Chapter Five: Where We Stand

CALISTA

The drive to the Dario mansion was suffocating, not because of Martin’s silent company, but because of the weight of the choice I had made. My palms rested on my lap, trembling slightly. In my mind, Aaron’s bright smile and cheerful voice reminded me why I was doing this.

The car pulled through towering iron gates and up a winding driveway. When the mansion came into view, my breath caught. It wasn’t just large—it was a palace. The sprawling estate boasted manicured gardens, a fountain large enough to rival a city park, and stone architecture straight out of a fairy tale.

"Imposing, isn’t it?" Martin glanced at me briefly through the rearview mirror.

"That’s one way to put it," I murmured, trying to keep the awe from my voice.

Martin stopped the car at the entrance, where a butler opened the door before I could unbuckle my seatbelt. I stepped out and smoothed my dress, trying to appear composed.

"Mrs. Dario, welcome," the butler greeted me with a polite nod, and the title struck me like a slap. Mrs. Dario. That was me now, at least on paper.

Martin guided me through the grand halls of the Dario mansion, his voice calm and professional as he explained each area. The sheer size of the estate made me feel insignificant, like an intruder in a world I didn’t belong to.

“This is the east wing,” Martin said, gesturing down a corridor lined with ornate doors. “Your room is the third door on the left. It’s been prepared for your stay.”

I nodded mutely, barely able to process the sheer luxury surrounding me. Everything from the marble floors to the crystal chandeliers screamed wealth, but the house felt cold, devoid of warmth or life.

“And the west wing?” I asked, trying to mask my curiosity.

“That’s Mr. Dario’s private quarters,” Martin replied without missing a beat. “You won’t need to concern yourself with that area.”

The dismissal in his tone made it clear the west wing was off-limits.

“Understood,” I muttered, following him down the hall.

He stopped in front of my door and pushed it open. The room was breathtaking—a perfect blend of modern design and classic elegance. A plush king-sized bed sat in the center, flanked by nightstands with sleek lamps. The far wall was dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a stunning view of the gardens below.

“The staff will be at your service if you need anything,” Martin said, stepping aside to let me enter. “Dinner is served at seven, though Mr. Dario isn’t expected back until later tonight.”

My chest tightened at the mention of Cassius. I wasn’t sure if his absence was a relief or a delay in the inevitable tension.

“Thank you, Martin,” I said softly, stepping into the room.

He inclined his head and left, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hall.

I spent the next few hours exploring the mansion cautiously. It felt strange to roam the halls of a house that wasn’t mine, but I wanted to familiarize myself with my new surroundings.

Dinner came and went without incident, though the empty dining room only emphasized how out of place I felt here. By the time night fell, I was back in my room, sitting by the window and staring out at the darkened gardens.

A car engine rumbled in the distance, drawing my attention. I watched as a sleek black vehicle pulled up to the mansion’s entrance. A moment later, I saw him.

Cassius Dario.

Even in the dim light, his presence was commanding. He maneuvered his wheelchair out of the car with practiced ease, his movements smooth and unbothered. Martin stepped out of the driver’s seat, walking around to exchange a few words with him.

I couldn’t hear their conversation, but Cassius’s expression was unreadable, his sharp features cast in shadows. As they disappeared through the front doors, my heart began to race.

He was here.

I waited in the sitting room, perched nervously on the edge of a leather armchair. The silence of the mansion felt oppressive now, each tick of the ornate clock on the wall amplifying my anxiety.

When the sound of wheels against the marble floor reached my ears, I stiffened. A moment later, Cassius rolled into view, his presence filling the room despite his silence.

He stopped a few feet away from me, his hazel eyes sharp and assessing. In the low light, I noticed something familiar about them—something I couldn’t quite place.

“Mrs. Dario,” he said, his voice smooth but distant. “You waited up for me?”

“I thought we should talk,” I replied, standing to face him.

His gaze swept over me, not in a way that felt intrusive but as though he were cataloging every detail. “About?”

“This arrangement,” I said, folding my arms. “I need to know where we stand.”

He tilted his head slightly, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Where we stand? Interesting choice of words.”

Heat crept into my cheeks at the unintended implication, but I held my ground. “I think we both know this is far from a traditional marriage. But if we’re going to share a house, there need to be boundaries.”

His expression didn’t change, but his gaze flicked briefly to the window before returning to me. “You’ll have your space, and I’ll have mine. As long as you don’t interfere with my life, I won’t interfere with yours.”

“Fine,” I said, though his dismissive tone grated on me. “But I have conditions too.”

His eyebrow arched, and for a moment, I thought he might laugh. “Conditions? This should be good. Let’s hear them.”

“I need privacy,” I said firmly. “My personal life is off-limits. And if we’re going to put on this charade in public, we at least need to act like we tolerate each other.”

He leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Anything else?”

“That’s all… for now.”

His smirk returned, faint but unmistakable. “Noted.”

For a moment, we simply stared at each other, the tension in the room thick enough to suffocate. His scent, a subtle mix of cedar and something else I couldn’t quite identify, felt oddly familiar, tugging at the edges of my memory.

“Is that all, Mrs. Dario?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” I said quietly, stepping back.

“Good. Then get some rest. Tomorrow, the real work begins.”

Hours later, after tossing and turning in bed, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I grabbed it quickly, my heart skipping a beat when I saw Lila’s name.

“Lila,” I answered, my voice low. “How’s Aaron?”

“He’s fine,” she said, but there was a note of hesitation in her voice. “But he’s been asking for you all day, Calista. He misses you. He said he wants to see you.”

My chest tightened, a pang of guilt and longing washing over me. “I’ll find a way to visit him soon,” I promised.

“Are you sure?” Lila asked. “With everything going on—”

“I’ll make it work,” I interrupted. “Aaron is my priority.”

As I hung up, I stared at the dark ceiling, the weight of my choices pressing down on me. Somewhere in this cold, unfamiliar mansion, my new husband was likely as restless as I was or maybe I thought.

But tomorrow, I would have to find a way to see my son—no matter the cost.