Chapter 11 Chapter 11
Scarlett’s POV
Arthur was Damon's right hand. He'd worked here for years. He ran this house like a military operation. There was no way he'd make a rookie mistake like sending all my bedding away on my wedding night.
This was deliberate.
"Arthur," I said. My voice dropped all sweetness. "I mind very much."
His professional mask slipped slightly. "I beg your pardon?"
"I mind sharing a bedroom with Damon. Fix this. Today. Or I'm sleeping in a guest room downstairs. Or the staff quarters. I don't care which."
Arthur's eyes widened. "Mrs. Wolfe, I'm not sure the cleaning company can—"
"That's your problem to solve. Not mine."
We stared at each other.
Arthur blinked first.
"I'll make some phone calls," he said stiffly. "Perhaps we can arrange something by this evening. However, for this afternoon, I'm afraid the master bedroom is the only suitable option if you'd like to rest."
I weighed my options. He wasn't going to fix this in the next hour. And I was actually tired.
"Fine," I said. "But my room better be ready tonight."
"Of course, Mrs. Wolfe."
Arthur led me down the hall. We stopped in front of double doors. He opened them.
My skin crawled.
The master bedroom was enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows. King-sized bed. Walk-in closet. Private balcony.
Everything was in shades of gray. Cold. Sterile. Like a hospital designed by someone with no soul.
But that wasn't the creepy part.
The creepy part was how clean it was.
Not regular clean. OCD clean.
Every piece of furniture was pristine. Dust-free. The windows were cleaner than mirrors. Every item was perfectly aligned. Military precision.
Two succulent plants sat on the windowsill. They were the exact same height. Growing in the exact same direction.
Oh my God. He trimmed the plants to match.
The bed was made so perfectly it looked like no one had ever touched it. Not a single wrinkle. The corners were hospital-style. Sharp enough to cut.
I understood now. My room hadn't been cleaned for my benefit. It had been cleared because Damon couldn't handle my mess in his house. The man had severe OCD.
"Will this be suitable for a brief rest, Mrs. Wolfe?" Arthur asked.
"It's fine," I said faintly.
He left.
I stood in the middle of the bedroom. I was afraid to touch anything. Afraid to sit on the bed. What if I wrinkled the sheets? What if I disturbed his carefully arranged symmetry?
I grabbed my phone and went out to the balcony. Found a chair. Sat down carefully.
Spent the entire afternoon playing games on my phone.
At six o'clock, Arthur knocked on the bedroom door. "Mrs. Wolfe? Your room is ready."
I jumped up so fast I almost dropped my phone.
My room looked normal again. New area rug. New shower curtain. Fresh bedding. Everything back in place.
"Maria will bring up warm milk before bed," Arthur said. "Is there anything else you need?"
"No, this is perfect. Thank you, Arthur."
He nodded and left.
I took a long shower. Changed into pajamas. Drank the warm milk Maria brought. By ten o'clock, I was ready for bed.
I was heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth when someone knocked on the door.
"Come in, Maria," I called.
The door opened.
It wasn't Maria.
Damon stood in the doorway. Full suit. Tie still perfectly knotted. He looked like he'd just come from a business meeting.
He was holding the biggest bouquet of red roses I'd ever seen. At least three dozen. Professionally arranged. The fragrance filled the entire hallway.
He looked like he was about to propose.
I froze. Toothbrush in hand. Mouth full of toothpaste foam.
This was not how I wanted to have a conversation.
I held up one finger. Ran back to the bathroom. Spit. Rinsed. Came back out.
Damon was still standing there. Holding the roses.
"Is something wrong?" I asked carefully.
He didn't answer. Just looked at me. Then he held out the flowers.
I took them automatically. They were heavy. My arms filled with roses.
"Thank you?" I said. It came out like a question.
He stood there. Silent. Just staring.
The silence stretched. Got uncomfortable. Then painful.
Finally he looked up. Met my eyes.
"I apologize," he said. His voice was quiet. Serious. "I shouldn't have left you alone at the store to pick out clothes by yourself."
Oh.
He was apologizing.
"Something came up," he continued. "I just finished dealing with it."
"It's fine," I said quickly. "Work emergencies happen. I understand."
He went silent again. His eyes dropped. He seemed to be thinking about something.
The awkward silence was back. I wanted to dig a hole in the floor.
I cleared my throat. "Well, I should probably get ready for bed..."
"We're married now." His voice was flat. "Legally husband and wife."
"I know," I said slowly.
His eyes locked on mine. "Then why aren't you moving into the master bedroom?"
My brain stalled. "I thought this was... I mean, isn't this a marriage of convenience?"
His eyebrows crashed together. "Marriage of convenience?"
"Yes?" I nodded hard. Trying to remind him. "We got married so the baby would be legitimate. For legal purposes. Birth certificate, custody arrangements..."
Right? That's what this was? A practical solution to a practical problem? I didn't sign up to be an actual wife wife. This is temporary.
Damon's face changed. His expression went dark. Dangerous.
The air pressure dropped. The temperature in the hallway plummeted.
I took an involuntary step back. "Did I say something wrong?"
He looked at me. Really looked at me. His eyes were cold. Furious.
"If that's what you think," he said quietly. "Fine."
He turned and walked away. Didn't look back. His footsteps echoed down the hallway.
I stood there. Alone. Holding three dozen roses.
What the hell just happened?
I looked down at the flowers. Then at the empty hallway. Then back at the flowers.
Why was he so angry? I said the right thing, didn't I? This IS a marriage of convenience. That's literally what it is. That's why we got married. For the baby. For legal protection.
So why did he look at me like I'd just insulted him?
I carried the roses back into my room. Found a vase. Put them on the nightstand.
Crawled into bed.
Stared at the ceiling.
Men are so confusing.