Christopher was a vision of Nordic perfection, a masterpiece of a man with chiseled features that seemed to be crafted from cold, unforgiving marble. His blonde hair was a sun-kissed blend of gold and honey, framing a face that was both rugged and impossibly refined. But it was his eyes that truly captivated,piercing blue, like a clear summer sky, and somehow both warm and icy at the same time, a contradiction that held a silent promise of danger.
The crisp white shirt he wore was the perfect foil for his golden complexion, a stark contrast that accentuated the sharp lines of his jaw and the sculpted planes of his chest. It was almost unfair how well he pulled off the simple look, the way the fine linen skimmed his broad shoulders, the way the collar perfectly framed his neck, the way the sleeves seemed tailored not by a man, but by a god.
Every time Jackline looked at him, it was like her brain was short-circuiting. He was the kind of man who made you do double-takes, not because he was showy or attention-seeking, but simply because the sheer level of his beauty was a violation of the universe's natural laws. She'd catch herself staring, and then she'd look away, only to find her gaze drifting back to him like a magnet drawn to a pole it knew it shouldn't touch.
Even knowing it was ridiculous, she couldn't help but feel a little awestruck when she laid eyes on him. He was that one person who made you question the fundamental fairness of existence.
"I... I..." He made her speechless. He still held that dangerous aura, that silent promise of violence, but unlike yesterday night, where he had looked like the devil himself, today he looked like the god of light. She was certain she would never get used to such devastating beauty.
Christopher sat in the grand, high-backed chair behind his desk, his gaze fixed on her. Jackline couldn't help but feel small in front of him, like he wasn't just looking at her, but staring deep into her very soul, weighing her worth.
"Speak." The single word cut through the silence, delivered in his familiar, cold tone.
"I wanted to talk to you," she finally managed to say, her eyes darting away from his to stare at a row of ancient-looking books on the mahogany shelf.
He raised a single, perfect brow, a silent question.
"What did Alex do for you to leave those marks on his neck?" she asked, the words tumbling out. From what she had gathered, they seemed to be good friends, and she couldn't fathom what could have made him hurt his friend that way.
A flicker of something, displeasure? annoyance? crossed his face. "So are you worried about him?" The tone was flat, the displeasure evident. "I heard you two had grown quite close."
"I was just concerned because..."
"Well, if you're that concerned, you should go and ask him." He leaned back lazily in his chair, the picture of cold indifference. "Is that what brought you here?"
Jackline couldn't stop her hands from trembling. She didn't know why she was so incredibly nervous. It was just a man. A very beautiful, very powerful, very dangerous man who happened to be her husband.
"Well... I am your wife, and I deserve to know why you abandoned me for weeks after our wedding day. I deserve to know where you were and why you came back yesterday covered in... blood." The words came out in a rushing torrent, without stopping to breathe. She wanted answers, tired of being kept in the dark.
He just stared at her, his face holding nothing, the silence seeming to stretch between them. The minutes felt like hours under his unreadable scrutiny. He said nothing, simply watching her as if she were a scientific specimen.
"You ask a lot of questions, Princess. Now..." he said, finally breaking the silence as he stood up, his tall figure moving around the desk. He gestured toward the door, a clear, dismissive action. "If you don't have anything else to say, I have things to do."
Jackline stood there in disbelief, her anger flaring hot in her chest. How could he disrespect her like that? After everything, she deserved an explanation.
"You can't just dismiss me!" she said, her voice in complete shock.
He paused at the door, turning his head slightly. His eyes, once again, seemed more ice than sky. "Watch me." The door swung open, a final, cold invitation to leave.