Chapter 5

DREXON.

The Laurent Hotel was one of my properties—every detail from the Egyptian cotton sheets to the heated marble floors had been selected to meet my exacting standards. Yet as Luneth disappeared into the bathroom, I found myself second-guessing whether the jasmine-scented bath oils I’d mandated would be to her taste.

A ridiculous thought. Since when did I care about a woman's preference?

The water shut off abruptly. "Drexon?" Her voice carried an edge—not frustration, but something far more intriguing: flustered pride.

I was at the door in two strides. "Problem?"

"This damn dress." A huff. "The laces won't— I can't reach—" She exhaled sharply. "Could you call a maid to help?"

A slow smirk curved my lips. "You have a husband right here, sweetheart." The endearment slipped out before I could stop it.

Her sharp inhale when I stepped closer was more satisfying than any corporate takeover. My fingers brushed against the delicate skin of her back as I worked the intricate laces, feeling her shiver beneath my touch.

I should have stopped there. But the way her breath hitched when my knuckles grazed her spine sent heat pooling low in my gut.

"Are you helping or torturing me?" she snapped, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

"Impatient little thing, aren't you?" I teased, deliberately slowing my movements.

The more I fumbled with the stubborn ties, the more her flush deepened. I enjoyed it, but I didn't expect it to take so long. I could negotiate billion-dollar deals with steady hands, but these damn laces were defeating me.

"Are you even capable of this?" Her barb hit its mark.

My grip tightened involuntarily, and the delicate fabric tore with a soft rip, exposing the smooth expanse of her back.

"Was this your plan all along?" she demanded, twisting to glare at me over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed crimson.

In one fluid motion, I pinned her wrists against the wall, my body pressing hers into the marble. The torn dress gaped open further than intended, revealing more skin than either of us had planned. My breathing grew ragged as I watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

Christ. I'd had women before - beautiful, sophisticated women - but this wildcat somehow ignited me like no one else.

"Enjoying the view?" Her sharp tone snapped me from my thoughts.

"We are married," I murmured against her ear, feeling her pulse hammer beneath my fingertips. "Unless you're having second thoughts?"

Her eyes flashed with defiance. "Is this some kind of test?" That stubborn chin lifted. "I told you I'm not some spoiled child playing house."

When she swallowed hard, that delicate throat working, something primal stirred in me. Then she rose on her toes -

The shrill ring of my phone shattered the moment.

I nearly growled in frustration. Only Marcus would dare call now. Only a true emergency would make him call at this hour.

"My apologies," I said stiffly, watching her flush deepen as the spell broke.

Wrapping a towel around her shoulders, I made sure the fabric covered every inch before stepping back.

"Don't worry about the dress." My voice came out rougher than I intended. "I'll have a new one delivered by morning."

The cold night air slapped my face as I walked to the terrace, Marcus's call flashing on my screen. I stabbed the answer button harder than necessary.

"Congratulations, you bastard!" Marcus's booming voice could probably be heard across the city. "I leave for one business trip, and you go get married? To the woman who was supposed to marry your nephew?"

My grip tightened on the phone. "Watch your tone when speaking about my wife." The possessive word tasted strange but right on my tongue.

Marcus laughed, unfazed. "Damn, you've got it bad already. When do I get to meet the legendary woman who—"

"There are more pressing matters," I cut in, irritation flaring at his interest. "The Singapore deal?"

"Right, right." I could practically hear him rolling his eyes. "But first—your idiot nephew just tanked the Brisbane acquisition. Wanna guess how much he lost?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Let him fail. Moreaux men build their own empires." A thought struck me. "Besides, my wife would skin me alive if I bailed him out after today."

Marcus's knowing chuckle grated on my nerves. "Speaking of your fiery bride, when are you bringing her to—"

"Not now," I snapped. "She's... adjusting."

"Uh huh." The bastard had the audacity to sound amused. "Well, don't take too long. The boys are placing bets on how soon you'll—"

I ended the call before he could finish that sentence.

The suite was dark when I returned, save for the moonlight painting silver streaks across the bed. Luneth lay curled on her side, one hand tucked beneath her cheek like a child's. The tightness in my chest eased... followed by an unwelcome pang of disappointment.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I wasn't some hormone-driven boy who'd take advantage of a marriage of convenience. Not until we were both certain this was what we wanted. But as I watched the steady rise and fall of her breathing, I couldn't deny the truth:

I wanted her to wake up. Wanted those sharp eyes challenging me again. Wanted another round of that intoxicating back-and-forth that made me feel more alive than any business deal ever had.

Running a hand through my hair, I turned toward the couch. This would be a long damn night.