Well, blow me down with a feather. If you’d held a gun to my head and told me Marcus would be this casual with his staff, I’d still call you a liar to your face. But I guess Min isn’t really his staff. I’m still impressed by how kind he is though.
Aiden, the driver, walks in, and Min leaves me with Marcus to find her own room.
“Shall we?”
He holds out his arm for me, as if we’re going for a dance instead of a tour of his—I mean, our home. Reluctantly, I hook my arm through his elbow. It’s a lot harder to be rude to him now that I’ve seen how kind he is to Min.
After a good hour tour of the mansion, I’m completely overwhelmed despite how soft-spoken and perhaps even gentle Marcus is. Clearly, the rumors that described him as sniveling and weak are untrue. In fact, I’d go so far as to say knowing what I need at the moment shows great strength. He’s not only kind and gracious, but smart too. Marcus has spent time telling me about the rich history of the home and artifacts. Not only that, he can tell you the chemical composition of a simple thing like the varnish used to stain the wooden beams supporting the high ceilings.
Don’t get me wrong, I love every single thing about this house. Every room is more beautiful than the last and is filled to the brim with history. That said, with every room we walk through, I realize how hard it will be to imprint myself on this house.
“Are you okay?” Marcus stops at the large grandfather clock, his gaze cutting right into me, and the weight of his question lands squarely in my chest.
Shit, can he see it? Can he see how overwhelmed I am? The tension creeping into my shoulders, the tightness in my chest, the dizzying flood of thoughts I can’t keep from crashing together? I don’t want him to know. I don’t want to show him any weakness. Not after the way I let slip I was homesick on our honeymoon. It left me feeling vulnerable and I promised myself I wouldn’t let it happen again.
I swallow hard, pushing everything down, pulling that mask back into place. It doesn’t fucking work.
“It’s okay, this is a lot. And I’ve been talking nonstop. Don’t worry, there’s only one more room to show you, and that’s our suite, then we’re done.”
I nod stiffly, and he leads the way down the hallway. My feet follow mechanically, but my mind is still miles away, tangled in thoughts I don’t want to untangle.
With Marcus being so kind, it’s difficult for me to remember that he’s also the heir of my family’s biggest rival, who is responsible for the warehouse bombings. I know some might think me unmoving, but losing all those lives gutted me. My whole job as a beta is to be the right-hand for my alpha—previously my father—and help take care of my people, and I failed. And even though I set up trusts for the families who lost loved ones, money doesn’t make a dent in that kind of emotional catastrophe.
I’m so lost in thought that I don’t realize we’ve stopped in the bedroom. My jaw almost drops at how gorgeous the room is.
It’s spacious, with dark oak beams spread across the high ceiling, giving an air of openness, yet it still feels deeply private, cocooned from the rest of the world. The walls are painted in a deep, muted burgundy, creating a sense of warmth andintimacy. A large, four-poster bed takes center stage, its frame carved from dark wood, intricate yet masculine in its design.
Slate-gray linens adorn the bed, while heavy velvet curtains, only a few shades lighter, hang from the tall windows.
A deep mahogany dresser stands against one wall, while the other is lined with bookshelves housing leather-bound books and artifacts collected over the years. There’s a quiet sense of power in the room. Everything has a purpose, nothing is out of place, and every item reflects Marcus’s sense of control, of owning his space. Yet another reminder that I don’t belong.
A large fireplace is built into the wall opposite the bed, and a brass clock stands on the mantle. I wish it were lit to ease the chill of loneliness in my bones.
“I’ve had the staff change the sheets for you. You can have the bed,” Marcus says.
“Where will you sleep?”
“Come, I’ll show you.”
He takes my hand and leads me to a hidden door. “This used to be a servant’s tunnel.”
Marcus opens the door, and I’m surprised to find a nice, but plain room crammed full of bookcases bulging at the seams with notebooks, tomes, and what looks like all sorts of study material. The bed is a simple single bed with a navy bedspread. Simple and understated. A vast contrast to the main room.
“This place is my escape when things become too much.”
I blink at him, thrown by the honesty in his tone. Marcus isn’t the kind of man who offers pieces of himself easily.
“Why are you showing this to me?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“You’re my wife.” His tone is steady, almost casual, but the words carry a weight that makes my pulse skip. “If anyone should know, it’s you.”
For a moment, I just look at him, searching his face for the catch, but it doesn’t come.
Something warm unfurls in my chest, pushing through the frost that’s clung to me since this nightmare began. For the first time in what feels like forever, the air around me doesn’t feel so sharp, and I feel something close to hope.
“Oh, and Leonard.” He says it lightly, but the unease prickles up my spine.
And just like that, my bubble bursts.
