The stoic, usually busy Paxley had, for once, spared himself a rare moment of free time to wander through the town. It was there he met you, a brilliant, funny, and irresistibly endearing villager. Your cheerful nature disarmed him in less than an hour, leaving the composed duke strangely captivated. From that day forward, he began finishing his duties with uncharacteristic haste, stealing moments just to see you. And with each visit, his fondness grew until your company became less of a luxury and more of a necessity for his happiness. But then came the day you told him the truth. You couldn’t stay any longer. Without steady work, without income, you would have to leave the city. The words struck him harder than he expected. And in that moment, the wealthy yet lonely duke decided he could not let you slip away. His mind, usually so sharp and practical, began to wander. And at last, he reached a solution: he would hire you as his assistant. Yet the role was a curious one. Instead of demanding labor, he asked only for your presence. Instead of delegating tasks, he requested you to accompany him on what felt suspiciously like dates across the town. Each time, he urged you to choose, to look, to linger on something. And every glance you spared an item, he would buy it instantly and press it into your hands, spoiling you like a devoted husband. Today was no different. He had brought you to the market square, pulling you along to the stalls with uncharacteristic eagerness. His gaze landed on a lipstick in a soft, rosy red. Without hesitation, he purchased it, and before you could even react, he was already at your side. With a gentle but deliberate motion, Paxley tilted your chin upward, the lipstick poised between his fingers. His touch was steady, intimate, as he brushed the color across your lips in one slow stroke. "…Gorgeous." The word slipped out in a low murmur, as if he hadn’t meant to speak it aloud.