Chapter 9 Chapter 9
Lily
It’s seven in the morning when I wake up to a soft glow seeping through the curtains. The bed feels too big, too cold—reminding me I’m not home. I sit up slowly, the weight of yesterday still pressing on my chest. I’m married. To Sebastian Manchini. The thought alone makes my stomach twist.
I pull myself out of bed, brush my teeth, and step into the shower. The water is warm but does little to wash away the reality. After drying off, I slip into a black coat over a fitted, high-waisted black short and throw on a plain white tee underneath. I do light makeup—just some mascara and a nude lipstick. I tie my hair in a low ponytail and lace up my white sneakers.
Grabbing my bag, I head downstairs.
The smell of fresh pancakes fills the air, warm and sweet. I hear the gentle clink of dishes and the faint sound of someone cleaning. As I turn the corner into the kitchen, I see Sebastian already there, standing at the kitchen island, dressed in a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He sips his usual black coffee and scrolls through something on his tablet like he's been awake for hours.
Does this man ever sleep?
His eyes lift the second he senses me, sharp and unreadable.
“Good morning, Lily,” he says smoothly.
“Morning,” I mumble.
A woman in her late forties walks past me, wiping her hands on a towel. She’s blonde, with soft wrinkles around her eyes and a kind smile. Sebastian gestures toward her.
“Meet Jane. She’s been working for me for years. Keeps this place from falling apart.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Manchini,” Jane says warmly.
I blink. Mrs. Manchini. It feels foreign, uncomfortable.
“Hello, Jane,” I reply, forcing a small smile. “Please, just call me Lily.”
“Alright, Lily. I’ve made pancakes, I hope you like them,” she says gently, then heads to tidy the living room.
I move toward the kitchen counter and pour myself some water, trying not to look at Sebastian.
“You don’t like being called Mrs. Manchini, wifey?” His voice drips with amusement.
I glance up, rolling my eyes. “No.”
He leans his elbows on the counter, watching me too closely. “You’ll get used to it.”
I take a seat at the island, pretending I don’t hear the smugness in his voice. But I feel his eyes on me like a flame, trailing me as if he’s waiting for me to break—or bend.
I finish the last bite of pancake, savoring the warmth and sweetness. Wiping my lips with a napkin, I grab my bag and head toward the door, eager to escape the tension lingering in the air. But before I can reach the handle, Sebastian’s voice cuts through the silence.
“Wait. I’ll drop you off at campus,” he says, already closing the distance between us.
I turn to him, trying to keep my tone calm. “It’s okay. I can manage.”
He leans in, so close I can feel his breath near my ear. “Are you sure you want to test me this early?” he whispers, his voice low, laced with something dark. “Do you want another reminder of what happens when you disobey?”
My cheeks flush involuntarily. I say nothing, just shake my head.
“Good,” he murmurs, then steps back, grabs his car keys, and slips on his sleek black coat.
I follow him into the elevator, the ride down silent except for the soft hum of the lift. When we reach the ground floor, he walks around the sleek black Bentley parked just outside and opens the passenger door for me. I slide in and whisper, “Thank you.”
He shuts the door behind me and gets into the driver’s seat, starting the engine with a low growl.
“I’m your husband,” he says while pulling out of the driveway. “And it’s my job to do husband things. So after class, I’ll pick you up. We’re going shopping. You need to pack for the honeymoon—we leave for France in two days. Then maybe dinner.”
I glance at him, hesitant. “You don’t have to do all that.”
Before I can finish, his hand reaches across the console, firm and sudden. He pinches my nipple through my clothes, not gently, not harshly—just enough to make me tense.
“You listen when I’m talking, angel,” he hisses, his eyes still on the road.
A gasp escapes me—not just from the touch, but from the command in his voice. My body stiffens, unsure how to respond. Part of me is rattled. Part of me is confused.
I turn my face toward the window, saying nothing.
The sleek black Bentley glides to a stop in front of the university gates, its engine purring like a beast at rest. I can already feel the weight of eyes on me before the car even comes to a full halt. A few students standing around turn their heads. Whispers start even before the door opens.
Everyone knows who Sebastian Manchini is—he gave a keynote speech here last week about business, power, and legacy. He left an impression… and not just because of his reputation.
Sebastian steps out first and circles around to open my door. As I rise, smoothing down my black coat and brushing imaginary lint off my shorts, I brace myself. But he doesn't just let me walk away.
He grips my waist gently, pulls me close, and plants a kiss right on my lips—firm, deliberate, and possessive. I hear a few gasps. I feel a hundred eyes.
“See you after your classes,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice low and commanding.
I just nod, unsure what to say in front of everyone. He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, then slides back into his car and drives off, disappearing as quickly as he arrived.
As I turn toward the campus, the murmurs grow louder. Everyone’s staring. I feel like a marked girl—picked out, labeled, and watched. Some are whispering. I hear my name. I hear his. “Isn’t that the girl Sebastian married?” “She’s the one…” “Why her?”
My heels click softly against the pavement as I walk. I keep my head high, pretending not to notice the glances and sideways stares, but inside, it feels like walking through fire.
And then I see her—Bella, waving from the courtyard. She looks like sunshine in jeans and a flowy cream blouse. I exhale in relief.
“There she is!” she beams, walking up and pulling me into a warm hug.
“God, thank you for showing up right now,” I murmur against her shoulder.
“You looked like a panicked Disney princess trying to escape the paparazzi,” she teases as we start walking toward the class building.
“You saw that?”
“Everyone saw that.” She gives me a sideways glance. “That kiss was… intense.”
“It was for show. He likes claiming territory.”
“And that territory is your mouth now?”
I roll my eyes. “Can we not talk about my mouth?”
Bella laughs. “Okay, okay. So how was your morning, Mrs. Manchini?”
“Awkward. Heavy. Full of coffee and complicated stares,” I mutter. “Also, Jane made pancakes.”
“Ohhh, you’ve got a live-in pancake fairy? Lucky.”
“I also have a husband who threatens to smack my ass if I don’t obey.”
She stops walking. “Uhm. Should I be worried?”
“It’s… complicated,” I sigh.
“I bet.” She wraps her arm around mine. “Come on, let’s get to class before the gossip turns into a campus-wide newsletter.”