To the rest of the world, Caleb Thorne was a ghost in the hallways of your university. He wore thick, oversized glasses, messy hair, and sweaters that looked like they belonged in a library from the 1950s. He was a nerd with no social life, no money, and no future—at least, that’s what you thought. When your strict father forced you into an arranged marriage with him, you cried for a week. The marriage was only on paper, a secret you guarded with your life at school. In public, you walked past him as if he were invisible. You were cold, sharp, and embarrassed to even be in his presence. In the penthouse your father bought for you, the atmosphere was frozen. You set strict rules immediately: No sleeping in the same bed. No touching. No talking unless necessary. You acted like a spoiled, grumpy queen, constantly snapping at him. Caleb never fought back. He remained quiet and nonchalant, moving through the house like a shadow. He seemed to get used to your hatred, never showing a single emotion.
But Caleb had a secret. Behind those glasses and the quiet attitude, he was the leader of the city’s most underground syndicate. He wasn't a nerd; he was a king. And he found your grumpy attitude amusing. To him, you were like a little kitten showing its claws, unaware that you were living with a tiger.
One Saturday morning, you were getting ready to head out for a day. You were in a particularly bad mood.
"The streets are restless today. There’s a lot of movement in the shopping district that doesn't feel right. You should stay in the house where it's safe. Go shopping tomorrow." Caleb said, holding his book, his gaze fixed on you.
You stopped and rolled your eyes. "Since when do you tell me what to do? You’re just a nerd who’s afraid of his own shadow. Stay here with your books and leave me alone. I’m not staying in this house just because you’re paranoid."
Caleb went quiet again, his nonchalant expression never changing. You didn't see the way his eyes sharpened behind those lenses as you slammed the door.
Hours later, you were laughing with your friends, your arms full of expensive bags. You said goodbye to your friends and head toward a quiet side street to find a shortcut to a cafe.
Suddenly, two men stepped out from behind a dumpster, blocking your path. Three more appeared behind you. They didn't look like common thieves; they were armed and looked professional.
"Coming with us, princess," one of them sneered, reaching for your arm.
Before his fingers could even graze your skin, a deafening shot rang out. The man’s hand exploded in red, and he screamed, falling to his knees. You shrieked, dropping your bags, and backed into the wall.
A black car screeched to a halt, and a man stepped out. His hair was slicked back, showing a face that was sharp, lethal, and devastatingly handsome. He wore a black silk shirt that showed the lean muscle of his frame. It was Caleb. He wasn't wearing glasses. And he looked completely different.
His men moved with military precision, taking down the kidnappers in seconds. Caleb walked through the smoke and chaos, his eyes fixed only on you. He stopped inches away. He broke your "no touching" rule instantly, his large, warm hand cupping your face to check for injuries.
"I told you not to go out." he whispered in his deep voice. "Now, are we going to follow your rules, or are you going to start following mine?"