Evelyn
The moment Evelyn stepped out of her campus she knew something was wrong.
She felt sharp eyes staring at her along with giggles and whispers. And then she saw him.
Alexander Asimov.
Leaning against that sleek black car like he owned the whole damn city which he kind of technically did. Her husband. The infamously stoic billionaire CEO. Standing in front of her college like it was the lobby of one of his boardrooms.
Her stomach dropped.
He was the last person she wanted to see right now.
The wedding photo had already gone viral and now he was there to confirm those photos and the unsure news.
She hated this unwanted attention. He was the most sought-after man in the country, and she was a nobody. Every girl on campus probably had him pinned to their vision boards, and now he was married to her.
She looked at him once briefly and then walked right past him. She didn't care if it was rude. She didn't care if it made him angry. She just couldn't handle the weight of those eyes anymore.
But, of course, he followed. She wasn't surprised when his hand caught her wrist.
She was so tired of all of it.
She slid into the car silently, pressing herself against the window like it could somehow put more distance between them.
The drive was uncomfortably quiet.
She didn't want to look at him. Didn't want to acknowledge the fact that, despite how composed he looked, there was an energy about him that unsettled her. Energy that screams control and power.
And it made her feel small.
Her stomach growled quietly . Not that he noticed. She hadn't eaten since morning. And now hunger pressed into her , but she clenched her jaw and stared out at the city lights.
He didn't say anything either. Not until that little jab about his "ugly face," which she ignored. She wasn't in the mood for sarcasm.
Let him think whatever he wanted.
Alexander
The drive back was quiet, and much longer than I remembered. I realized just how far her college actually was from the penthouse. It wasn't practical for daily travel for someone like her.
Another miscalculation.
When we finally pulled up, I got out first. Evelyn followed, head down. She hadn't spoken a word since the car started. I wasn't sure if it was pride, stubbornness, or something else.
Inside, a middle-aged couple stood in the living room. The woman smiled first.
"Dinner is ready, sir."
Must be the house help Dmitri mentioned. Efficient as always.
I nodded. "Good."
Then I looked at Evelyn. "Come. Have dinner."
She didn't speak. Just quietly followed me to the dining area .
I sat at the head of the table, she sat across from me. I watched her in silence for a while. She looked tired. Not just physically. As if every part of her was stretched thin, like the old clothes she wore. I couldn't ignore it anymore.
"Do you know how to drive?"I broke the silence first
"I learned," she said softly. "I don't have a license yet."
I nodded. "We'll take care of that."
She didn't answer. Just kept eating quietly.
After dinner, I walked into my study and dialed Dmitri.
"Send another car to the penthouse, And arrange for some casual clothes. Everyday wear, comfortable. Shoes too. And essentials, whatever a college student might need."
There was a pause on the line, then a quiet, "Understood."
It wasn't pity. It was responsibility. I might not have wanted this marriage, but I wasn't going to parade around pretending I couldn't see her wearing clothes with fading seams and a torn bookbag.
A few hours later, everything arrived. Boxes, bags, tags still on. I told the maid where to put them. I wanted to give her the car keys personally. But Evelyn hadn't come out of her room.
I crossed the hallway and knocked.
No response.
I knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing.
A flicker of anxiety passed through me. I didn't like not knowing where people were. Especially people I was responsible for.
I opened the door.
The lights were soft. The bed untouched. But no sign of her.
Just as I stepped in, the bathroom door clicked and swung open.
And then she appeared.
Wearing nothing but a short bath towel, damp hair clinging to her shoulders, water still glistening on her skin. She froze as soon as she saw me , startled and without a word, she turned around quickly, shielding herself.
I stood still for a second longer than I should have.
Then I cleared my throat and looked away. "I knocked," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "You didn't answer."
No reply.
Just silence and the sound of her hurried movement behind me.
I stepped out of the room immediately and shut the door.
I wasn't sure what startled me more seeing her like that
or realizing I hadn't wanted to look away.
I was pacing outside her room when I she finally said nervously,
"You can come in."
I stopped.
I opened the door and stepped in.
She was wearing a loose-fitting pajama set now. Her hair was still damp. She looked like she was trying her best to pretend that the awkward moment from earlier hadn't happened.
But she wasn't good at hiding things. The discomfort was still written all over her face.
So I kept it simple.
I pulled the car keys from my pocket and held them out to her. She looked a bit surprised.
"Your license will be delivered by morning, you'll need to drive yourself to college from now on. The penthouse is too far, and I don't have time to pick you up or drop you off every day."
She nodded, still not meeting my eyes.
That made it easier to leave.
I didn't say anything else. Just turned on my heel and left the room before I could overthink it. Before that image of her slipped back into my mind again.
I shut the door to my own room behind me, harder than necessary.
It was too warm. My collar felt tighter. I loosened it, went straight to the mini-bar, poured a glass of water, and drank it down in one go.
What the hell is wrong with me?
She was just a girl I had married out of necessity.
She didn't belong in my world. She didn't belong in this penthouse, in my space, in my life.
And yet she was here.
A soft-footed invader in my carefully controlled, razor-lined fortress of solitude. And worst of all,
She was beautiful.
The kind that crept in slowly, like fog under a locked door. Warm eyes. Pale skin. That goddamn quiet innocence that was starting to stir parts of me I had long since put to sleep.
Focus, Alexander.
You married her to save your company, not to ruin your sanity.
And definitely not to fall for her.