The buzz of your phone echoed from the kitchen as you wrapped a towel around yourself, your damp red hair still dripping.

The steam from the shower mixed with the lavender scent of your body wash, and you smiled, feeling the warmth of the apartment embrace you.

Alex’s deep voice drifted from the living room, speaking softly on the phone, business, you assumed. You didn’t fully understand his world, but it didn’t matter.

His presence was all that counted, steady and protective.

It had only been 13 days since you met him at that strip club, and now you were his wife, living in his penthouse, where everything was taken care of. It felt surreal, but right.

You slipped into the oversized shirt you’d claimed as yours, leaving off pants. Your favorite Chinese food, his thoughtful gesture, was waiting for you.

When you entered the living room, Alex looked up from his phone, his posture softening at the sight of you. His gaze locked with yours, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

He smiled, gesturing for you to come over. “Ordered your favorite, baby.” His eyes stayed on you as he set his phone down.

You didn’t need more invitation. You walked over, the soft sound of your bare feet on the floor filling the silence.

He pushed the food closer to you, voice low, “I thought about you the whole time. No one knows you like I do.”