On the other end of the video call, Mrs. Thorne heard this and quickly said with a laugh, "It really is getting late. It's past ten, so I won't keep you two young people from your rest."
"Joyce just got back, so you two must have a lot to talk about."
"We'll chat again when you have time. You two get some rest."
The call was quickly disconnected. Silas Thorne had already put some distance between them, and Joyce Monroe handed him his phone back.
That one word, "wife,"
had made her heart clench, but he remained completely unfazed.
He took the phone, continued to drink his ice water, and added, "That's my mother's personality. If I hadn't said that, she probably would have kept you on the line for over half an hour."
Joyce Monroe nodded. "I understand. Won't you get a stomachache drinking ice water this late at night?"
'Isn't there a saying? Out of ten domineering CEOs, nine have stomach problems, and eight reek of tobacco…'
"My stomach is perfectly healthy, according to my annual physicals." Silas Thorne looked at her. "And everything else is in great shape, too."
Joyce Monroe froze.
'Something about that last sentence didn't sound quite right.'
"Mr. Thorne, this is a marriage of convenience. We're supposed to divorce in a year. Since you're living in my house, you'll have to abide by my rules." Joyce Monroe felt it was better to lay some ground rules in advance.
Setting a few ground rules could prevent a lot of future trouble.
"What rules?" Silas Thorne asked, sitting on the sofa.
The natural air of someone in a position of power meant that even as he looked up at Joyce Monroe, he didn't appear the least bit subordinate.
If anything, it was Joyce Monroe who grew nervous under his stare.
"First, don't touch any of my embroidery supplies. If you need a place to work, I'll have Mrs. Zimmerman clear out the study tomorrow and make some space for you."
"I sometimes work very late, so I might disturb you."
"..."
"And if my friend comes over, I'll have to ask you to stay out of sight. She doesn't know I'm married."
Silas Thorne nodded. "Does your friend come over often?"
"Occasionally." Remembering he was quitting smoking, Joyce Monroe added, "Also, no open flames anywhere in the house except the kitchen, and no smoking. If you can't resist, you'll have to go outside."
'Quitting smoking is tough.'
After all, her brother had been talking about quitting for years and had never succeeded.
Silas Thorne listened silently, nodding along. "Any other requirements?"
Joyce Monroe thought of the scratches on his chest and cleared her throat. "Also… you can't bring anyone home."
Silas Thorne toyed with his water glass, his eyes flicking up to meet hers.
He seemed to be pondering what she truly meant by that.
"Don't stare at me like that. I understand that a man your age has certain… needs." Joyce Monroe pursed her lips. "Besides, Mrs. Zimmerman comes over almost every day, and she reports most of what I do to my dad. So, you need to be more discreet."
"Besides… there are plenty of hotels out there. It's more convenient."
"And I don't like strangers in my home."
'Silas Thorne wasn't that crazy. He wouldn't bring women to her place.'
'But what if one day he was suddenly bewitched, lost in the heat of the moment, his judgment clouded by lust?'
'It was better to set the boundary now.'
"Hotels? Needs?" Silas Thorne let out a low chuckle. "You seem to know a lot about this."
"We're all adults here."
"We agreed from the beginning that even though this is a secret marriage, we still have to put on an act for our families. You and my brother run in the same circles, so you need to be cautious and discreet. Don't let him find out."
"My brother doesn't know this is a contract marriage. Knowing his temper, I'm afraid he'd beat you to death."
Silas Thorne continued drinking his water. "Cautious? In what way?"
"For example…" Joyce Monroe cleared her throat. "Hickeys, scratch marks… things like that."
As she spoke, she even made a couple of gestures on her own chest.
Silas Thorne set down his glass, patting the spot on the sofa beside him. He gestured with his eyes. "Come here."
"What for?"
"I have something to tell you."
"If you have something to say, just say it from there."
"I don't like having to look up when I'm talking to someone."
Joyce Monroe frowned. 'He's so fussy, just to have a simple conversation.'
"Speaking of which, does your brother know that on the night of your birthday, you hired eight…"
Before Silas Thorne finished, Joyce Monroe had already hurried over to sit beside him, flashing an appeasing smile. "Mr. Thorne, what was it you wanted to say? Please, go on."
But instead…
He didn't speak. He grabbed Joyce Monroe's hand!
From holding the icy glass, his palm was not just cool, but also slightly damp. The sensation made her whole body tense up. She froze for a moment, and in the next second, he had pressed her hand against his chest.
Through the thin fabric of his lounge wear, the warmth of his chest was a stark contrast to the coolness of his palm.
Joyce Monroe's hand was trapped between a layer of cool and a layer of warmth.
She instinctively tried to pull her hand back, but he held it firmly in place. "Mr. Thorne, what are you doing!"
"Do you remember now?"
"What?"
"On your birthday, you grabbed my tie. Later, at the hotel, I was feeding you honey water to help you sober up when you started yanking on my clothes. When I resisted, you ripped my clothes and scratched me."
"..."
'So,'
'that night, not only had she pounced on him, forced herself on him, and bitten his lip, she had even…'
'Gotten violent!'
'She had scratched him?'
Joyce Monroe was completely dumbfounded, her tongue tied in knots.
"N-No way! I was drunk, not crazy!"
"You did, in fact, rip my clothes. My assistant was just outside the door at the time; he can vouch for me." Silas Thorne had released her hand by now. "When you're drunk, you're even bold enough to pounce on me in public. Doing something like this isn't all that surprising."
"Mr. Thorne, it was all an accident," Joyce Monroe said, feeling like she could cry but had no tears.
'Well, great.'
'After all that talk, it turned out the fool was her.'
'She was the one who left the scratches on his chest?'
'Joyce Monroe, you're really something else!'
"Don't worry, I'm not seeing anyone on the side," Silas Thorne said bluntly.
Joyce Monroe gave a sheepish laugh. Just then, her dog, having finished its yogurt, trotted over and rubbed against her leg. She began to pet its fur with a guilty conscience, and the dog closed its eyes in bliss. "That's good, then. I was just… giving you a friendly reminder."
Silas Thorne nodded, then looked at her again:
"You said earlier that you 'understand.' What exactly is it that you understand?"
"I…" Joyce Monroe was mortified. "Mr. Thorne, this is all a misunderstanding. I thought the scratches on your chest were… so…"
"I'm so sorry about what happened on my birthday. I didn't mean to be so forward."
Regarding what happened that day, Joyce Monroe had never properly apologized to him.
"It's fine. I just never expected something like that to happen. It seems I'll have to protect myself better from now on. Perhaps by locking my door when I sleep."
"..."
'Lock his door?'
'Is he treating me like some kind of predator?!'
Joyce Monroe coughed, changing the subject. "Oh, right. About the male models… please don't tell my brother about that. My friends were just messing around."
"I won't say anything, but I can't guarantee he won't hear about it from somewhere else."
"Okay."
As Silas Thorne stood up to leave, he added, "Even though this is a secret marriage, I will always remember that I am a married man. I won't do anything to wrong you or put you in an awkward position."
"Other than you…"
"There won't be any other women in my life, and I certainly won't let them touch me."
"As long as this marriage lasts, if I ever bring anyone home, it will only be you."
"Goodnight, Mrs. Thorne."
Joyce Monroe's hand paused in the middle of petting her dog. Annoyed, the dog nudged her leg, demanding she continue. Her expression was complicated.
It was as if Silas Thorne's words were saying:
He was keeping himself pure, just for her.