Elena's POV
I regretted asking him "what now" the moment the words left my lips. Maybe I just wanted to start a conversation. Or maybe I just wanted to fill the silence that had settled between us like thick fog awkward and choking.
Justin didn't answer right away. He just stared at me, his gaze unreadable and cold as ever. I shifted in my seat, gripping the silky fabric of my dress to ground myself.
Finally, he spoke, his tone clipped. "We're heading to the hotel tonight. Tomorrow, we leave for the honeymoon."
I blinked. "Where are we going?"
He turned his head slightly toward the window, lips twitching with what might've been amusement or irritation. "Chill. Wait and find out."
I swallowed. That wasn't ominous at all. I just hope Justin does not have anything up his sleeves.
The rest of the limo ride passed in silence. Outside the tinted glass, the city blurred into darkness speckled with gold. Inside, the air felt colder than the actual temperature. I fiddled with the ring on my finger, wondering how something so small could carry the weight of so much.
We pulled up to the hotel a few minutes later. It was as luxurious as I expected modern glass and steel, lit with soft white light and lined with black cars.
I stepped out of the limo and tried not to gape at the sheer elegance of it all. A doorman welcomed us, and we were escorted to the front desk. Justin spoke quietly to the receptionist, then took the single key card and turned to me.
Only one.
"One room?" I asked in a whisper,trying to keep my voice neutral.
He raised a brow, not missing a beat. "We're a couple now even if this was my house, we'd share a room. That's final. Not asking for your take."
My stomach flipped. It wasn't the sharing that terrified me it was the proximity. The possibility of emotions slipping through the cracks. The walls I had built, shaking under his stare.
I didn't respond. I just followed him to the elevator.
The suite was breathtaking floor-to-ceiling windows, a king-size bed, white roses in a crystal vase, a chilled bottle of champagne on a side table. The soft hum of the city below filtered in like a lullaby.
Still, all I could think about was escape.
"I'm going to freshen up," I said quickly and darted into the bathroom before he could answer.
The door clicked shut behind me, and I exhaled. Finally, alone. My heart pounded against my ribs, and I leaned over the sink, gripping the edge like a lifeline. The girl in the mirror looked composed, but I could see the cracks.
I reached back to unzip the dress, tugging at the laces. Nothing budged.
I tried again, twisting, pulling, my shoulders aching from the effort. The stylist had tied it too tight. Of course.
I groaned in frustration.
No. No. No.
But I had no choice.
Moments later, I opened the bathroom door and peeked out. Justin had taken off his tuxedo jacket and was now seated by the window, the light from the city casting shadows across his face.
He looked up.
His eyes moved over me—slowly, calculating.
"I need help," I said, barely above a whisper.
He stood without a word and walked toward me. My breath caught.
I turned, presenting my back. The silk of the dress shimmered under the light.
He touched the lace, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of my back.
A shiver ran down my spine.
"Hold still," he murmured, his voice rougher now.
His fingers were surprisingly gentle. Each touch sent jolts through my body. I hated how aware I was of every movement, every graze of his skin against mine.
The lace loosened, and the tension in my shoulders faded but a new kind of tension took its place. It sat in my chest, in my lungs, threatening to steal the breath I had fought so hard to keep steady.
"Done," he said quietly.
I turned around slowly, my hands gripping the bodice of the now-loosened dress.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He gave a small nod and stepped back, returning to his spot near the window.
I disappeared into the bathroom again, had my bath , did my skincare, surprised that all my skincare products are here.changed into a robe, and stared at myself in the mirror. My skin was flushed. My eyes were too wide. I hated how he affected me.
When I got back into the room, Justin was still looking out the window, his hands in his pockets, looking like a perfect Greek god.
"I'll take the couch," he said flatly acting like a gentleman.
"No," I replied, surprising myself. "It's a king bed. We can share. Just… boundaries. That's all."
His gaze flicked to me, unreadable again, but he didn't argue.
He moved to the bed first, pulled down the covers, and settled in on one side. I turned off the lights and slid in, facing the opposite direction.
For minutes, silence hung heavy between us. My back was to him, but I could feel the heat of his presence.
So close. Yet so far.
"Goodnight," I murmured.
No reply.
But I knew he was still awake. I could feel it.
I stared into the dark, thinking about everything my father, my lost dreams, this contract I had signed. Thinking about what the future holds, hoping this decision doesn't disrupt my life completely but it has and I just have to Let God lead.And the man beside me, who wasn't supposed to make my heart race. But it did.
But did.
Even if I didn't want him to.
Even if I couldn't afford to let him know.
I just hope it is because I've not been in contact with any man that's why this feeling is happening to me and it would go away soon.
Sleep came slowly. But eventually, the weight of the day won.
And somewhere between exhaustion and heartbreak, I let my eyes close.
Tomorrow, we would leave for the honeymoon.
And nothing would ever be the same again.