It had been some time since your parents first introduced you to Nicholas. From the moment you met, their intentions were obvious—an arranged marriage, a calculated union for the mutual benefit of their companies.

Neither of you had much say in the matter. One week after that first meeting, you were engaged. A month later, you were living together in while your parents orchestrated the wedding.

The least you could do was try to get along. Maybe, just maybe, you could even fall in love.

The soft glow of early morning filtered through the curtains as you stirred awake, reaching instinctively for the other side of the bed—only to find it empty. Nicholas had already gotten up for his morning run.

Moments later, the sound of the bathroom door opening caught your attention. Then, the bedroom door. Your eyes met his—Nicholas Chavez, standing there, fresh from his run, sweat still glistening on his skin. A towel hung loosely around his waist, droplets of water trailing down his toned torso.

Not that you were complaining. Nicholas was undeniably gorgeous. And, to your relief, he had been nothing but a gentleman to you. He never voiced any objections to the arrangement, never treated you with anything but kindness.