LUNETH

No one defied Drexon-not when he'd declared in that steel-edged voice that our wedding would proceed immediately in the same venue.

What about Kellan afterward? It was his own concern.

The wedding gown's lace scratched against my skin as I adjusted the ill-fitting bodice. What had possessed me to choose something so ornate? So bridal? The ivory satin suddenly felt like a costume for a role I'd never wanted to play.

We bypassed all tradition-no procession, no music, no trembling father giving away the bride. Just Drexon's large hand at the small of my back, steering us both down the aisle with the efficiency of a business merger.

The priest's nervous glance toward the Moreaux matriarch spoke volumes; he only began when she gave a barely perceptible nod.

"...to have and to hold from this day forward..."

My attention drifted during the vows. Drexon's profile was carved marble-not a single glance my way, not even when the priest stumbled over his words.

This wasn't how marriages were supposed to begin.

Then again, neither was finding your fiancé in bed with your stepsister.

"Do you take Drexon Moreaux to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

The question hit me like a physical blow. My pulse roared in my ears, drowning out the expectant silence.

If this had been Kellan standing beside me, he'd have broken these vows before the ink dried. But Drexon...

I risked a glance at him. That imposing frame radiated control, but the faint tightening around his eyes betrayed something deeper.

Fear? Doubt? Did he think I'd become a chain around his neck rather than an ally?

I won't drag you down, I wanted to say. I'll be the strength you never knew you needed.

The priest cleared his throat pointedly. Reality snapped back into focus.

"I do." The words left my lips steadier than I felt.

The priest turns to Drexon, repeating the same questions.

"I do." His voice was firm, like a robot void of any emotions.

When the priest produced the rings (where he'd gotten them so quickly, I couldn't fathom), I noted how the platinum band glinted under the chandeliers. Of course Drexon would insist on nothing less than perfection, even for this farce of a wedding.

The forced applause that followed our exchange of rings might as well have been crickets chirping for all I cared.

The deed was done. I was now Luneth Moreaux-a name that tasted like victory and vengeance on my tongue.

The Moreaux matriarch approached, her cane tapping against the marble.

"You've walked alone too long, my son," she told Drexon, her wrinkled hand patting his arm. "Perhaps this one will prove herself worthy." Her gaze flicked to me, dripping with condescension.

I barely suppressed an eye roll. Let the old bat think what she wanted-my new status was armor no one could pierce.

Movement caught my eye. Melissa and Kellan slinking toward the altar like jackals to carrion. I stepped into their path with the grace of a queen claiming her throne.

A nearly imperceptible nod from Drexon sent electricity down my spine. He's with me in this.

"Aren't you going to congratulate us, nephew?" I purred, savoring how Kellan's jaw clenched at the title.

The Moreaux family hierarchy was sacred, and I now sat comfortably above him. His nostrils flared, but he dipped his head like a chastened schoolboy.

"Congratulations... Aunt Luneth. Uncle Drexon." Each word seemed to choke him. The sweetness of that moment would linger on my tongue for years.

Melissa's turn came, her confidence crumbling like stale wedding cake. For a heartbeat, I almost pitied her-until I remembered the way she'd moaned Kellan's name this morning.

"C-Congratulations," she stammered, then added with poisonous sweetness, "May your marriage be... long-lasting."

A chill ran down my spine. In my past life, Drexon had died mysteriously within three years of this date.

Not this time, I vowed silently. I'll rewrite our fates.

The guests' whispers swirled around us-

"How gauche!"

"The sister became the aunt!"

"Must be so awkward?"

But I stood taller, my hand finding Drexon's arm.

"Thank you all for sharing this joyous occasion," I announced, voice dripping with honeyed malice. "Who knew happiness could come from such... unconventional beginnings?"

My gaze locked with Tema's, and oh, the murder in her eyes was exquisite.

"But as your new aunt, I insist you take your vows properly. Do not abstain from any further indiscretions that could bring disrepute upon this family.

