The silence in the master suite was louder than the cathedral bells.
If that made any sense.
We were back at the estate, the afternoon sun dipping low and painting the room in shades of bruised purple and gold. The gala wasn't for another few hours, but my body was already staging a protest against the structural integrity of the ivory silk.
I stood in front of the vanity, reaching behind my back until my muscles cramped. "Dammit," I hissed, tugging at the invisible zipper nestled at the base of the halter neck. "Of course. The one day I don't have Penelope, I am trapped in high-fashion saran wrap."
Adrian was across the room, already half-unbuttoned, his tuxedo jacket discarded on the chaise lounge. He caught my reflection in the mirror and arched a dark brow.
"Having technical difficulties, Mrs. Reyes?"
The sound of that made heat pool in my belly. Why did I like that?
"Begrudgingly, yes," I snapped, my face heating up. "I can't reach the catch. Could you...?"
"No."
I spun around, nearly tripping on my hem. "Excuse me? 'No'? I am literally stuck in ten thousand dollars of silk, Adrian. Come on. Help me out."
He leaned against the bedpost, his arms folding over his chest. "You spent the entire car ride calling me the Devil and a scoundrel. Now you want the Devil's help with your clothes?"
"You can't continue with this back-and-forth," I groaned, dropping my hands in defeat.
"What back-and-forth?" He asked innocently.
"Don't play dumb. You know exactly what I mean. The kissing, the defending me against your cousins, then the 'cow' comments. Pick a lane, Adrian!"
He didn't say anything for a long moment. Then, slowly, he straightened up and walked toward me. The air in the room seemed to vanish with every step he took.
"Turn around," he commanded.
I obeyed, my heart beating against my ribs. I felt the heat of him before I felt his touch. His fingers, calloused and warm, brushed against the bare skin of my neck as he hunted for the tiny silver pull.
The zipper slid down with a soft, agonizingly slow hiss.
His fingers didn't pull away. They lingered on the small of my back, his thumb tracing the curve of my spine. I shivered, not from the cold, but from the electric current jolting through my marrow.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice sounding thin. "You.….you may go now."
He didn't go.
"Adrian?" I turned slightly, the silk front of the dress held up only by my arms crossed over my chest.
"Technically," he said, his gaze dropping to the column of my throat, "we are married. By law, this is our honeymoon."
The breath hitched in my throat. "What are you saying, Adrian?"
He stepped closer into my space, forcing me back against the vanity. He looked at my lips with a hunger that made my knees go weak. "What do you think I'm saying, Alex?"
"We hate each other. We don't need a honeymoon," I reminded him, though it felt more like I was reminding myself.
"Hmm."
"This is just a contract marriage. Business."
"Hmm."
"Section seven," I gasped, the wood of the vanity pressing into my lower back. "We're both free to have.…marital relations with people outside the contract."
He stopped, his face inches from mine. His hands came up, cupping my jaw, his thumbs smoothing over my cheekbones. The intensity in his eyes was suffocating, and my breathing came out in short bursts.
"Is that what you want?" he rasped. "To be with someone else?"
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. "I... I..."
"You," he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. "You were trying to devour me in front of a crowd at the altar. Trying to use your tongue like that. Do you have any idea what that does to a man?"
I looked at his lips, my vision blurring. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"You misunderstand me, Alex. I never said you should stop."
Oh…
Our lips brushed, a feather-light contact that sent a shockwave through my entire system. Adrian let out a low groan and abruptly pulled himself away, as if the touch had burned him. He reached for his phone on the nightstand, his knuckles white.
He didn't look at me as he scrolled. "Do you remember Sebastian Mikaelson?"
The name hit me like a bucket of ice water. "Sebastian?"
"Yes. Your little high school hero."
Back in the day, Sebastian had been Adrian's only friend who didn't treat me like dirt. He was kind, he was charming, and yes, I'd had a massive, embarrassing crush on him that lasted all of ten months before I was whisked away.
"Yeah, I remember him," I said, trying to steady my voice. "What about him?"
Adrian finally looked at me, and this time, the gray eyes were cold, filled with a sharp, biting jealousy he wasn't quite hiding. "Do you still have your silly little crush on him?"
My heart stuttered. "How did you even know—"
"You were transparent, Alex. Painfully so." He straightened his shirt, his expression turning into a mask of pure venom. "But never mind. He'll be at the gala tonight. One of the primary investors."
"What? What do you mean?"
Adrian walked toward the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. "Perhaps you'll find that he returns your affections now that you're a 'queen' and not a charity case."
He spat the last word out like it was poison and walked away, slamming the door behind him.
I stood there, clutching my half-unzipped dress, staring at the empty doorway.
The Devil…..was jealous?