you know that?”

Damien paused, the briefest hesitation in his smooth composure. “You came directly from work to your apartment and then arrived at the hospital.”

“That doesn’t prove I didn’t eat.”

“Did you?”

Her silence was confession enough.

“Soup and toasted bread,” Damien instructed Helena. “Nothing rich.”

Aria bristled. “I can order my own food.”

“Then order it. Helena will bring the soup while you decide.” He turned down a dark corridor.

“Where are you going?” She demanded to know, a little annoyed and a little worried to be left without him, although she would never admit it.

Damien glanced over his shoulder. “You object when I stay near you, yet you question me when I leave. Pick a grievance, Aria.”

“You know where I am at all times. I want the same courtesy.”

“I am going to my office.”

“Am I allowed inside?”