Chapter 6

"May we go to your family's estate, Mr. Vincent?"

Vincent was momentarily stunned. He'd mentally considered various demands she might make—most likely money, or simply leaving him—but this was completely unexpected.

"The manor?" His voice trailed off, carrying a hint of barely perceptible resistance. "Why? I've never liked going near those places."

Aurelie lowered her eyes, voice softening. "I'm blind, remember? When someone's around, the darkness isn't so unbearable."

Vincent's initial resistance crumbled at those words. A strange tightness gripped his chest—the words shouldn't have affected him, yet he clearly felt that tightness.

She softened when she smelled his scent—the cedarwood scent added a touch of unguarded warmth.

Perfect. Exactly right.

She needed to get close to Aston Keegan, to step into that old house, and to get the recipe. This unexpected marriage wasn't part of her plan, but now it seemed like a shortcut fate had given her—as long as Vincent never found out her true purpose.

She bent down to reach for her backpack lying at her feet. "Where did I put my things...?"

Vincent instinctively reached out. "What are you looking for?"

"My white cane."

"I'll help you find it."

Their hands brushed together inadvertently inside the bag, for a fleeting moment. A sudden jolt of predatory instinct rippled through Vincent, and an idea, without warning, crashed into his mind—

Mine.

He almost blurted out a curse. Her scent wafted up unabashedly, a blend of rose and baby powder softness, with a faint hint of vanilla underneath—too sweet, too intoxicating.

"Oh, Alpha Vin," Varne chuckled gleefully in his mind, "your reaction is way too obvious—aren't you going to try and hide it?"

"Shut up," Vincent gritted his teeth inwardly, but his ears involuntarily burned.

Aurelie finally pulled the thin white stick out of her bag, and with a flick of her wrist, hit him on the arm.

"Ouch!" He winced in pain, voice tinged with self-righteous indignation, "honey, why did you hit me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, darling," she whispered, reaching out to find his arm and gently smoothing it.

This attempt to comfort him made his earlier grievances vanish, and he even felt a bit silly and happy—the blow from that stick didn't seem to hurt so much anymore.

"Let's go," she said. "Your family must be getting impatient."

"As your wife, I should greet your family, right?" This time, Aurelie even touched Vincent's arm again.

Damn it!

Vincent cursed himself for being spineless, but he couldn't suppress the urge to smile.

Women constantly orbited around him, though none actually wanted anything real with him. For Vincent, they were just playthings.

He despised constraints, control, and interruptions. His code was simple: one night maximum, no drama afterward—break that rule and you'd forfeit whatever benefits you were chasing from Vincent.

These women materialized on their own, uninvited, queuing up with hopes he'd pick them as his companion for the night.

Nobody had truly caught his attention or stuck in his memory—not until this moment. Standing next to him was this small blind woman whose voice flowed like Johann Strauss II's The Blue Danube—smooth and melodic. Her distinctive scent hung in the air around them, and his pulse hammered at twice its normal rhythm.

Vincent looked down at where Aurélie's hand sat easily on his arm.

Was she incredibly sheltered, totally oblivious to everything people said about Vincent Alexander Keegan? He was infamous for sleeping around—a man who destroyed women emotionally and physically, brutal and volatile, an untamed troublemaker. Who could even count all the ugly things attached to his reputation?

Still, she displayed zero anxiety. She behaved as if they'd been acquainted forever and were deeply connected.

Technically, they were married—a situation created by the vicious schemes of Aurélie's former fiancé Matthew Damon, combined with Vincent's own vendetta against the father who'd walked out on him.

What began as absurdity had taken an unexpected turn when this young woman flipped everything around, stunning everyone present—Vincent most of all—through her bold move.

"Darling, I'm blind. I need you with me so I can meet your extended family," Aurélie repeated.

She moved toward Vincent but tripped on something underfoot. Vincent instantly caught Aurélie's unsteady frame, placing his arm—feather-light—around her shoulders as he examined her carefully.

"Are you hurt?" Vincent asked. The worry threading through his words made Aurélie's mouth curve upward. "Aulie, you've got to watch where you're going."

"Aulie?" Aurélie sounded confused.

"Yeah," Vincent said, inspecting her legs to confirm nothing was damaged. "Your full name's too long. Unless you'd rather I call you 'Aurel'?"

Aurélie's smile widened as she shook her head. "The hunters used to call me that. I like what you said first better."

"Oh, for crying out loud! This little creature is completely adorable! Just look at how those pretty lips are sitting right now!" Vane burst out enthusiastically.

"Vane, quit gawking like that!" Vincent barked, irritated.

"Let's head there together, okay?" Aurélie softly urged Vincent to come with her to the White House—where the Keegan family lived and where his pack was centered.

Aurélie felt convinced the property held numerous complicated secrets, and keeping Vincent beside her would simplify everything significantly.

"Can't do it," Vincent said. "I've got pressing things to handle. What happened with the Damons already ate up too much of my time. I've got a business to manage—time equals money."

While Vincent was weighing this, his phone vibrated quietly in his pocket.

"Sir," Gary reported, "Liam's called twice saying the client's waiting at the location."

Vincent addressed his driver. "Newman, drive Miss Aurélie to the White House."

Newman dipped his head respectfully and pulled open the vehicle door for Aurélie.

"Step in please, Miss Aurélie. I'll drive you to the White House," Newman offered.

Reaching the White House required roughly thirty minutes since it sat on White Lotus Mountain outside the city limits—the entire zone belonged to the Keegan family. Once Vincent's vehicle rolled onto the grounds, the staff identified it immediately. They clustered near the entrance to greet him and show deference to Aston Keegan X's celebrated grandson.

They consistently felt happy when Vincent came back, even though his returns had grown less and less common as years passed.

Vincent barely showed up anymore. He stayed perpetually occupied, particularly after the family enterprise—"Magical Keegan," a company generations deep in cosmetics and fragrances—passed into his hands when his father chose military service instead.

He appeared at the White House even more rarely after constructing his own residence close to company headquarters.

Still, any time Vincent did come by, it delighted Grandpa Aston, who treasured these visits.

Mira, the White House's chief maid, rushed toward the vehicle. She constantly worked to satisfy her employer and held special affection for Vincent. He was lavish during his visits, compensating her generously and requesting she look after his grandfather properly.

But Mira's face—along with the other maids'—turned icy the second they spotted an unfamiliar young woman seated by herself in the car.

"Mr. Newman, you've transported a stranger here," Mira stated sharply. "Like always, she requires Mr. Aston's approval before entering."

"Mrs. Mira, are you aware of her identity?" Newman asked anxiously.

"That's irrelevant," Mira declared arrogantly. "She's unknown to us regardless—plus she didn't come with Mr. Vincent. Stick to protocol, or you could land yourself in hot water."

Aurélie coughed lightly. Newman glanced at her with concern after catching the sound.

"It's fine, Mr. Newman," Aurélie said gently. "I am in fact a stranger here, and I should respect proper behavior. I want my husband's family to see me favorably, so I'll follow whatever rules the household has."

Mira released a contemptuous huff. "A marriage certificate doesn't transform you into a Luna," she mocked. "Everyone working in this house knows exactly who Mr. Vincent was meant to wed."