I blinked, pulling back just enough to look up at him.
“Photoshoot?
Why?”
“You were upset that we didn’t have any wedding photos in the house,” he replied smoothly, his dark eyes holding mine.
“So, I decided we should retake them.”
I stared at him.
He was lying straight to my face.
We both knew there were no original photos to replace because we had never been married.
But watching him commit so deeply to this charade, watching him go out of his way to fulfill a complaint I had only made to test him, left me completely speechless.
My heart did a traitorous little flip.
I felt a sudden, undeniable surge of affection for him.
He was making me feel cherished.
Loved.
But as quickly as the warmth bloomed, reality poured ice water over it.
What am I doing?
I thought, panic flaring in my chest.
He is my enemy.
I just found the acquisition papers on his desk this morning.
He wants to devour my company.
I should despise him.
I should be plotting his downfall.
But right here, wrapped in his arms, smelling his cologne, all I felt was dangerously comfortable.
Before I could untangle my chaotic thoughts, Wilder suddenly bent down and swept me off my feet.
“Ah!” I gasped, instinctively wrapping both arms tightly around his neck, my feet suddenly dangling off the floor as he lifted my entire body up against his frame.
“Wilder, put me down!”
“You’re tired,” he declared, a wicked, teasing glint in his eyes.
He adjusted his hold, supporting my weight effortlessly as he started walking toward the stairs.
“A good husband carries his wife to bed.”
“I can walk!
Put me down, you’re embarrassing me!” I hissed, my face burning as a few of the household staff quickly averted their eyes.
Wilder only laughed, a rich, joyous sound that echoed in the grand hallway.
He carried me all the way up the stairs, whispering scandalous, teasing promises against my ear that made my face turn the color of a ripe tomato.
✼ •• ┈┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯⋅๑┈┈┈┈ •• ✼
Nyxia sat on the edge of the large bed, happily eating her cheesecake, her cheeks still flushed from the trip upstairs.
Wilder watched her for a moment, a faint smile on his lips, before stepping out of the bedroom.
“I’ll get you some coffee,” he told her.
He walked down the stairs and headed toward the kitchen.
The playful, indulgent warmth that had softened his features just moments ago vanished the second he was out of Nyxia’s sight.
As he reached the marble counter, the maid who had been on duty all morning approached him.
She bowed her head respectfully, glancing around to ensure they were alone.
“Sir,” she said in a hushed tone.
“This morning, Madam was in your study.”
Wilder stopped.
“Go on.”
“She was crying on the floor.
She said the memories were giving her a panic attack,” the maid explained nervously.
“But…
when I walked in, your drawers were open.
The documents on your desk had been moved.”
Wilder slowly turned to face her.
His expression was completely unreadable.
His dark eyes, usually so expressive when looking at Nyxia, turned as cold and sharp as cracked ice.
“I see,” he said softly.
The calmness in his voice was terrifying.
“Did she read the black folder?”
“I am not sure, Sir.
She was holding some photographs when I entered.”
Wilder let out a slow, measured breath.
The pieces were clicking into place.
Her sudden questions, her targeted provocations, the call with Magnus.
“Keep watching her.
If she goes near my study again, tell me immediately.
And if she asks about anything related to her past, I want to know.”
“Yes, Sir,” the maid bowed quickly and hurried out of the kitchen.
Wilder stood alone in the quiet room.
He reached for two ceramic mugs and began preparing the coffee.
His face remained perfectly calm, but his mind was running through a thousand calculations.
She had seen the papers.
She had seen the photos.
And yet, she had smiled at him, accepted his flowers, and let him carry her upstairs without a single word of accusation.
A dark, possessive smirk slowly curled the corner of his mouth.
He picked up the two cups of coffee and walked back toward the stairs.
✼ •• ┈┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯⋅๑┈┈┈┈ •• ✼
I sat against the headboard with the empty cheesecake box resting beside me, but the sweetness that had made me smile earlier was doing little to distract me now.
My mind kept circling back to everything I had discovered in Wilder’s study the acquisition proposal, the photographs of Magnus and Nova, and the unsettling discovery that my bank accounts had been frozen under his authority.
I still couldn’t understand how he had managed to gain control over my finances without my permission, and the more I thought about it, the more certain I became that there was a part of my own life Wilder knew that I didn’t.
The bedroom door opened after three quiet knocks.
Wilder stepped inside carrying two cups of coffee.
He looked completely at ease, as though his afternoon had been perfectly ordinary.
There was no anger in his expression, no sign that he had received an alarming report from one of the staff.
He simply crossed the room and held one of the cups out to me.
“I thought you might want this.”
I accepted it with a small nod.
“Thank you.”
Wilder sat beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touched.
He took a sip of his coffee while I watched him over the rim of my cup.
Now that he was sitting beside me, I found myself searching his face for any trace of suspicion.
There was nothing.
That worried me more than anger would have.
After a moment, Wilder leaned back against the headboard and looked toward the bedroom windows.
“This house must feel rather quiet to you.”
I lowered my cup.
“It does.”
“You’ve been here for several days now.
Did you have a chance to walk around while I was gone?”
My fingers tightened slightly around the cup.
The question sounded casual, almost conversational, but I knew better than to underestimate him.
He hadn’t asked whether I had entered his study.
He hadn’t mentioned the maid.
He hadn’t even hinted that anything unusual had happened during his absence.
Instead, he had given me an innocent question and left me to decide how much I wanted to reveal.
“I looked around a little,” I answered.
“Did you find anything interesting?”
I held his gaze.
My heartbeat had quickened, but I refused to let it show.
If Wilder truly knew what I had done, then panicking now would only confirm his suspicions.
I gave him a tired smile and let my shoulders sink against the headboard.
“Mostly rooms I don’t remember.
It’s difficult to find anything interesting when every hallway reminds me that I don’t know my own house anymore.”
Wilder studied me for several seconds.
I kept my expression relaxed even though I could almost feel the question hanging between us.
I had no idea what the maid had told him or how much he had already pieced together from the documents I had touched.
All I could do was maintain the same fragile confusion I had shown everyone since waking up in the hospital.
Eventually, Wilder’s mouth curved into a faint smile.
“I suppose you’ll have plenty of time to become familiar with it again.”
He reached toward me before I could respond and gently brushed a tiny crumb from the corner of my mouth.
The gesture was so natural that I almost forgot what we had been discussing.
Almost.
His thumb lingered for a moment before he lowered his hand.
“Still,” he murmured, “be careful which doors you open in this house, beloved.
I wouldn’t want you to discover something that might upset you.”
The warmth in his voice did nothing to hide the warning underneath.
I stared at him for a moment before returning his smile.
“Then perhaps you should make certain the interesting rooms are locked.”
His eyes darkened with amusement.
“Perhaps I should.”
Neither of us said anything more.
Yet I understood exactly what had happened.
Wilder wasn’t asking what I had found.
He was letting me know that he knew I had been looking.
And, for reasons I couldn’t understand, he had chosen not to expose me.