Charlotte’s POV:
I dragged my exhausted body back to the bedroom. My stomach had already started protesting, as I hadn’t even managed to eat properly during the earlier argument, but I refused to risk going downstairs again. The Kingsley dining room now felt like enemy territory.
With a sigh, I arranged my temporary bed on the sofa, smoothing out the thin blanket and adjusting the cushion that would serve as my pillow. I placed tomorrow’s clothes on the coffee table. Just as I was preparing to spend another uncomfortable night on the sofa, the door suddenly opened.
“Alexander!” I sat up abruptly, clutching the blanket tightly to my chest. “What are you doing here tonight?”
Since our wedding night, Alexander had never stayed in our marital bedroom.
“Have you been sleeping on the sofa the whole time?” Alexander glanced at me, his cold tone carrying a hint of curiosity.
“Mmhmm,” I mumbled, looking up at him warily. “What about it?”
He stood there for a moment, his tall figure casting a long shadow on the carpet. “Why not sleep in the bed?”
I rolled my eyes behind closed eyelids. “Our wedding night wasn’t exactly pleasant. If I took the bed and forced you to sleep on the sofa, you might throw me out of the third–floor window.”
“I don’t think you’re afraid of me,” he said, his tone indecipherable.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I replied straightforwardly.
I noticed his mouth curving into a slight arc, as if amused. I suddenly sat up, hugging the pillow to my chest.
“Alexander,” I said with a playful smile, “are you suggesting you won’t be staying here at night anymore?”
“Dream on,” he answered concisely.
I couldn’t help but provoke him further. “I don’t believe you’ll live with me. How will you explain that to your precious
Karen?”
He chose not to respond, turning instead to get his pajamas from the closet before walking directly to the bathroom. A
wave of panic washed over me.
“You’re not planning to sleep here, are you?” I called after him.
He didn’t answer, simply closing the bathroom door behind him.
Stupid mouth! I berated myself internally. Why did you have to provoke him? Now he might stay!
When Alexander finished in the bathroom, he briefly left the room. I sighed in relief. “Thank goodness. I wasn’t a jinx after all.”
But less than two minutes later, the door opened again. Alexander returned with a foreign language book, pulled back the covers on the bed, and lay down as naturally as if he’d done this hundreds of times before.
1/3
Chapter 16
The main light switched off, leaving only the soft glow of Alexander’s bedside lamp. I couldn’t stop staring at him–the absurdity of the situation. After about an hour of my undisguised staring, he finally looked up from his book, and our gazes met across the dimly lit room.
“Do you find me attractive?” he asked softly.
I immediately shook my head. “Not at all.” If I were to tell the truth, he was only moderately handsome.
“Then why are you staring?”
I shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. “Why don’t you sleep in the study?”
“Why would I sleep in the study when I have a perfectly good bedroom?” he countered, sounding reasonable.
“But I’m in your bedroom!” I protested. “Us being in the same room overnight… It’s inappropriate.”
Alexander’s eyebrow arched. “We’re legally married. What more propriety do you want?”
I reminded him of our three–point agreement, but he quickly pointed out that no clause prevented him from sleeping in
his room.
Damn it. He was right about that.
Changing tactics, I narrowed my eyes. “Alexander, you’re not planning something improper, are you? Is that why you
suddenly want to share a room?”
His response was immediate and sharp. “Charlotte, put away your teenage fantasies. I have no interest in children.”
I clenched my teeth, fury boiling inside me. My plan had completely backfired. I had hoped to drive him away with my comments, maintaining my territory. If he left, I could sleep on the sofa, on the floor, or dance around the room, but with him here, everything felt different. Invaded. Compromised.
Talk less, Charlotte. Much less in the future.
I pretended to sleep while Alexander returned to his cold, distant self, focusing on his foreign language book.
The room grew quiet. Only the occasional sound of turning pages broke the silence, and I found the rhythmic page- turning strangely comforting. My eyelids grew heavy.
Then my stomach let out a loud, unmistakable growl, betraying me.
My cheeks burned as I tried to suppress a second growl by pressing on my abdomen. Alexander put down his book and looked in my direction.
Gurgle gurgle, my traitorous stomach sounded again.
Seriously? I mentally scolded my body. You could have protested earlier when I was hungry, but no, you chose now, with him present, to throw a tantrum?
I heard Alexander’s feet hit the floor, then the soft sound of his slippers crossing the room. Mortified beyond belief, I covered my face with both hands, curling into a ball to conceal any further sounds.
2/3
Chapter 16
When I peeked through my fingers, Alexander was standing above me, observing my embarrassed state, my ears burning bright red. I expected mockery, cruel words, but he simply turned and left the room without a word.
After the door closed, I rushed to the bathroom and drank three glasses of water, hoping to quell my hunger with liquid.
I had just settled back under the blanket when Alexander returned, carrying a simple sandwich. Still embarrassed, I pulled the blanket over my head.
The sofa sank as Alexander sat down. He pulled the blanket away from my face. “Sandwich. Sit up and eat.”
I reached for it without hesitation, but Alexander held it just beyond my reach. “Beg for it,” he said.
“Not a chance,” I snapped back.
I angrily yanked my blanket back. Before he could move away, I slapped the back of his hand several times, hard enough to leave red marks, then pulled the blanket over my face again.
445
Alexander stared at his reddened hand, apparently realizing I was genuinely angry, not merely being stubborn.
“Eat if you’re hungry,” he said, placing the sandwich on the coffee table. “I’m going to sleep.”
He returned to bed, seemingly unaware that he, the arrogant Alexander Kingsley, had just conceded in our little power struggle.
In the early hours of the morning, still not having fallen asleep due to hunger, I heard Alexander get up. Through my half- open eyes, I saw him checking the sandwich on the coffee table. It remained untouched–my stubborn resistance to his arrogant attitude.
As he approached, I closed my eyes completely, pretending to be sound asleep. Alexander stopped, looking down at me.
“If she were still here,” he whispered, his voice so quiet I almost missed it, “she’d be about your age now, I guess…”
His words trailed off, leaving me wondering who “she” was and why thinking of her would make his voice carry such sadness.
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