Morning came faster than I expected.
When I opened my eyes, Lucien was no longer in bed.
Wow, he's an early bird, I thought.
I closed my eyes again, stretching lazily, determined to enjoy a few extra minutes on the softest mattress I had ever slept on.
"I can see you're awake."
His voice came from the doorway.
I froze.
I didn't respond. Instead, I pretended to be asleep, breathing slowly, hoping he would leave.
"A wife is supposed to be awake by six a.m.," he continued calmly, "before her husband. She prepares breakfast for him."
His footsteps moved closer to the bed.
In my head, I laughed.
A servant, I corrected silently. That's what servants are for.
I smiled to myself before opening my eyes. "I thought that rule applied to maids," I said lightly. "I'm not just any wife. I'm Lucien Blackwood's woman, your only legal wife."
I waited for a reaction.
A smile.
A scoff.
Anything.
Nothing.
His face remained perfectly still, like it had been designed that way. Static. Untouched by emotion. I could swear I'd never seen a single picture of this man smiling.
Does he ever smile? I wondered.
Lucien looked at me the way one looks at someone who doesn't yet understand the rules of a game they've already lost.
Then he said softly, "I sent you an email."
I frowned. "An email?"
"Yes. Pick any country you'd like us to honeymoon in. I'll make the necessary preparations so we can leave today."
Honeymoon.
The word exploded in my head.
My mind swelled with sudden excitement, confusion, and disbelief. Any country? Leave today?
But one question rose above the rest.
"Why an email?" I asked, pushing myself up on the bed. "You're literally standing in the same room as me. Couldn't you just… say it?"
Lucien studied me for a moment, then replied evenly, "Written communication prevents misunderstandings."
Of course it does.
I grabbed my phone and opened the email.
Of course, it was neatly titled:
Honeymoon Arrangements – Draft
Draft.
Like our marriage was a project proposal.
The message was brief and painfully organized. A list of countries and cities followed_France, Italy, Greece, Maldives, Switzerland, Dubai, New York....each with suggested durations, weather forecasts, and security notes.
Security notes.
I smiled despite myself and tapped Dubai. If I was going to honeymoon with a man who communicated like a robot, at least I'd do it somewhere romantic.
Just as I was about to close the email, I noticed something beneath the list.
Another heading.
Honeymoon Rules
My smile slowly faded.
I scrolled.
Rule one: No unscheduled outings.
Rule two: All movements must be communicated in advance.
Rule three: No sharing of personal information with strangers.
Rule four: No being clingy and too touchy
I reread the list, my brows knitting together.
What is this? A honeymoon or a military operation?
I locked my phone and slipped out of bed.
Lucien had disappeared earlier_heading toward the basement, if I remembered correctly. He'd mentioned something about his study.
Good.
Because I needed answers.
I followed the quiet hallway down the stairs, past rooms that looked too perfect to be lived in, until I reached the basement corridor.
That was when I saw it.
A huge steel door stood in front of me.
Not wood.
Not glass.
Steel.
And flanking it, two men in black suits, tall, broad, expressionless. Not security. Not house staff.
Bodyguards.
As soon as I stepped closer, one of them moved.
"Ma'am," he said, his voice deep and intimidating. "No one is allowed into the boss's private chamber."
The other guard looked at me like I'd accidentally wandered into the wrong life.
Who the hell is even this lady? was clearly written all over his face.
My heart skipped, but I straightened my shoulders.
Boss lady energy, I reminded myself.
"I see he hasn't really done introductions yet," I said calmly. "I'm Kimmy Blackwood. Your boss's wife."
The words felt strange in my mouth. Heavy. Powerful.
Their expressions didn't change.
"To our knowledge," the first guard replied evenly, "the boss has no woman in his life."
My stomach dropped.
"And if he does," the second added, "she would still not be allowed here."
I stared at them, disbelief crawling up my spine.
I tried explaining.
I tried insisting.
I even tried flashing my wedding ring like it might magically override whatever loyalty chip they had installed.
Nothing.
Finally, I gave up.
I turned around and walked back upstairs, my steps slower than before.
Back in my room, I collapsed onto the bed.
What the hell was in a study that no one, not even a wife_was allowed to enter?
I stared at the ceiling, the honeymoon rules flashing in my mind.
Soon after, he walked into the room.
"I like your response," he said.
He was smirking.
Lightly.
I froze.
Wait_did he just show an actual facial expression? One that wasn't calm, blank, or terrifyingly neutral?
"What response?" I asked carefully.
"Your choice," Lucien replied. "Dubai. I assumed you'd pick somewhere else, but you chose what I had in mind."
He said it like coincidence, even though Dubai's name in the email had been slightly bolder than the rest, almost highlighted. As if my decision had already been made for me.
I crossed my arms. "So why pretend I had options?"
"People cooperate better when they believe they do," he said smoothly.
I hesitated, then decided to take the leap. "Lucien… I went looking for you earlier."
His eyes flicked to me, sharp and alert. "Where?"
"Your study," I said. "In the basement."
The smirk vanished.
"I didn't get far," I added quickly. "There were guards. They wouldn't let me in."
Silence filled the room.
"They said," I continued, watching his face closely, "that to their knowledge, you have no woman in your life. And even if you did, she wouldn't be allowed there."
I waited for him to deny it.
He didn't.
"That area is restricted," he said firmly.
Lucien studied me for a long moment, then said calmly, "Some parts of my life don't change because of marriage."
I swallowed. "That doesn't answer my question."
"No," he agreed. "But it's the only answer you'll get for now."
For now.
I didn't like that phrase.