Chapter 8: The Morning Chaos
The morning sun of Paris intruded impudently through the gaps in the velvet curtains, falling precisely upon Agatha's face.
The girl opened her eyes slowly. Years of living on the battlefield had trained her to wake with full consciousness in a split second, even in an unfamiliar place.
A king-size bed. The thick scent of musk and sandalwood assaulted her senses. A heavy, muscular arm was wrapped around her waist, pinning her down.
Agatha glanced beneath the blanket. Her eyes narrowed coldly. She saw her condition. She was wearing nothing but her undergarments.
Beside her, Xavier Valois lay on his side, propping his head up with one hand. The man was shirtless, his blonde hair messy, and an annoying smirk etched on his lips.
"Did you sleep well, my Future Wife?" Xavier greeted. His voice was husky with sleep, his eyes shamelessly tracing Agatha's exposed, bare shoulder.
Agatha didn't scream. She didn't even pull the blanket up in panic like a naive girl. She simply swatted Xavier's hand away from her waist with a calm but firm movement, as if brushing off a filthy insect.
"Get your hand off me," Agatha said flatly.
Xavier chuckled, not the least bit offended. "So fierce. Even though last night I was kind enough to be your personal valet. That party dress was too tight. You could have died of suffocation if you slept in it."
"Oh?" Agatha raised one eyebrow, looking at Xavier with a disdainful gaze. "So Mr. Valois has a hobby of stripping unconscious women? How pathetic."
"I don't need permission to touch what belongs to me, Agatha. You were exchanged for a high price. The wedding paper tomorrow is just a party for outsiders. In here..." Xavier patted the mattress between them. "You are already legally mine."
"Don't be too confident, Sir," Agatha retorted sharply. "Before the priest recites the vows tomorrow, I am still a stranger to you. And if you dare touch me again without permission..."
Agatha's hand moved calmly under the blanket. Not to cover her body, but her index finger pressed gently yet accurately against a fatal pressure point on Xavier's neck.
"...you might end up attending your own wedding in a coffin."
Xavier's emerald green eyes glinted with interest. Instead of pulling back, he leaned his face closer, challenging the threat. "A sweet threat. Just try..."
BAM!
The double doors flew open with a loud crash that echoed through the entire room.
"GOOD MORNING MY DARLING... GOOD LORD!"
The booming voice instantly turned into a hysterical shriek.
Xavier groaned in annoyance, burying his face in the pillow. "For God's sake. Mother. Can you knock on that damn door just once?"
Melynda Valois stood in the doorway, her face paling at the sight before her. Clothes scattered on the floor. Her son half-naked. And Agatha beneath the covers.
"XAVIER CALESTIANO VALOIS!"
Melynda ran toward the bed, raised her Hermes handbag high, and struck her son's muscular arm repeatedly.
Thud! Thud!
"Ow! Mother! Stop it! That hurts!" Xavier sat up, busy fending off his mother's brutal attack.
"You insolent child! You pervert!" Melynda scolded, her breath ragged. "The wedding is TOMORROW! Why are you already sleeping in the same room today?! Where is your brain?! In your knee?!"
"What's the problem? She's going to be my wife tomorrow!" Xavier defended himself, trying to catch his mother's hand.
"That is the problem! TOMORROW! Not TODAY!" Melynda exclaimed in frustration, her face flushing red. "Damn it! Do you want the wedding to be cancelled because you can't control your damn hormones for just one day?! You are violating family tradition!"
Amidst the chaos, Agatha leaned back casually against the headboard. She pulled the blanket up to her chest gracefully, watching the mother-son drama as if watching a cheap circus performance.
Her lips curled into a thin smile, a mocking smile directed at Xavier, who was getting beaten.
"Morning, Madam Melynda," Agatha greeted casually. "Please hit his head harder. Who knows, maybe his sanity will return."
Xavier stared at Agatha in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape. "You... you just stay quiet."
"See! Even Agatha is disgusted looking at you!" Melynda cried, then turned to Agatha with a dramatically pitying look. "Oh, my Dear. Forgive this beast. He must have forced you to sleep here. You must be traumatized."
"Very traumatized," Agatha replied sarcastically with a feigned expression, her eyes glinting mischievously at Xavier. "He is very... troublesome. Like a big baby afraid of sleeping alone."
Xavier's jaw hardened. The veins in his neck bulged. "Agatha. Watch your mouth."
"Quiet, Xavier! Get out!" Melynda ordered absolutely, her finger pointing to the exit. "From this second until tomorrow at the altar, you are FORBIDDEN to see, touch, or approach Agatha! Understood?"
"Mother, this is the 21st century! And this is Paris, not some remote village!" Xavier protested in frustration. "And this is my room!"
"Now this is Agatha's room! You, get out! Go sleep in the horse stables!"
Xavier snorted roughly. He realized he wouldn't win against these two crazy women. With a rough movement, he got out of bed wearing only his boxers, shamelessly showing off his athletic body.
He walked toward the door but stopped for a moment to stare at Agatha. His gaze was dark, full of a promise of retribution.
"Enjoy your time, Agatha," Xavier growled low. "Tomorrow night, there will be no Mother to save you from me."
Agatha simply waved her hand casually, an elegant gesture of dismissal. "Keep dreaming, Mr. Valois, and please close the door from the outside."
BLAM!
Xavier slammed the door so hard that the painting on the wall tilted slightly.
Once silence returned, Melynda let out a long sigh while fanning her face with her hand. She looked at Agatha with an amazed gaze.
"Wow," Melynda murmured. "You are quite calm around Xavier. If it were other girls, they would be busy trying to get his attention or seduce him."
Agatha smiled thinly, tidying her wavy black hair. "Seducing him is a waste of energy, Madam. I prefer breaking fingers."
Melynda laughed crisply, her eyes sparkling with delight. "I like your style! You really are the ideal daughter-in-law! Only you can handle him."
The middle-aged woman pulled Agatha's blanket. "Now, let's get washed up. Forget that pervert. Today our schedule is packed. Spa, body scrub, manicure, and shopping. I will ensure tomorrow you become the most beautiful bride in Paris, until Xavier won't be able to look away from you."