Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
Lunessa lay frozen beneath him, every muscle locked tight. His weight wasn't fully on her, yet it was impossible to ignore. His breath brushed her ear, warm but somehow controlled.
Unlike her heart. It hammered so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
"So tell me," he said quietly, his lips close to her ear, "what would make you do it willingly?"
Lunessa stared at the space beside his shoulder, forcing herself not to turn her head. She could feel his presence too clearly to pretend otherwise. From this close, even his breathing sounded calm, nothing like what she would expect from someone acting this way behind closed doors.
"Can you move first?" she said softly. "You're kind of heavy…"
He paused.
Just for a second but it was enough for her to feel it.
The weight shifted slightly, pressure easing as his knee slid back a fraction… adjusted. As if he were reminding her that even this small mercy was a choice.
"Better?" Julian asked.
Lunessa nodded faintly, still not daring to turn her head.
He didn't move away from her ear. If anything, his voice lowered.
"Answer the question," he said. Not impatient. Expectant. "What would make it willing?"
Her fingers tightened in the sheets. The fabric bunched beneath her grip.
"I don't know," she whispered. "I've never… thought about it like that."
"That's obvious," he replied calmly. "So think now."
The room felt too quiet. So even the sound of her nervous breath sounded too loud.
"If you threaten me," she said after a moment, "that's not willingness. That's fear."
"Correct."
"And if you buy me," she continued, her voice unsteady, "then I'm just selling myself."
Julian hummed softly. "So asking me for a house isn't selling yourself?" he asked calmly. "What's the difference?"
"I—" She pressed her lips into a thin line, unable to find the right words. "I… I apologize again. I guess I crossed the line. I shouldn't have asked you for a house just because I have nowhere to go…"
He shook his head. "No. I'm fine with that." His tone remained even. "If you asked for something bigger, I'd still be willing to give it… as long as you're willing to be my woman."
Once again, the words 'my woman' tightened her chest.
It sounded like he was asking her to be his lover.
But it wasn't that.
It felt heavier. Like ownership dressed up as an offer.
"Honestly, there's nothing for you to lose," he said. "I'll give you a place to live. Money to spend. I'll even help your sister with her medical needs. What's wrong with that?"
His words sounded justified.
But how could she sell herself for the sake of comfort?
She stared blankly at the luxurious ceiling. "So…" Her voice wavered. "If I give you my everything, can I ask you to marry me?"
The question stiffened Julian.
He pulled away and stared at her face. "Did you just ask me to marry you?"
Julian's expression hardened instantly.
The brief pause vanished, replaced by something sharp and unmistakable.
"No," he said flatly.
He straightened completely, stepping back from the bed as if the question itself had crossed a line. His gaze dropped to her, no warmth left in it now.
"This," he continued, voice calm but edged with disdain, "is exactly why I hate women like you."
Lunessa's chest constricted.
"You take a transaction and dress it up as permanence," he said. "You hear the benefits and immediately reach for a title. A ring. A guarantee that chains someone down."
"That's not—" she started.
"I don't do marriage," he cut in. "Especially not with someone who comes for the money."
He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. "Ah—damn. You just killed the mood."
Then he turned and walked straight toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Lunessa jerked upright at once, still trying to process what had just happened.
Julian didn't slow.
"And just so we're clear," he added without turning back, "don't embarrass yourself by thinking you're wife material."
The words landed heavily, sharp and humiliating, leaving her chest tight and her throat burning.
"Then…" Her voice faltered, but she forced the words out anyway. "Can I stay here tonight?"
Even as she asked, she knew it might humiliate her even more.
He stopped at the door.
For a moment, Lunessa thought he would refuse. Thought he would tell her to leave and let the humiliation finish its job.
Then Julian spoke, his voice flat, stripped of anything unnecessary.
"You can stay."
Her breath hitched.
"But don't misunderstand why," he continued coldly. "This isn't kindness. And it's definitely not because I feel sorry for you."
He finally glanced back, his gaze sharp and impersonal, like she was a variable he had already accounted for.
"It's late. You're in no condition to wander the city," he said. "That's all."
Her fingers clenched. "Mm… thanks, Mr—"
She didn't get to finish. The door slammed shut.
The sound made her flinch, then freeze, her words swallowed by the sudden, brutal silence.
She pressed a hand to her chest.
"Why does it hurt…?" she whispered, the question sounding stupid even to herself.
She had known this would happen. From the moment she agreed to the system. From the moment she lied and said she was his girlfriend.
So why did it still feel like she'd been slapped?
"I chose this," she murmured. "I walked in. I asked for things I couldn't afford to want."
Her fingers curled slowly, nails digging into her palm.
She told herself it was fine. That pride didn't pay hospital bills. That dignity wouldn't keep Laura alive.
But when he said wife material, her throat tightened.
It wasn't rejection that hurt.
It was how easily he decided what she was worth.
Tears blurred her vision as she stared at her hands, the same hands that were supposed to save her sister.
"I thought I could be strong," she whispered. "I thought I could do this." Her shoulders trembled. "But I didn't know it would hurt like this."