Ch6 - Question my charm?! 

Grace’s thick hair cascaded down her back, the soft waves adding a hint of gentleness to her overall look. But beneath that, her delicate face remained frozen—her pupils slightly constricted, lips slightly parted.

An unmistakable trace of awkwardness lingered in the air.

Raphael’s expression remained composed as his gaze dropped to the two suitcases.

"The housekeeper just told me they sent my luggage here. Would it be alright if I take them now?"

His voice was steady, polite—a little too polite.

Grace snapped out of her daze, inwardly cursing herself for the momentary lapse in expression management.

"This is your home too. You don’t have to ask me."

The second the words left her lips, she realized how contradictory they sounded.

The massive walk-in closet was overflowing with her things—luxury handbags, designer heels, racks of couture. Not a trace of a man's presence anywhere. Not even a single empty space to suggest otherwise.

She felt a tiny pang of guilt, but outwardly, she maintained an air of nonchalance, casually gesturing toward a section of the wardrobe.

"You can put your things over there."

That space had just been cleared out for seasonal rotation—coincidentally, it was now coming in handy.

Raphael didn’t acknowledge the faint crease in her brows. Still standing by the doorway, he didn’t move.

"If it’s inconvenient for you, I can stay somewhere else for a few days."

Grace could almost laugh at how ridiculously courteous he was—so much so that if she so much as hinted at it, he’d probably walk right out the door and never set foot back in this apartment.

But she wasn’t that unreasonable. She might be occupying his house, but there was no way she’d just kick him out.

More importantly, if he really did leave, her father would have her phone blowing up within minutes, scolding her for being a terrible wife. And her so-called friends? They’d have a field day, gossiping about how her husband had barely lasted half a day before running off.

She couldn’t let that happen.

The first floor of the penthouse was fully occupied—living room, dining area, gym, bar, and staff quarters for the housekeeper and maids.

Which meant that, realistically, there was only one option.

The master bedroom.

Unless they immediately moved to a bigger place—which she wasn’t about to deal with right now.

Just thinking about it gave her a headache.

She exhaled slowly, then tossed out a simple—"Just stay. I don’t mind."

"Alright." Raphael responded smoothly, their gazes locking for a moment.

For some reason, it felt... strangely intimate.

Intimate?

The word caught Grace so off guard she nearly startled herself.

Without another word, she averted her eyes and quickly turned toward the bathroom, walking away a little too fast.

She’d deal with the rest later.

—

An hour later, after a long, indulgent bath, Grace finally emerged from the bathroom feeling refreshed.

Moving at an unhurried pace, she walked into her walk-in closet, wrapped in a thick bath towel, casually scanning for something to wear.

She slipped into a silky nightgown, then layered over it with a floor-length robe—light and flowing, yet modest enough.

Grace peeked her head out of the bedroom—no sign of anyone. The bed remained untouched, the sheets still perfectly in place. She didn’t care where he had gone. 

Grabbing her phone, she lazily settled into the lounge chair. The auction from earlier was already a hot topic.

No one dared take photos—if they did, security would’ve made them delete them on the spot. Raphael had always preferred staying out of the public eye. But that didn’t stop people from speculating about the Sterling heir.

Some claimed Raphael had proven himself as the rightful successor through his successful expansion into Australia.

Others speculated that a rival had emerged from within the Sterling family, threatening his position—forcing him to return abruptly to secure his claim. After all, his father, Joseph Sterling, had been in declining health for years, and tensions within the company were quietly bubbling beneath the surface.

The rumors were ridiculously detailed, but Grace couldn’t be bothered.

She let out a small scoff.

They were all clueless. The so-called threat—Raphael’s cousin, Gavin Sinclair—had zero interest in the Sterling family empire.

Exiting the group chat, Grace tapped into her messages with Clara, unable to ignore the stack of unread texts lighting up her screen.

Clara, after finishing their earlier business talk, had naturally moved on to personal matters.

"Grace, did your husband come back just to celebrate your anniversary?"

Of all the theories floating around, Grace thought this one was the most ridiculous.

She resisted the urge to roast her friend and scrolled further.

"Are you two sleeping together tonight?"

"Ugh, so jealous. You’ve got a tall, hot husband."

"Tell me, is he all serious and restrained in public, but a total beast behind closed doors?"

Grace’s face instantly heated up.

She knew Clara wouldn’t say anything decent, but since she had been MIA for over an hour soaking in the tub, Clara had clearly assumed she and Raphael had been… busy.

The next message sent her blood pressure soaring—

"Damn, you guys really got straight to it the moment you got home, huh? I’ll leave you to it then."

The message even came with two drooling emojis at the end.

That was half an hour ago.

A vein throbbed at Grace’s temple. She rushed to shut down Clara’s wild imagination.

"No."

The reply came immediately.

"WTF. Your man finished that fast???"

"He didn’t." Grace felt utterly speechless.

Clara’s reaction was even worse.

"Wait… You’re telling me he hasn’t touched you at all?! Not even with a wife as gorgeous as you?! That’s it. He’s gotta be into men."

The typing speed was blazing fast—practically turbocharged.

Grace pouted—not because Clara had declared her husband doomed, but—

"Excuse you! How dare you question my charm?! I was just taking a bath, nothing happened yet!"

"Ohh…" Clara sent a suspicious emoji. "So… are you ready?"

Grace’s gaze drifted toward the enormous bed.

Tonight, she’d be sharing it with her unfamiliar husband.

This would be their first night sleeping together.

Back when Raphael had briefly stayed in this apartment before leaving for Australia, she hadn’t yet converted the guest rooms into her wardrobe paradise—they had slept separately then.

A tingling sensation spread through her chest.

They were both adults. They were legally married. If something did happen…

Her fingers curled slightly.

Would that really be so bad?

After all, Raphael’s physique was objectively excellent. She wouldn’t exactly be losing out.

Even beneath those neatly buttoned shirts, the sheer power of his frame was impossible to ignore.

Her heartbeat skipped.

Then—suddenly—she remembered protection.

Her husband had been gone for two years, so she obviously hadn’t needed any, but there was a chance that during their honeymoon phase, the housekeeper might have stocked up just in case.

She rummaged through the nightstand drawer. Sure enough, at the very bottom, there was a brand-new, unopened box.

…But after sitting there for two years, were they still within the expiration date?

Half-lying on the bed, bathed in the dim glow of the bedside lamps, Grace squinted at the tiny printed numbers on the box.

Then—

Knock, knock.

Two firm knocks sounded at the door.

Before her brain fully processed what was happening—

The door opened.

Her fingers twitched.

The box slipped from her hands—

And landed with a loud thud on the floor.

Her entire body froze.

Her mind short-circuited.

Heart pounding, she slowly lifted her head—

And locked eyes with Raphael.

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.