ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 68: The cold War
Demian did not reply.
He turned and left, leaving the room wrapped in suffocating quiet.
Valerie stood alone.
it wasn’t Ivanka who made her feel small, but the rules that forced her to exist without ever being allowed to speak.
Since that night, a true cold war settled between them.
There were no raised voices. No open arguments And that was precisely what made it sharper.
Demian still returned to the castle. Still dined in the same rooms. Still greeted Valerie with polite words too polite.
"Have you eaten?""Don’t forget to rest." 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚
The words were proper, but empty. There was no touch. No lingering gaze. No warmth slipping between their shared presence as there once had been.
Valerie replied only as much as necessary.
"I have.""Alright."
She did not ask where Demian went. Did not ask whom he met. Did not complain when he chose to sleep in his study or returned late at night.
Not because she didn’t care but because she knew nothing she said would change anything.
In front of the servants, they seemed perfectly fine. Perhaps too perfect.
But behind closed doors, the distance felt like a thick, invisible wall.
Demian noticed the change.
Valerie no longer waited for him. No longer left a lamp lit. No longer stepped closer when he entered a room.
She became calm. Obedient. And that disturbed Demian more than any anger ever could.
Because Valerie did not fight him. She withdrew.
One night, Demian stood at the doorway of Valerie’s chamber, watching her sit on the edge of the bed with a book in her hands, her hair loose, her expression peaceful.
"Are you angry with me?" Demian asked at last.
Valerie did not look up immediately.
"No," she answered honestly. "I’m just doing what you asked."
Demian frowned."That’s not the answer I’m looking for."
Valerie closed her book, then lifted her gaze.
"You asked me to stay silent. So I stayed silent."
"You asked me to keep my distance.So I did."
She gave a small, bitter smile.
"Isn’t that what you wanted?"
Demian fell silent.
"This cold war isn’t because I hate you," Valerie continued softly. "It’s because I’m learning... where my place is."
The words cut deeper than any shouted accusation.
Demian stepped into the room, then stopped.
"And where do you think that is?" he asked.
Valerie looked at him for a long moment, then shook her head.
"I don’t know yet." "And honestly... I’m not sure you want me to know."
Silence filled the room once more.
Demian stood there, realizing something far too late that in his fear of losing control, he had forgotten that distance can be the quietest form of loss.
And Valerie, in her silence, was drawing a line he could no longer cross at will.
Nothing changed on the surface.
Demian still slept in the same room as Valerie.Still pulled her into his arms when night fell.Still touched her in the same way familiar, confident, as if everything were still under his control.
And Valerie did not refuse.
She still returned his touch.Still lay beside him after it was over.Still rose in the morning and sat across from him at breakfast, lifting her teacup with the same graceful movements as before.
But Demian began to feel it.
Something was... missing.
Valerie no longer looked at him for too long.No longer leaned against his shoulder without realizing it.No longer spoke first when silence filled the room.
She was present yet it was as if she stood behind a thin, invisible wall.
Demian tried to dismiss the feeling.
He invited Valerie to linger longer over dinner.Asked her small things that used to make her smile.
"Is your tea too bitter?" "Would you like to go riding tomorrow?"
Valerie answered politely.
"No." "That would be fine."
The smile was there. But it no longer reached her eyes.
And that unsettled Demian.
One morning, he summoned Sean.
"Call in the best," he said curtly. "Dress designers. Jewelers. Shoemakers. Anything."
Sean hesitated for a moment."For Lady Valerie, Your Grace?"
"Yes."
That day, the castle filled with exquisite boxes. Costly fabrics. Glittering jewelry. Handcrafted shoes that even other nobles might never own.
Valerie stood in the middle of it all.
She smiled. She thanked him. She touched the necklace Demian gave her with the tips of her fingers.
"It’s beautiful," she said softly.
Demian watched her, waiting for something admiration. Delight. Or at least a warm light in her eyes.
But all he received was... courtesy.
"You don’t like it?" Demian asked at last.
Valerie turned to him, slightly surprised, then shook her head.
"I do like it," she replied. "Thank you for giving it to me."
Her tone was flawless.Her expression was not disrespectful.
But Demian knew— this was not the Valerie he remembered.
That night, they were together as usual.Demian drew Valerie into the bed, kissed her neck, felt her body respond as it always had.
But when it was over and they lay in silence, Valerie turned slightly, her back to him.
A small movement. Almost insignificant.
Yet enough to make Demian open his eyes.
"Valerie," he called softly.
"Yes?" Valerie answered without turning.
"Are you alright?"
There was a brief pause before she replied.
"I’m fine."
The answer sounded... perfect. Too perfect.
Demian frowned.
"You’re not angry?" he asked again.
Valerie smiled faintly in the darkness.
"I’m not angry," she said. "I just... understand."
Demian did not know why that word made his chest feel tight.
"Understand what?" he pressed.
Valerie did not answer immediately.
"Boundaries," she said at last. "The ones that should have existed from the beginning."
Demian fell silent.
He reached for Valerie, pulling her back into his arms.But her body did not stiffen did not resist it was simply still.
And for the first time, Demian realized something that made him restless, Valerie was not pulling away in anger.She was building a wall with acceptance.
A wall that could not be broken by gifts.That did not crumble under touch.And could not be breached by power.
She was still at his side.Still accepting everything he gave.
But Valerie’s heart... no longer stood in the same place.
