The room was cloaked in a soft, golden glow from the ornate chandelier above. Everything in the room screamed luxury—the plush bedding, the delicate curtains, and the antique furniture—but the tension in the air was anything but serene. The grand wedding that had just ended and an opposite scene unfolding between Evelyn and Alexander.
Evelyn stood tense, her muscles tensing up, her heart still pounding from the unexpected twist of her wedding day. This wasn't the old man she had resigned herself to marry. This was Alexander Arcene no, a Whittaker, a man whose reputation was as notorious as his looks were devastatingly handsome.
And now, with a smirk playing on his lips, he had her cornered, pressing her firmly against the wall.
"I've finally found you, my princess," Alexander whispered, his voice dripping with dark amusement.
Without a moment's hesitation, Evelyn's instincts kicked in. She swiftly delivered a sharp neck chop, her military training taking over. Alexander staggered, more from surprise than pain, but the flicker of amusement never left his eyes. Panic flooded Evelyn—had she hurt him? But before she could retreat, Alexander was on her again, his grip strong as steel.
"Nice try," he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he effortlessly restrained her. "But you'll need more than that to get the best of me."
Evelyn's heart raced, but she wasn't about to back down. Twisting in his grip, she managed to free one arm and reached for her thigh, where a small, concealed self-defense knife was strapped beneath her dress. She unsheathed it in one fluid motion and slashed it toward him, aiming to surprise him.
Alexander's eyes widened for a split second before he reacted. He caught her wrist, twisting her arm just enough to make her drop the knife, but his expression was one of pure amusement. He laughed.
"Well, well, aren't you full of surprises?" he chuckled, easily deflecting her next move as she aimed a kick at his shin.
The room became chaotic as they battle with each other, the luxurious surroundings now a chaotic mess. The elegant bedding was crumpled, the furniture shifted, and even the curtains swayed with the force of their struggle.
Eventually, Evelyn found herself breathless and pinned beneath him on the bed, her wrists held firmly above her head. She glared up at him, still defiant, but there was a glint of something else in her eyes—admiration, perhaps, or begrudging respect.
Alexander looked down at her, his breath coming in soft pants, and for a moment, there was only silence between them. Then, with a mischievous grin, he released her hands and grabbed the thick, heavy blanket from the bed. In one swift motion, he wrapped her tightly in it, rolling her up like a cocoon, her arms pinned against her sides.
"What are you—" Evelyn's protest was cut short as he secured the blanket around her, effectively immobilizing her.
"Shh," Alexander whispered, still chuckling as he lay down beside her, pulling her wrapped form close to him. "You're not going anywhere now."
Evelyn wriggled slightly, testing the limits of her blanket prison, but all she could do was glare at him. "You're impossible," she muttered, half annoyed, half amused.
"Get used to it," he replied softly, his voice warm and teasing. "You're stuck with me now."
Evelyn sighed, her eyelids growing heavy as the adrenaline slowly went away. "You know this isn't over, right?" she mumbled, her voice thick with exhaustion.
Alexander smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he whispered, his voice softening.
With that, the two of them drifted off to sleep, the remnants of their chaotic first night left behind in the room.
*****
Sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a warm, golden light across the room. The remnants of last night's chaos were still evident—the crumpled bedding, the furniture slightly askew, and the thick blanket that had cocooned Evelyn now lay discarded on the floor. Despite the disarray, a surprising sense of calm was in the air.
Evelyn blinked awake, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. The previous night's events came rushing back as she turned to find Alexander already awake, his head propped on one hand as he watched her with a lazy grin.
"Morning, princess," he greeted, his voice deep and smooth like he hadn't just spent the night wrapped around her like a human shield.
Evelyn rolled her eyes, pushing herself up to a sitting position. "Don't start," she warned, though her tone was more resigned than irritated. Despite herself, she couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked in the morning light, his tousled hair and relaxed expression making him seem almost boyish. Evelyn mentally slapped herself, is she crazy?!
Alexander chuckled, swinging his legs off the bed and standing up. "I'm just glad you didn't pull out another knife," he teased, stretching out his arms.
"You can't blame a girl for being prepared," she shot back, sneering as she stood up as well. Her muscles ached slightly from their impromptu battle, but there was a strange satisfaction in the soreness as she had earned it. Yeah, she needs to get a divorce, they can't do this. Her calm, detached, and indifferent personas are falling.
They both dressed in comfortable silence, the tension from the previous night replaced with an easy, almost companionable atmosphere. Evelyn slipped into a casual dress, while Alexander chose a simple shirt and trousers.
