Khalid'sPOV
She finished her pancakes slowly, like each bite was part of an interrogation. Fork, plate, mouth. Chew. Pause. Glance at me. If I'd poisoned her, she'd have been dead three bites ago.
I didn't mind the suspicion — suspicion meant she was thinking about me, even if she wouldn't admit it. And I had all week to chip away at her walls.
When her plate was finally empty, I leaned against the counter, folding my arms.
"Go pack a bag," I said.
Her head snapped up. "Excuse me?"
"A bag," I repeated, calm as ever. "Clothes. Shoes. Whatever you need for a week."
"A week? Where exactly am I going?"
"We're going," I corrected, picking up her plate. "And it's a surprise."
Her brows drew together. "I don't like surprises."
"You'll like this one."
"You're kidnapping me, aren't you?"
A faint smirk tugged at my lips. "You're my wife, Sofia. It's not kidnapping."
She crossed her arms. "That's… debatable."
"I'll give you fifteen minutes," I said, already walking away. "If you're not ready by then, I'll pack for you."
Her gasp followed me down the hallway. "You wouldn't dare!"
Oh, I would.
---
Sofia'sPOV
Fifteen minutes later, I was in the back of a sleek black car, glaring at the man beside me like it was a paid job. He hadn't told me a single thing about where we were going. Not a clue.
"This is weird," I muttered, forehead against the cool tinted glass.
"What's weird?" he asked, not looking up from his phone.
"You. This. The whole 'mysterious husband whisks you away without details' thing. It's very… mafia romance novel of you."
One brow lifted. "Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?"
"Depends on the ending," I said sweetly.
The corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile.
The ride stretched on, quiet except for the steady hum of the engine. I ran through possible destinations in my head — maybe some boring business trip where I'd be ignored the whole time. Or maybe somewhere far away so he could… what? Lose me?
---
Khalid'sPOV
The airport was just as I'd arranged it — empty. No flashing cameras, no strangers with phones, and definitely no journalists lurking in corners.
Jude stood by the jet, overseeing the loading of our bags.
Sofia stopped dead when she saw the plane. "That's… ours?"
"For the next few hours," I said.
Her eyes widened slightly, but she recovered fast, tossing her hair like she'd just yawned at a diamond necklace. "I'm still not impressed."
She was. I could see it in the way her gaze kept drifting back to the jet.
Inside, she let her fingers trail along the leather seats. She didn't comment, but her eyes gave her away.
---
Sofia's POV – In the Air
I picked the seat farthest from him — childish, but necessary. The jet was too perfect, too polished, too… him.
The engines roared to life, and the cabin gave a soft, gentle tremor as we rose.
"Comfortable?" he asked, not looking up from his tablet.
"Not really," I lied. "Feels like a fancy coffin with wings."
His mouth twitched. "That's dramatic, even for you."
I folded my arms. "Do you always abduct your wife for mystery trips?"
He glanced at me. "Only the interesting ones."
I almost choked. "How many wives have you had, exactly?"
"One." His eyes lingered on me a second longer than they needed to. "You."
The air between us tightened. I looked away first.
The flight attendant appeared, offering champagne. I refused, opting for orange juice. Khalid took the champagne, swirling it casually like a man who'd been born in a tuxedo.
"Where are we going?" I asked for the tenth time.
"If I tell you, it ruins the point."
I rolled my eyes. "If you tell me, it might make me less suspicious you're taking me to be sold to a royal family in exchange for land."
His lips curved. "You'd make a terrible bargaining chip. Too mouthy."
"I'd make an excellent bargaining chip," I shot back. "People would fight over me."
"I'd fight for you," he said simply.
My heart stuttered in a way I didn't appreciate. "That's… weirdly sweet."
"Not sweet," he corrected. "Just a fact."
I busied myself sipping my juice, pretending the cabin wasn't suddenly warmer.
---
Khalid'sPOV
The rest of the flight was quiet — at least on the outside. She spent it pretending to read a magazine she hadn't turned a page in for twenty minutes. I spent it pretending I wasn't cataloging every small shift in her posture.
When the jet began its descent, she leaned toward the window. And when she saw the first glint of turquoise water below, her lips parted slightly.
We landed on the private strip beside the villa — white sand, endless sky, and a stretch of ocean so perfect it looked painted.
She stepped out onto the sun kissed terrace, her bare shoulders catching the sunlight.
"It's beautiful," she whispered.
"Yes," I said, but I wasn't looking at the ocean.
---
By the time the week would be over, the ocean wouldn't be the only thing she remembered about this place.