Tristan stepped into the penthouse just after 3 PM, loosening his tie with one hand while carrying his suit jacket in the other.
The meeting with the board had dragged on longer than expected, but he had cut it short.
For the first time in years, work felt secondary.
All he could think about was her.
He missed Ophelia and the moment he entered the living area, his eyes landed on the dining table.
The breakfast he had carefully prepared for her that morning scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, avocado toast, and warm coffee sat completely untouched.
The coffee had gone cold, the toast looked dry, and a sigh escaped him.
He ran a hand through his dark hair, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the slight disappointment.
Only our second time together and she’s already this exhausted.
The thought sent a dark, possessive thrill through him.
If she only knew the long list of things he wanted to do to her… the different positions, the ways he wanted to make her scream his name, the slow, torturous nights he had been planning for months.
Seven years of waiting had built up a hunger that no single night could satisfy.
He walked quietly toward the bedroom, pushing the door open gently.
The sight that greeted him made something soft and warm bloom in his chest.
Ophelia was curled up in the middle of his large bed, wearing nothing but one of his white dress shirts.
The hem had ridden up, exposing the smooth skin of her thighs.
Her dark hair was spread across the pillow like silk, a few strands falling over her peaceful face.
She looked so beautiful, so vulnerable, so his.
Tristan stood there for a long moment, just watching her sleep.
Then he approached the bed slowly, sitting on the edge.
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, then another to her cheek, and finally one on her slightly parted lips.
“Wake up, my love,” he whispered against her mouth, his voice low and tender.
Ophelia stirred, a soft hum escaping her.
Tristan kissed her again, deeper this time, his hand gently cupping her face.
When her eyes fluttered open, he smiled a rare, genuine smile that reached his grey eyes.
“Good afternoon, beautiful,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across her lower lip.
“You missed breakfast.”
Ophelia blinked sleepily, still half in a dream.
“Tristan… what time is it?”
“It’s 3pm already… I made breakfast,” he whispered, brushing hair from her face.
“But you slept through it. Come on.”
Before she could protest, Tristan slid his arms under her and lifted her effortlessly from the bed, carrying her bridal-style toward the living room.
Ophelia gasped, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck.
She was still naked, but he had thrown one of his large shirts over her shoulders.
“You are sore,” he replied simply, kissing her temple again.
“Let me take care of you.”
He set her gently on the couch, as he went to warm the food.
A few minutes later he brought over the tray, and she just sat there with closed eyes.
The aroma made her stomach rumble loudly.
Ophelia’s cheeks flushed.
“I… I am not hungry.”
Tristan sat beside her and pulled her close so her head rested against his chest.
“Eat,” he said softly, picking up a fork and feeding her a bite of the eggs.
She opened her mouth obediently, too tired and hungry to argue.
As she chewed, Tristan continued feeding her patiently, one hand gently stroking her hair.
His heartbeat was steady under her ear, reassuring.
For the first time in days, Ophelia felt strangely safe.
Tristan in his heart was quietly happy.
Seeing her like this soft, vulnerable, trusting him enough to let him feed her filled a void he had carried for seven long years.
Finally, he thought.
She’s here.
She’s mine.
She finished most of the plate, still leaning heavily against him.
“I am still sleepy…” she murmured, nuzzling closer to his chest.
Tristan kissed the top of her head.
“I am sorry I wore you out so much last night. But this is just the beginning, Ophelia. But I promise I will be gentler… sometimes.”
She hummed against his shirt, too content to argue.
“Come,” he said, lifting her again.
“Let’s watch something. I have a home cinema.”
He carried her to the private theater room, settling her on the large, plush sectional sofa before dimming the lights.
A soothing movie began playing a gentle romance with beautiful scenery.
Ophelia’s eyes grew heavy again, but she fought to stay awake.
Tristan disappeared for a minute and returned with a big bowl of popcorn.
He sat down and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her.
“Tristan…” she whispered, popping a few kernels into her mouth.
“This feels… too nice.” He smiled faintly.
“You deserve nice things.”
“Hmmm.” she only murmured.
Then Tristan spoke again, his voice casual but serious.
“Do you like this penthouse… or would you prefer my villa?” Ophelia turned to look at him, confused.
“Why are you asking?”
“Because this is where you live from now on.”
She blinked, stunned at once, her sleep disappearing once.
“What? No. I can’t live with you.”
Tristan’s arms tightened around her.
“It’s written in the contract. Section 7. Full cohabitation when I deem it necessary for your protection and availability.”
Ophelia sat up straighter, heart racing.
“I can’t live with you. What if people see me? What about Nicholas? I…”
“I don’t give a damn about Nicholas, and mind the way you call his name!” Tristan said firmly.
“You are living here henceforth.”
She stared at him in shock, feeling like she had praised him too quickly.
The romantic moment suddenly felt like another cage.
She popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth angrily and stood up, ready to leave.
Tristan caught her wrist gently.
“I will give you until next weekend to move your things and don’t bring any of those plain clothes down here. I will have better ones prepared.”
“I haven’t accepted this,” she protested.
“You don’t have to. You already signed the contract, so you have no choice.”
Ophelia rolled her eyes in frustration and turned to leave, but Tristan stopped her again.
He stood up, walked to a side table, and picked up a thick file.
He moved toward her and stretched it out.
She looked down at it angrily.
“What is this?”
“30% shares in City Medical Center,” Tristan said calmly.
“My original 22%, plus 2% from Liora and 6% from Nicholas. It’s all yours now.”
Ophelia froze, staring at the documents in disbelief.
“What…? Are you saying you transferred the whole 30% to me? I… I own it?”
Tristan nodded, his eyes dark with satisfaction.
“I worked you out hard last night, so I wouldn’t take my payback right away. But be ready to take me all in, Ophelia.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, whispering against her skin, “You don’t have to tell them now, you use it to fight against them in the future”
Ophelia stood there, clutching the file, her heart pounding with shock, she only had 3% shares and she knew how hard it was for her to get it now she has 30% more which means she can control almost all the workers there.
Damn it!
Tristan is changing her status really quickly.