As I stepped aside, I caught Drexon's expression-and nearly stumbled.

That faint curve of his lips wasn't just approval. It was the first spark of something dangerous. Something that made my breath catch.

DREXON

As I watched my new bride stride toward our suite-chin high, that ridiculous wedding dress trailing behind her-I caught myself admiring the way she owned every damn step.

Luneth wasn't just brave; she was a goddamn force of nature.

I'd shown up today out of familial obligation, expecting nothing more than an open bar and the satisfaction of watching my fool nephew tie himself to that social-climbing stepsister of hers.

Instead, I got a wife who looked at me like I was the answer to a question she hadn't even asked aloud.

The door to our suite stood ajar when I arrived. Melissa's shrill voice carried into the hallway, and my protective instincts flared-until I heard Luneth's response.

"Aunt Luneth," she corrected, her voice dripping with the kind of condescension that would make a nun reconsider her life choices.

A smirk tugged at my lips. Christ, she was magnificent.

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. The contrast between the rooms wasn't lost on me-while Kellan's suite looked like a fucking florist's wet dream, ours was. functional.

My jaw tightened. She deserved better than last-minute arrangements.

"You think you've won?" Melissa's whisper was all venom. "Kellan might not be the heir, but-"

"But nothing." The clink of crystal as Luneth set down her champagne flute. "While you're playing housemaid to Kellan's ego, I'll be running the empire. Tell me, sweetheart-who's really coming out ahead here?"

I should've intervened. But watching Luneth eviscerate her stepsister with nothing but words and a raised eyebrow? That was a privilege.

When Melissa finally slunk away, I stepped inside. Luneth stood at the window, the city lights painting her in gold and shadow. She didn't turn, but her reflection showed me that smirk-the one that made my blood run hot.

"Enjoying the show, husband?" The way she rolled that last word around her tongue should've been illegal.

I closed the distance between us in three strides.

"You're terrifying," I murmured, catching a strand of her hair between my fingers. "I like it."

She turned then, her back against the glass, and met my gaze without flinching.

"Good. Because I don't do meek."

"Neither do I." I braced a hand beside her head. "And I do keep my promises. I hope you do too."

She arched a brow, then stretched like a cat, deliberately slow, before scooting back on the sofa. "By all means."

I took the armchair across from her, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume-something floral with an edge, like roses dipped in whiskey.

"You know I'm a public figure," I began, watching her closely. "This marriage will be scrutinized. I'll file the paperwork tomorrow, but if you want out-"

"I don't." The words were flat, final. No hesitation. Just that steel in her voice again, the same one she'd used when she pointed at me in front of everyone and declared, "Him."

A smirk threatened, and I fought it down-but not fast enough. Her lips twitched. Caught me.

"Well," she said, rising in a rustle of satin, "since we're stuck with each other, do you mind if I steal a shower before the interrogation continues?"

She gestured to her dress, the fabric wrinkled from the day's chaos. "Unless you'd like to help me out of this first."

A challenge. A tease.

I leaned back in the chair, fingers steepled.

"By all means," I said, echoing her earlier words. "But don't take too long. We've got terms to negotiate."

Her laugh trailed behind her as she disappeared into the bathroom. "Promises, promises."

DREXON.

The Laurent Hotel was one of my properties-every detail from the Egyptian cotton sheets to the heated marble floors had been selected to meet my exacting standards. Yet as Luneth disappeared into the bathroom, I found myself second-guessing whether the jasmine-scented bath oils I'd mandated would be to her taste.

A ridiculous thought. Since when did I care about a woman's preference?

The water shut off abruptly. "Drexon?" Her voice carried an edge-not frustration, but something far more intriguing: flustered pride.

I was at the door in two strides. "Problem?"

"This damn dress." A huff. "The laces won't- I can't reach-" She exhaled sharply. "Could you call a maid to help?"

A slow smirk curved my lips. "You have a husband right here, sweetheart." The endearment slipped out before I could stop it.

