Mira Avelin did not scream.
She inhaled sharply, froze, and stared at the ceiling as her brain tried—and failed—to explain why there was someone breathing next to her.
Slow. Even. Male.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket.
Don't panic, she told herself.
This is a military residence. Secure. Guarded. You're not dead.
Yet.
She turned her head.
And met the face of Kian Kael.
Up close.
Too close.
His hair was a mess, dark strands falling across his forehead like he'd lost a fight with sleep. One arm was thrown carelessly over the pillow, the other resting dangerously near her waist. His lashes were absurdly long for someone who ruined lives by smiling on camera.
The man half the world adored.
The man she had admired from a distance and hated in equal measure.
The man who was very much in her bed.
Mira's soul briefly left her body.
She bolted upright.
"What—WHAT—WHY ARE YOU—"
Her elbow slammed into his ribs.
Hard.
Kian woke up with a sharp grunt, eyes snapping open as he sucked in a breath. "What the hell—"
Mira scrambled backward, tangled in the sheets, clutching the blanket to her chest like armor. "YOU—YOU—THIS IS MY ROOM!"
Kian blinked once.
Twice.
Then he slowly propped himself up on one elbow, eyes roaming over her in a way that made heat crawl up her spine despite the panic.
"…You always attack men in their sleep," he asked lazily, "or am I special?"
She grabbed the pillow and threw it at his face.
He caught it.
Of course he did.
"Violent," he observed. "Unimpressive aim."
"GET OUT," she snapped. "RIGHT NOW."
He glanced around the room—her bag on the chair, her jacket slung over the desk, her books stacked neatly by the window.
Then he looked back at her.
"This," he said calmly, "is my assigned room."
Her eye twitched. "I've been here for two hours."
"And I've been here for six," he replied. "Which means either you broke into my room…"
His gaze dipped meaningfully to the bed.
"…or we're both victims of extremely bad planning."
Mira felt her face catch fire.
"This is a mistake," she said tightly. "I will report this."
"Please do," Kian said, settling back against the headboard with infuriating ease. "I love paperwork."
She grabbed her jacket and marched for the door.
—
The commander didn't even look surprised.
He leaned back in his chair, hands folded behind his head, studying her like she was a weather report.
"Why," Mira demanded, "is Kian Kael sleeping in my bed?"
"Sleeping?" the commander repeated thoughtfully.
She stared. "That's what you take from this?"
He smirked. "Did he snore?"
"That's not the point!"
He tapped a file on his desk. "Lieutenant Avelin, did you read the full agreement you signed?"
"Yes," she said. "Twice."
"And the nuptial clause?"
Her stomach dropped. "…The what clause?"
He sighed theatrically. "Joint quarters. Shared space. No visible separation. Standard for trust-building operations."
Her voice came out strangled. "That's a legal safeguard, not a sleep arrangement!"
"Appearances matter," he said lightly. "And relax. It's hidden. No media. No press. Just ink on paper."
She stared at him. "You married me to him."
"Legally," he corrected. "Temporarily."
Her hands curled into fists. "I didn't agree to—this."
"You agreed to the operation," he said calmly. "And you were chosen because you're invisible."
That stung.
"Unknown. Untraceable. No scandals. No fan base," he continued. "If something goes wrong, no one looks at you."
Her jaw tightened. "And him?"
The commander's smile faded slightly. "He's the shield."
Mira swallowed.
"I want separate rooms," she said.
He shook his head. "Denied."
"He hates me."
"He hates the contract," the commander replied. "You're just…convenient."
She turned away sharply. "You think this is funny."
"I think," he said gently, "you'll both survive it."
—
When Mira returned, the room was dark.
The lamp was off.
She hesitated at the doorway.
"Relax," Kian's voice floated from the shadows. "I didn't move."
She stepped inside stiffly. "I want boundaries."
"Good," he said. "So do I."
She didn't look at him as she climbed into the far edge of the bed, building a fortress of blankets between them.
Silence stretched.
Then—
"You know," Kian said lazily, "for someone who claims not to want this, you sure ran fast back."
Her teeth clenched. "I didn't choose you."
"No," he agreed. "You were chosen for me."
That made her turn.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He faced her now, eyes sharp in the dark. "You get anonymity. Protection. A clean exit after this ends."
His voice hardened.
"I get my assets tied to a stranger and my life signed away in clauses."
She faltered. "I didn't ask for that."
"No," he said quietly. "But you benefit from it."
That hurt.
"I'm risking my life," she shot back.
"So am I," he replied. "Difference is—if I die, you inherit everything."
The words landed heavy.
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Kian rolled onto his side, turning away. "Sleep, Lieutenant. We have a performance tomorrow."
The lights from the city flickered through the curtains.
Mira lay awake, heart racing.
And for the first time since signing the contract, she wondered—
Who was actually trapped here?