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.

I was in a hurry to leave the hotel for wherever Drexon called home, but the Moreaux family had more plans for us than I could imagine. Things had not been like this in the past when I had married Kellan. After the wedding, we were sent home under the watchful eyes of Tema, who nagged me about everything.

"Mom said you and that girl should come down for breakfast." I pretended to lie asleep on the bed with my back to the door as I listened to the conversation between Tema and Drexon. "Your wife", she corrected herself, and even though I can't see Drexon's face, I wonder what kind of look he could have given her to have her change her words so easily. When I chose to be his wife, I knew that there would be persecution from Tema and her sister-in-laws, and to be honest, I was ready for that, but I did not want to forge my way into battle so early in the relationship.

"Why do we need to have breakfast?" Drexon's voice was smooth and commanded more authority than Tema's whiny voice.

"I do not know why; maybe you and your wife can come down and ask her yourself," Tema replied. It was obvious she was having a hard time addressing me as his wife. She must hate it, and it must make her blood boil, but then she had to get used to it.

"We will be going home directly," Drexon said, and Tema sighed.

"Do you also think everyone else at that table wants you there? We do not want you there either, but your mom keeps insisting, and even when I tell her that I am sure you would not agree to come, she asks me to make sure I do not attend breakfast unless I bring you both down," Tema added.

It was obvious that Tema did not hold as much power as she had portrayed in my previous life; she was as powerless as I was. I need to make things different this time; I need something bold and powerful to make sure that I do not get to sit at the edge of the table or wait tables during family gatherings again. I have had enough of it, and I have no desire to go down that path again.

Drexon inhaled sharply. "We will be there."

"Okay, good, I might be forced to come back up to you if you are not down in a few more minutes," Tema said, and then I heard the door shut. I felt my body stiffen. I had been sure that I was going to escape this with the aloofness of Drexon, but he did not manage to be able to slip out of it as I would have wanted.

I hear him move to the bathroom, and I only sit up when the sound of the shower goes on. I wonder how I would escape this; he knows very well that his family does not want me down there and that this would end in a horrible disaster. I think of ways to escape this; should I play the sick and tired card to make him go down alone, and then afterwards we can retire to his house? I stay pondering for a long time; the only thing that snaps me back to my senses is the sound of the shower going off and then the door clicking open.

I drop back to the bed quickly, as I do not want to see him naked; the image of what happened last night is still so fresh in my memory. I did not expect us to live lovey-dovey as a couple, and I think even if we were to have sex, it was too early for him to see me naked, and I was not willing to return the favour just yet. My mind began on the topic of intimacy; we had yet to discuss the topic, and I do not know him well enough to conclude on that. I force myself to push the thoughts out of my mind as I fall back to bed.

"You can drop the act; my family is waiting." His question hovered around the room, and instead of sitting up and admitting that he had caught me, I tightened my shut eyes and kept my body still. "You heard Tema; we have to go down for breakfast." I pretended to stir as if I were just getting up, and I sat in bed rubbing my eyes gently.

"What?" I pretend to yawn, and surprisingly, it turns into a real one.

"Get up and get ready."

"But I have nothing to wear," I lied, hoping that would be the way I escaped the breakfast or maybe bought myself a little more time.

"I will go over and get your suitcase," he replied. I knew about the suitcase next door, but I wanted to let go of it. It was my past, and I did not need to be associated with it. "Just fish something out of it and wear it for now; we can get you new clothes later," he added as if reading my mind.

I throw off the blanket and walk to the bathroom, knowing there is no escape for me regarding this. I stood in the bathroom and washed until I felt better; at least this morning, we did not need to call multiple times for hot water to come up. I stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped firmly around my waist, and I saw that he had picked out a yellow sundress that went down to my knees. I look at it and wonder how he knew how much I liked the dress. I quickly slip it on and join him in the room.

He was dressed in grey pants and a white button-up shirt; he had the sleeves rolled up and the first two buttons left undone. I tried not to stare, but the way he wore that shirt - casual yet commanding - made my breath catch. "Shall we?"

"Yes, but before we go, I have a favour to ask," I say, making sure it was not as if I was begging.

"A favour?" His eyebrow goes up in a questioning manner at me, and I struggle to stand still. I wanted to be at the head of the table, and I had thought long about it; I just needed his yes to get the ball rolling. "What is it?" he gave in and asked.

I cleared my throat and closed the gap. "Promise me you will do it."

"I don't make empty promises, so I have to hear it first."

"I want to sit at the head of the table."