CHAPTER SEVEN — A ROOM MADE OF SECRETS
The hallway felt endless.
Adrian led Naomi past towering glass panels, dim lights, and soft marble floors that reflected their silhouettes. Every part of the penthouse whispered wealth—cold, immaculate, and intimidating. Naomi felt like she was walking deeper into a world she wasn't built for, a world with rules she didn't yet understand.
Adrian didn't speak, but he didn't rush her. His hand was warm around hers, steady, controlled. Only when they reached a wide double door at the end of the corridor did he finally stop.
"This will be your room," he said.
Her heart thudded. He pushed the door open, and Naomi stepped inside slowly, breath catching in her throat.
The room was… breathtaking.
Soft cream walls, gold accents, a window that framed the city skyline like a painting. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, gentle and elegant. There was a plush bed, too beautiful to sleep on, and a private bathroom larger than her entire old apartment.
Naomi turned slowly. "This is… too much."
"No," Adrian said behind her. "It's not enough."
She looked up at him, puzzled.
"A wife of the Cross family deserves better." His tone was simple, matter-of-fact. "I won't have you living in fear or discomfort."
Naomi hugged her arms around herself. "You don't have to spoil me."
"It's not spoiling," he corrected. "It's responsibility."
She didn't know why that word made her chest tighten.
"Do you want to rest?" he asked quietly.
Naomi shook her head. Too many thoughts buzzed through her mind to rest.
He stepped inside the room and closed the door halfway, giving them privacy.
"What's troubling you?" he asked.
She let out a shaky breath. "Everything. My signature is on that contract. I don't even know what happens next. What will your family think? What will the media say? What if—"
Adrian held up a hand gently. "Slow down."
She did, inhaling deeply.
"You're thinking too many steps ahead," he said. "For tonight, focus only on this: you're safe."
She didn't know whether to believe him. Safety felt like a dream she had chased for years. But standing here… it felt close. Tangible.
She sat on the edge of the bed. "Your family… they don't know you're marrying me, do they?"
He remained silent long enough for her to realize the answer was complicated.
"My grandfather would approve," he finally said. "The others will accept it because they have no choice."
"And the board?"
"They will grumble," he said with a faint smirk. "But they can't challenge a legal marriage."
Naomi blinked. "You sound like you're going to war."
"I always am," he answered quietly.
The honesty in his tone stole her breath.
He sat beside her—not too close, but enough that she could smell the clean, subtle scent of cedar and something darker beneath it.
"You're afraid of being rejected by my world," he said. "But rejection only matters if you depend on someone. You won't depend on anyone but me."
The words shouldn't have comforted her.
But they did.
Naomi hugged her knees, staring at the chandelier lights reflected in the glossy floor. "This doesn't feel real."
"It is," Adrian said. "More real than anything either of us expected."
She looked at him again, studying the man who somehow felt like both a promise and a warning.
"Adrian," she whispered, "are you sure this won't ruin your life?"
His jaw tightened, a shadow crossing his expression. "My life was ruined a long time ago. This marriage isn't a burden—it's an advantage."
His voice changed—calmer, heavier.
"My father destroyed everything he touched," he said. "My mother, our company, our family name. I've been fixing his mess ever since."
Naomi had never heard him speak so openly. It felt intimate. Dangerous.
"And now," he continued, turning toward her, "I need stability. Someone who won't betray me. Someone who won't use me."
Her throat tightened. "You think I'm that person?"
"I know you are."
Silence stretched between them, warm and tense.
Naomi lowered her gaze. "I'm not perfect, Adrian."
"Neither am I."
She almost laughed, though nothing about this moment felt funny. "You're a billionaire CEO. Everything about you looks perfect."
He leaned back on his hands. "My life is polished. I am not."
Her stomach fluttered unexpectedly.
Adrian's gaze traced her face slowly. "You're tired. You should sleep."
"I can't," Naomi murmured.
"Why not?"
"Because my life just changed completely." She shook her head. "I don't know who to trust."
Adrian's expression softened. He stood up, walked to the door, and paused.
Then he did something she didn't expect.
He returned, took off his watch, set it aside, and sat in the chair near her bed—not leaving, but not intruding either.
"I'll sit here until you fall asleep," he said simply.
Her eyes widened. "Why?"
"Because you look terrified," he answered without hesitation. "And because if this marriage is going to work, you need to know I keep my promises."
Naomi stared at him, stunned. "You don't have to—"
"I do," he said firmly. "You're under my protection. That begins now."
The tone of his voice left no room for argument.
She lay down slowly, still watching him. Adrian sat with one leg crossed, elbows relaxed, eyes alert. He didn't look bored or impatient. He looked… present. Steady. Like a guard posted at her door.
"Adrian?"
"Yes."
"Are you doing this because you feel obligated?"
"No," he said. "I'm doing this because you're mine."
Her heart stumbled.
Possessive. Dangerous. But for the first time in years, she wasn't afraid of being near someone.
Naomi closed her eyes. Sleep didn't come quickly, but the longer she listened to the quiet sound of his breathing, the safer she felt.
Minutes stretched.
Then—
"Adrian?" she whispered again, voice soft.
"Yes."
"Thank you."
She meant it.
He didn't answer, but she heard the faint, almost imperceptible release of breath—like her gratitude touched something he didn't know how to handle.
Eventually, her body relaxed. Her breaths grew deep. Her face softened.
Only when he was sure she was asleep did Adrian stand quietly, pull the blanket up to her shoulders, and turn off the lights.
He lingered at the doorway, watching her with an expression no one else had ever seen on him—calm, protectiveness, and something deeper… unwelcome but unavoidable.
Adrian closed the door gently.
In the darkness of the hall, he whispered to himself:
"One year, Naomi Barrett. And during that year… no one will lay a finger on you."
He didn't add the last part aloud:
And no one will take you from me.
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END OF CHAPTER SEVEN