Flash Marriage: Becoming My Ex's Stepmother

stal tumbler met the marble windowsill with a sharp,

ndering his expression utterly unreadable. His dark gray eyes swept over her, taking in he

ly following her audacious display of strength. Yet, it was also a calculated risk, a necessary test. She needed to gauge if ther

weight of his gaze, a tangible pressure on her skin

cutting, sarcastic remark that wou

ersian rug, yet she sensed his approach, a subtle shift in

his breath, mingled with the clean, sharp scent of cedar from his cologne. It

, a silent protest against

er he so carefully maintained would reassert itself. Then his voice came, lower and

ted the intricate buttons and loops of the gown, a deli

she f

t beside the top button. It was a fleeting contact, yet an involuntary shiver c

ed him, a soft exhalation that could have been a scoff of derision, or som

e tight with a controlled edge. "Thi

s complicated, she thought, a flicker of her usual sp

d balance sheets. He was methodical, his fingers moving from one tiny button to the next, his moveme

o sag, the boned bodice growing heavier against her chest. She could feel the cool air of the roo

. The silence thickened, charged with an awkwardness that rapidly morphed into a st

h our new alliance," she said, her voice a littl

use. "I dislike havin

handling unexpected developments." A hint of challenge crep

rony, was closer now, a low rumble against her ear. "I am a

pletely. The heavy, boned bodice slid down with a

ver her chest to prevent the dress from falling

lection. His expression was a dark, unreadable tapestry of emotions – surprise, perhaps a flicker of desire, and a deep, almost predatory assessme

he dress, but everything to do with the unexpected intensity of his gaze, and her own body's traitorous response. She t

y constructed barrier. "I'll take the sofa," he stated, turning to retrieve a spare duvet and pillow from a linen closet. It

esolve hardening. "The sofa?" Her voice, though low, vibrated with a new kind of strength, a

a frown deepening his br

he house sleeping on the sofa on his wedding night? You might as well send a written memo to the staff th

rgument in the language he understood best: business. This wasn't a plea for comfort or i

s eyes. He understood. She wasn't arguing for intimacy, but for the integrity of their public image, for the co

mous bed and gestured to the far side, a vast expanse of untouched

believe, for us to maintain o