Once dressed, they made their way downstairs to the dining room, where breakfast had already been laid out. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air, making Evelyn's stomach rumble. The long table was set with an array of dishes—eggs, toast, fruit, and more—prepared with care by the household staff.
As they sat down, the clatter of dishes and soft murmurs of conversation could be heard from the adjoining kitchen. Evelyn took a sip of her coffee, savoring the rich flavor, when she caught snippets of the conversation filtering through the doorway.
"Did you hear what happened last night?" one of the maids whispered excitedly to another.
"Oh, I did! The master's room was a mess this morning! Must have been an intense night, if you know what I mean," the other replied with a giggle.
Evelyn nearly choked on her coffee as the meaning behind their words hit her. She glanced over at Alexander, who was calmly buttering a piece of toast, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"You don't think…?" she began, but Alexander cut her off with a soft chuckle.
"Let them think what they want," he said with a wink, clearly unfazed by the misunderstanding.
"But they're assuming—" she started again, her cheeks flushing at the thought.
Alexander shrugged, taking a bite of his toast. "They'll believe whatever they want to believe. Besides," he added, leaning closer with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "it's not like we're going to correct them, are we?"
Evelyn narrowed her eyes at him, half-annoyed, half-amused. "You enjoy this too much," she muttered, taking a bite of her breakfast.
He simply smiled, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied expression. "Can you blame me? Last night was… eventful."
Evelyn shook her head, trying to suppress snarky remarks. As much as she hated to admit it, there was something oddly charming about his nonchalance, his ability to turn even the most chaotic situations into something almost… fun. Evelyn is once again horrified, everything about this Lunatic somehow always makes her emotions flare.
They finished their breakfast in relative silence, though the occasional laughter from the kitchen reminded them of the ongoing gossip. Evelyn couldn't help but wonder what the servants would say if they knew the truth—that their "intense night" had been less about passion and more about combat training.
As they stood to leave, Alexander offered his arm with a playful bow. "Shall we, Mrs. Whittaker?"
Evelyn rolled her eyes but accepted his arm, a small frown playing on her lips. "You're impossible," she said, echoing her words from the night before.
"And you wouldn't have it any other way," Alexander replied smoothly, leading her out of the dining room and into the rest of their day.
*****
Evelyn lounged comfortably on the plush sofa in Alexander's study, her eyes glued to her phone as she scrolled through her messages. Alexander sat on the wooden table, engrossed in a stack of paperwork.
She had gotten used to this strange new life—quiet moments like these where the chaos of the world outside felt distant. Still, this is not a peaceful life. Anything about Alexander Arcene is peaceful. If only she hadn't closed that bookstore that day if only she hadn't met the Hartley family.
The door to the study creaked open, breaking the calm. Evelyn barely glanced up from her phone, assuming it was one of the staff, but then she noticed the figure that stepped into the room.
Alexander's assistant, Noire, walked in with a stack of files in hand. He was a tall, sharp-dressed man with an air of nerd about him. But as his gaze landed on Evelyn, all traces of composure drained from his face. His eyes widened, his jaw went slack, and the files in his hands slipped and scattered across the floor.
"Noire?" Alexander asked without looking up, noticing the sudden silence.
Noire didn't respond. His face had gone pale, and he started to tremble, his eyes locked on Evelyn as if he had seen a ghost. "Y-You… It's you!" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Evelyn raised an eyebrow, looking up from her phone. "Do I know you?" she asked, genuinely puzzled by his reaction.
Noire's breathing grew rapid, his panic escalating as he stumbled back, hitting the edge of the desk. "I can't believe this… You—Central City… The shoulder…" His words came out in a jumbled mess, his mind spiraling into a full-blown panic.
Evelyn's eyes narrowed as she tried to piece together what he was saying. Central City… The shoulder… And then it clicked. Her eyes widened in recognition just as Noire's knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.
There was a moment of stunned silence in the room.
Evelyn slowly got up from the sofa, walked over to the unconscious Noire, and poked him lightly with her foot. "Uh, Alexander? I think your assistant might be a little… faint-hearted," she said, glancing over at her husband.
Alexander finally looked up from his papers, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he observed the scene. "Faint-hearted?" he repeated, setting his pen down. "Or maybe just a little traumatized."
Evelyn looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
Alexander leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "That's the guy you shot in the shoulder on that mission in Central City," he explained casually as if discussing the weather.
Evelyn winced, the memory flooding back to her. It had been a high-stakes mission, and she had done what was necessary to get the job done. But now, seeing the man she had shot sprawled out on the floor, she couldn't help but feel a fragment of guilt—though only a small one.