Derek's POV
I couldn't believe what had just transpired between us. And the funniest — or maybe the most confusing — part was that she had pulled me in. The memory refused to leave me alone, looping over and over in my head like an annoying song I couldn't turn off.
The entire journey to the safe house had been deathly quiet. The grand old building stood silent under the fading orange glow of sunset, its stone walls covered in ivy and its windows dark like watchful eyes. We entered the house without a sound, the heavy wooden door creaking softly behind us.
I sat quietly on the edge of an old couch in the dimly lit sitting room, staring at the floorboards. But soon I lost all patience. The silence had become too loud, too heavy.
What had happened in the car? Why did she—
I stopped myself mid-thought. No. I wasn't going to push the issue. Because she refused to apologize. And not because it had been intentional — but because, as she had snapped earlier with that stubborn lift of her chin, "you can't change the past, and most importantly… we're married." Her words still hung in the air between us like a challenge she had thrown down and dared me to pick up.
And yet again she surprised me. Her pride was what was making her say all of this, I could see it in the way her eyes flashed with defiance and her shoulders stayed squared. But I refused to react rashly. A smug smile slowly appeared on my face. Before she could fire back another sharp remark, I leaned in close enough to catch the faint scent of her hair, planted a quick, teasing kiss on her cheek, and ran away laughing.
Lo and behold, almighty Tatiana chased after me with a broom raised high like a warrior's sword! It was the same girl who had declared us married the moment we stepped inside — now swinging that broom with full force through the narrow hallway, shouting about how I had no right to play games with her. I dodged left and right, weaving around furniture and laughing so hard my sides hurt, while she kept coming, determined and furious, her footsteps pounding behind me. "Get back here!" she yelled, but there was a hint of laughter in her voice too, even if she tried to hide it. We must have looked ridiculous — a supposed dead prince and his reluctant bride turning a quiet mansion into a battlefield of broom swings and playful shouts. Eventually I let her catch me just enough to feel a few solid whacks on my back and arms.
I eventually went to bed with severe body pains from all the broom whacks. Don't think I'm weak — I just didn't want to touch a woman in any way that could be misunderstood. 😊 The aches throbbed as I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, wondering how everything had spiraled into this strange mix of danger and… whatever this feeling was between us.
Very early the next morning, while the sky was still a soft pink and the birds were just beginning to sing, I gathered my tools and slipped out for the appointment with the Queen — the one only I could secure. Tatiana kept her distance the entire morning, moving around the house like a shadow, for reasons only females will understand. Tick… tick… tock. The old grandfather clock in the hallway kept ticking loudly, marking every second of the growing tension. I left without saying much, the weight of what we were planning pressing on my shoulders.
I discussed business with the Queen at length in her private chambers. She seemed quite delighted with the plan, her eyes sparkling with sharp interest as we went over every detail — the contracts, the doubts we needed to plant in the governments, the careful timing of it all. She leaned forward, tapping her fingers on the polished table, and for a moment I saw the same fire I had seen in Tatiana. When the meeting finally ended, I bowed slightly and said with genuine gratitude, "Thank you so much, my Queen. I look forward to working with you."
I got home exhausted but relieved, the weight of the day finally lifting from my shoulders like a heavy coat I could shrug off. The mansion felt quieter now, the late afternoon light filtering through the tall windows and painting everything in warm gold. I pushed open the bedroom door and stepped inside, only to stop dead in my tracks. My mouth fell wide open and my eyes refused to blink.
There stood Tatiana — completely naked, fresh from the bath, water droplets still glistening on her skin like tiny diamonds under the soft bedroom light. Steam curled lazily from the open bathroom door behind her, carrying the faint scent of soap and lavender.
"What are you doing in my room naked like you just finished bathing in my room?!" I blurted out, voice cracking with shock and something else I didn't want to name.
She quickly snatched the duvet from the bed and covered herself, rolling her eyes dramatically. "You left me that forsaken room while you were sleeping in here. Not possible."
I pointed toward the door as I playfully tugged on the edge of the duvet, my heart beating faster than it had any right to. "Out."
"You wouldn't dare," she warned, clutching the fabric tighter, but the words only earned her a mischievous grin from me.
I pulled the duvet a little harder, teasing her, watching the way her cheeks flushed. Finally, I heard her soft voice crack with a hint of vulnerability. "Please… can I stay here for the night?"
I could have said no. I should have said no. But I had no courage left for that tonight. "Fine," I sighed, trying to sound reluctant even as a smile tugged at my lips. "Only if you put on decent clothes."
Her face turned a deep shade of red, spreading all the way to her ears, and I couldn't hold it in any longer — I let out a serious, genuine laugh that echoed through the room and seemed to chase away some of the shadows that had been hanging over us. For the first time in what felt like forever, the tension between us felt lighter, almost warm, like the first crack of sunlight after a long storm.
We were married, whether we had planned it or not. And standing there in that bedroom, watching her blush while clutching the duvet like a shield, I realized something dangerous: I wasn't entirely unhappy about it. In fact, a small, traitorous part of me was starting to like this strange, chaotic life we had been thrown into together.