Chapter 7
Chapter 7:
Sophie came back to her senses, every muscle tensed.
Right—she was really married now. This was what married people did, wasn’t it?
Words caught in her throat. Sophie murmured something incoherent, twisting the sheet beneath her.
Adrian noticed her hesitation, and there was something almost playful in the way he studied her.
His smirk grew. “You don’t want to be intimate with me?” He closed the distance between them, the chill of his mask barely an inch from her skin. “Because I’m scarred p>
“That’s not it!” Sophie blurted out, her voice cracking before she fell quiet.
In her heart, she still clung to the idea that love had to come first, that sharing herself meant something more. All those fairy tales she had read as a little girl—with happy endings, princes, and soulmates—had filled her head with hope. But real life was nothing like the stories.
𝗢𝗋𝗀𝘢𝗻𝗂ze 𝘆о𝗎𝘳 librаr𝗒 oո
David had betrayed her trust. Now she was bound to a man who hid his face from the world. Maybe fairy tales were for children.
Swallowing hard, Sophie forced herself to lean forward, wrapping her shaky arms around Adrian’s neck.
He glanced down at her pale face and trembling eyelashes, his expression suddenly unreadable.
Before she could get any closer, Adrian put a steady hand on her shoulder and gently stopped her.
“I don’t make people do things they don’t want to. I’ll take the couch,” he said, his voice cold and steady. He let go and walked to the living room.
Dawn crept in, and Adrian was already awake, rubbing his forehead, lost in thought.
Across the room, Sophie set out plates for breakfast, moving quietly. When Adrian finally sat up, she glanced his way, uncertain. That couch could barely fit someone his size. But she brushed off her concern, reminding herself he had picked the couch willingly.
“You’re up. Come eat before it gets cold.” Sophie gestured at the carefully ironed suit. “I made sure your clothes were taken care of p>
Adrian offered a quiet thanks and pushed aside the blanket, getting ready for the day.
Turning away quickly, Sophie wondered why he wouldn’t bother changing in the bathroom instead.
Trying to fill the silence, she said, “Just so you know, I didn’t risk throwing your suit in the wash. I dropped it off at the dry cleaner p>
She was well aware that designer clothes deserved better than a spin cycle.
While buttoning his shirt, Adrian paused, visibly uncomfortable with the idea of his suit sharing space with strangers’ clothes at a public dry cleaner. Back home, professionals took care of everything with precision. Still, after a short hesitation, he kept buttoning his shirt in silence.
“What’s on the menu?” he finally asked, his voice still rough from a night on the couch.
The smell of something delicious drifted in from the kitchen, making him hungrier than he wanted to admit.
“Pasta!” Sophie grinned, turning with a plate in hand.
Her confidence lasted only a second. The plate slipped from her hands, and with a loud clatter, pasta and sauce landed all over Adrian—who had somehow appeared right behind her without a sound.
For a moment, Sophie wondered if he had wings. How did he move so quietly?
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Sophie grabbed for a napkin and tried to dab away the sauce staining his jacket.
She couldn’t believe her luck. The suit had been spotless only minutes ago, and now it was a mess all over again.
Adrian took the worst of it right across his chest and jaw, sauce streaking across the black mask he never took off. Sophie gently wiped his chin, spotting bright orange splatters on the mask itself.
“If you want, I can help you take off the mask and clean it properly,” Sophie said, her voice apologetic and full of concern.