Her sharp inhale when I stepped closer was more satisfying than any corporate takeover. My fingers brushed against the delicate skin of her back as I worked the intricate laces, feeling her shiver beneath my touch.

I should have stopped there. But the way her breath hitched when my knuckles grazed her spine sent heat pooling low in my gut.

"Are you helping or torturing me?" she snapped, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

"Impatient little thing, aren't you?" I teased, deliberately slowing my movements.

The more I fumbled with the stubborn ties, the more her flush deepened. I enjoyed it, but I didn't expect it to take so long. I could negotiate billion-dollar deals with steady hands, but these damn laces were defeating me.

"Are you even capable of this?" Her barb hit its mark.

My grip tightened involuntarily, and the delicate fabric tore with a soft rip, exposing the smooth expanse of her back.

"Was this your plan all along?" she demanded, twisting to glare at me over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed crimson.

In one fluid motion, I pinned her wrists against the wall, my body pressing hers into the marble. The torn dress gaped open further than intended, revealing more skin than either of us had planned. My breathing grew ragged as I watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

Christ. I'd had women before - beautiful, sophisticated women - but this wildcat somehow ignited me like no one else.

"Enjoying the view?" Her sharp tone snapped me from my thoughts.

"We are married," I murmured against her ear, feeling her pulse hammer beneath my fingertips. "Unless you're having second thoughts?"

Her eyes flashed with defiance. "Is this some kind of test?" That stubborn chin lifted. "I told you I'm not some spoiled child playing house."

When she swallowed hard, that delicate throat working, something primal stirred in me. Then she rose on her toes -

The shrill ring of my phone shattered the moment.

I nearly growled in frustration. Only Marcus would dare call now. Only a true emergency would make him call at this hour.

"My apologies," I said stiffly, watching her flush deepen as the spell broke.

Wrapping a towel around her shoulders, I made sure the fabric covered every inch before stepping back.

"Don't worry about the dress." My voice came out rougher than I intended. "I'll have a new one delivered by morning."

The cold night air slapped my face as I walked to the terrace, Marcus's call flashing on my screen. I stabbed the answer button harder than necessary.

"Congratulations, you bastard!" Marcus's booming voice could probably be heard across the city. "I leave for one business trip, and you go get married? To the woman who was supposed to marry your nephew?"

My grip tightened on the phone. "Watch your tone when speaking about my wife." The possessive word tasted strange but right on my tongue.

Marcus laughed, unfazed. "Damn, you've got it bad already. When do I get to meet the legendary woman who-"

"There are more pressing matters," I cut in, irritation flaring at his interest. "The Singapore deal?"

"Right, right." I could practically hear him rolling his eyes. "But first-your idiot nephew just tanked the Brisbane acquisition. Wanna guess how much he lost?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Let him fail. Moreaux men build their own empires." A thought struck me. "Besides, my wife would skin me alive if I bailed him out after today."

Marcus's knowing chuckle grated on my nerves. "Speaking of your fiery bride, when are you bringing her to-"

"Not now," I snapped. "She's... adjusting."

"Uh huh." The bastard had the audacity to sound amused. "Well, don't take too long. The boys are placing bets on how soon you'll-"

I ended the call before he could finish that sentence.

The suite was dark when I returned, save for the moonlight painting silver streaks across the bed. Luneth lay curled on her side, one hand tucked beneath her cheek like a child's. The tightness in my chest eased... followed by an unwelcome pang of disappointment.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I wasn't some hormone-driven boy who'd take advantage of a marriage of convenience. Not until we were both certain this was what we wanted. But as I watched the steady rise and fall of her breathing, I couldn't deny the truth:

I wanted her to wake up. Wanted those sharp eyes challenging me again. Wanted another round of that intoxicating back-and-forth that made me feel more alive than any business deal ever had.

Running a hand through my hair, I turned toward the couch. This would be a long damn night.