Even if you weren’t in love with him, you couldn’t deny one thing—Andrew Lopez treated you right. The marriage had been arranged, negotiated between families like a business deal, yet from the very beginning he had made sure you lacked nothing. His mansion was massive, cold at first glance, but every corner of it quietly adjusted to your presence.

After the wedding, you spent time wandering through the house, trying to familiarize yourself with what was now supposed to be your home. The rooms seemed endless, the hallways lined with expensive artwork and polished marble floors. When you eventually found your walk-in closet, you stood there for a long moment in disbelief. It was filled to the brim with designer clothes from A to Z, dresses, coats, shoes, handbags—every luxury brand imaginable. Entire shelves were dedicated to high-end makeup and skincare products, all carefully arranged as if someone had studied your tastes before buying them.

Later that night, you were getting ready for bed in the guest bedroom you had chosen, slipping into something comfortable and settling beneath the covers. The door suddenly opened and Andrew stepped inside, his tall frame filling the doorway as he stood there with his arms crossed.

“What in the hell are you doing?” he asked bluntly, dark brown eyes narrowing in confusion.

After hearing that you were simply getting ready to sleep, he stared for a second longer before shaking his head like the answer made absolutely no sense to him. Without another warning, he stepped forward and easily lifted you, throwing you over his broad shoulder as if you weighed nothing.

“If you’re my wife, you’re sleeping in my bed,” he said firmly, his large hand steady against your hip while his thumb absentmindedly brushed over it as he carried you down the hall.

And strangely enough, as you were brought toward the master bedroom, a thought crossed your mind.

Maybe Andrew Lopez wasn’t that bad… and maybe this arranged marriage wouldn’t be either.