DASHIELL
What kind of person did I marry?
My heart was hammering in my chest as I watched him slowly but gracefully climb the stairs, not even glancing back once. For a second I didn't even realize my notebook had fallen to the floor with a soft thud.
He didn't pause. Didn't look down. Didn't offer to carry one of my suitcases. Nothing.
I sighed, I couldn't complain. Not really.
I chose this.
I walked into that courthouse and signed the paper myself. No one forced the pen into my hand. If the hospital was going to survive, someone had to do it, and Bianca sure as hell wasn't going to. So here I was.
I bent down, picked up the notebook, tucked it under my arm, and grabbed the handles of both suitcases. They were heavier than I remembered probably because my arms were already shaking.
The stairs were no easy feat.
Each step felt like lifting bricks. My breath came out in short puffs by the third one. By the sixth, my thighs burned. I paused halfway, leaning against the railing, trying to steady my breathing. The silence of the house pressed in, too quiet, and empty unlike my home, no chatter from parents, and Selene or the staff. Just… nothing.
I hated it.
But I kept going.
When I finally reached the top, my arms were trembling and sweat prickled along my hairline. The hallway stretched out in front of me: sleek black doors, recessed lighting, cold tiles underfoot. One door at the far end had a thin strip of warm light spilling underneath. That had to be his room.
I turned to the next door, dark, and closed. I pushed it open and flicked the light switch.
The room was large but sparse.
King bed with crisp white sheets. Black nightstands. One tall window with blackout curtains. An ensuite bathroom visible through an open archway, no single clutter.
It was clean. Functional but cold limd the person I married.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me with a soft click.
I set the suitcases down carefully, I didn't want to scratch the floor and looked around again. Bare walls. No art. No color. No sign that anyone had ever lived here, let alone slept in it.
I wondered if I could at least decorate this room. Since it would be mine.
A plant, maybe. Something green. A soft blanket. A framed photo of my family, Mom, Dad, Selene. Something to remind me I wasn't completely alone here.
I sat on the edge of the bed, hands in my lap, taking in my new bedroom.
The mattress barely dipped under my weight. Firm and unforgiving. Just like everything else in this house.
I exhaled slowly.
Okay.
One step at a time.
Unpack. Shower. Sleep.
Tomorrow I start at Astor Medical Center. New routines. New people. New sounds. New smells.
I can do this.
I have to.
I opened the first suitcase and began pulling out clothes methodically, folding them the same way I always did, placing them in the empty dresser drawers. Routine helped. Routine always helped.
But every few seconds my eyes drifted to the door.
I wondered if he was thinking about me at all.
Probably not.
I closed the dresser drawer a little too hard.
Then I sat back on the bed, notebook in my lap, and stared at the blank wall.
What kind of person did I marry?
I asked myself again.
The kind who didn't help with bags.
The kind who didn't show me where to sleep.
The kind who looked at me like I was an inconvenience he hadn't decided how to dispose of yet.
And the worst part?
I still felt… something.
Not fear, exactly.
Not quite.
Curiosity, maybe.
Or worse.
Hope.
That maybe—maybe—there was more under all that ice than he let on.
I pressed my palms to my eyes and let out a shaky breath.
God, I was an idiot.
I chose this.
Now I had to live with it.
*****
I was just stepping out of the shower, wiping my hair with the only towel I had brought with me. I'd packed in such a hurry that I hadn't thought to grab more than the basics. No robe. Just the damp towel draped over my shoulders while the rest of me was… bare.
I didn't think much of it.
It was my room now. Alone. The door was closed and safe.
I should have realized I was wrong.
The door swung open without a knock.
I froze mid-wipe, towel still tangled in my wet hair, water dripping down my back and chest. My heart slammed hard against my chest then kept going like it wanted to escape my ribs.
Alex stood in the doorway.
No expression.
None.
Just that blank, unreadable stare, his black eyes flicking over me from head to toe in one slow, almost bored sweep. He didn't blink. Didn't apologize. Didn't even pretend to look away.
I felt the heat explode across my face, cheeks, neck, ears, chest like someone had poured boiling water over me. My skin burned. My hands flew to cover myself, towel slipping from my shoulders and barely catching at my waist in time.
"I…I.." My voice cracked. "The door was closed….you should knock!"
He tilted his head slightly, like I'd said something mildly interesting.
"It was unlocked."
That was it.
No "sorry."
No "I should have knocked."
Just fact. Cold and Final.
I clutched the towel tighter, knuckles white, trying to shrink into myself. The air felt too cold on my bare legs. The tile floor was too hard under my feet. The lights were too bright. Everything was too much.
"What do you want?" I managed, voice small.
"I needed to confirm something," he said, stepping inside without invitation. The door clicked shut behind him.
My pulse roared in my ears. I backed up until my calves hit the edge of the bed.
He didn't come closer.
He just… looked.
At the towel clutched against me.
At the water still beading on my shoulders.
At the way my chest rose and fell too quickly.
His gaze lingered there ,long enough that I felt it like a physical touch. Not lust. Not desire. Almost like… assessment. Like I was a specimen he hadn't decided how to classify yet.
"You're blushing," he observed, his voice dry.
I wanted to disappear.
"I'm….I'm naked," I stammered. "Of course I'm blushing."
He considered that for half a second.
"Interesting."
Interesting?
That was all he had to say?
He took one more step forward.
My back hit the bedpost. Nowhere left to go.
He stopped just out of reach.
"Rule adjustment," he said quietly. "From now on, you lock the door if you don't want company."
I stared at him, mouth open.
He reached out slowly, and brushed one fingertip along the edge of the towel at my hip. Not pulling. Not grabbing. Just tracing the line where fabric met skin.
My breath hitched.
"Or…" His voice dropped lower. "You leave it unlocked. And see what happens."
Heat flooded me again lower this time, traitorous and unwelcome.
He watched my face. Watched the way my lips parted. Watched the way I couldn't look away from his eyes.
Then he stepped back.
"Go to bed," he said, turning toward the door. "We have an early start tomorrow."
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
I slid down the bedpost until I was sitting on the floor, towel still clutched like a lifeline, heart pounding so hard I thought it might bruise my ribs.
What kind of man walks in on you naked and doesn't even blink?
The kind who touched me with one finger and made my whole body react like it had been waiting for permission.
The kind who left me shaking on the floor, flushed and breathless and terrified…
And a little bit curious.
I buried my face in my hands.
God help me.
I was already in too deep.