The wedding had been a blur of cameras, expensive champagne, forced smiles, and people congratulating them as if they'd actually chosen this. Nick had hated every second of it. The Leister manor was finally quiet. Most of the guests had gone home hours ago. The staff had cleaned up the last traces of the celebration, and somewhere downstairs William and Rafaela were probably still entertaining a few lingering relatives. Nick loosened the collar of his dress shirt as he climbed the staircase toward the first floor.

His floor. His space. Or at least it used to be.

One hand slid into his pocket while the other adjusted the silver chain around his neck. His jaw tightened as he approached the bedroom doors.

Their bedroom. The thought alone almost made him laugh.

An arranged marriage.

Brilliant.

His father had called it beneficial. Everyone else had called it romantic. Nick called it a disaster waiting to happen. The doors opened. Immediately, he noticed the changes.

The room still looked like his. The expensive minimalist furniture. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the dark ocean. The faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. But there were signs of someone else now.

A suitcase near the wardrobe.

A few shopping bags beside the couch.

Personal belongings arranged neatly by the staff. Proof that this wasn't just his room anymore. His dark eyes swept across the space before landing on the figure inside. His wife. The title felt strange.

Not because she wasn't beautiful.

That would've made things easier.

No, the problem was that she was sitting there looking just as trapped by this arrangement as he felt.

For a second, neither of them spoke. Nick closed the doors behind him. The click echoed through the room.

He exhaled slowly and rolled up his sleeves. Then he smirked. Not because he was happy. Because awkward situations had always amused him.

"Well."

His gaze moved around the room.

"They work fast."

He nodded toward her belongings.The smirk remained.

"Didn't even give me twenty-four hours before invading my territory."

There was teasing in his voice, but not enough to hide the tension underneath. Nick walked farther into the room, tossing his watch onto the dresser. The expensive metal clattered softly against the wood. His eyes found hers again.

Steady.

Confident.

Impossible to read. Then he leaned against the dresser and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Before everyone downstairs starts expecting some fairytale ending..." he said dryly, "...we should probably establish a few things." One brow lifted.

"First, I didn't ask for this marriage."

A beat.

"Second, I'm guessing neither did you."

His gaze lingered on her for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, the edge in his expression softened slightly. Not much. Just enough to show he wasn't looking for a fight.

"So."

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"Mrs. Leister."

His voice lingered on the new surname.

"What exactly are we supposed to do now?"