Chapter 5: His Beautiful Secretary

When I walked into the living room wearing my husband's shirt, Azriel glanced at me, a small smile tugging at his lips, while another woman handed him his coffee.

She stood beside the kitchen island in a fitted cream suit, her dark-blonde hair in a flawless twist, calmly reviewing Azriel's schedule from a tablet. "Your Council meeting has been moved to ten," she said. "I placed Halberg after lunch because you're less likely to threaten him once you've eaten. The press statement will be ready by nine, and our dinner has been rescheduled for eight."

Our dinner.

Azriel accepted the coffee without asking what it contained. "Move Halberg to tomorrow. My wife will attend the Council meeting."

The woman turned. Her blue-gray eyes briefly registered the shirt reaching halfway down my thighs before returning politely to my face. "Luna Maquia." She crossed the room and extended her hand. "Isadora Lennox, Mr. Castellane's executive assistant. Welcome to Nightfall."

"Thank you."

Her handshake was firm. Not unfriendly. Not apologetic for appearing inside my husband's penthouse shortly after sunrise.

Azriel leaned against the island, already dressed in black trousers and a crisp white shirt. "Did you sleep well, wifey?"

I narrowed my eyes in his direction, catching that irritating little smirk on his face. He knew perfectly well that I hadn't.

"Wonderfully, hubby. Your pillows were excellent company." I laced my voice with sweetness, but deep inside, I wanted to slam him down.

Isadora's composure didn't break, but something resembling amusement touched her mouth. She returned to her tablet. "Your usual breakfast will arrive in five minutes. I asked the kitchen to prepare something lighter for our Luna until we learn her preferences."

His coffee was a double espresso with steamed milk and no sweetener. 

She also knew when he forgot to eat and which meetings irritated him. She recited each detail without consulting her tablet. "Mrs. Castellane's access to the penthouse and executive floors is activated," she added.

I glanced at her. "Already?"

"Mr. Castellane dislikes delays."

Azriel drank his coffee with suspicious innocence.

She knew his coffee, his schedule, his moods, and the exact time his breakfast should appear.

I had been Azriel's wife for less than twenty-four hours. So, why did I already hate how naturally another woman appeared to belong beside him?

The private elevator opened before I could examine the feeling. A broad-shouldered man entered wearing a dark suit with no tie. A healing cut marked his lower lip, and the knuckles of his right hand were bruised.

"Morning," he said. "I see the bride survived."

Azriel took a slow drink of coffee. "Maquia, this is Dorian Mercer, my Beta. He confuses disrespect with charm."

"Only because it works," Dorian said, wriggling his eyebrows.

Isadora's attention dropped to his injured hand. Her expression sharpened. "What happened to your knuckles?"

"Good morning to you, too, Dora."

"I told you not to call me that."

"You tell me every morning."

She caught his wrist before he could reach for Azriel's coffee. "Did you start another fight?"

"I ended one."

"Sit down."

Dorian grinned but obeyed. Isadora retrieved a medical kit, placed his preferred breakfast and coffee before him without asking, then began cleaning his knuckles.

"You're hurting me," he complained.

"Good."

"You were worried."

"I was worried about the paperwork your death would create."

He laughed. For one fleeting moment, the perfect executive assistant looked flustered.

I barely noticed. Azriel had moved beside me, close enough for his scent to surround me again. "You're staring," he murmured.

"I'm observing your staff."

"Of course."

Breakfast and Nightfall's communications team arrived, turning the penthouse into a command center for our marriage scandal. While I ate, I opened the morning coverage on my tablet.

One article displayed photographs of Azriel and Isadora attending corporate galas together over the past four years.

'NIGHTFALL'S EXPECTED LUNA REPLACED BY FAIRMONT HEIRESS'

The report called Isadora his longtime companion and claimed Nightfall had expected Azriel to choose her. I enlarged one photograph before realizing Azriel was watching me.

"Reliable journalism?" he asked.

"Apparently, your marriage surprised more people than mine did."

"Isadora attends events because she manages them."

"You don't need to explain." I almost huffed, but had to stop myself.

"You were reading remarkably closely for someone who doesn't need an explanation."

I closed the article. "We have a Council meeting."

An hour later, I entered Nightfall Holdings beside Azriel. Black glass, steel, and digital displays filled the lower levels of Nightfall Tower. Employees lowered their heads as we passed behind Isadora.

Security handed me a platinum access card embossed with MAQUIA CASTELLANE, already programmed with my photograph and clearance.

I ran my thumb over the engraved surname. "Your staff works quickly."

"Nightfall values preparation," Isadora said.

Azriel guided me toward the elevators. "You'll find we're very welcoming."

A tailored jacket also waited inside his office and fit without adjustment. Nightfall was remarkably prepared for an unexpected bride.

Isadora stopped outside Azriel's private office and handed him a charcoal tie. "Not the black one," she said. "You wear that when you intend to refuse every proposal. Councilman Voss will become defensive before you speak."

Azriel accepted it as though this happened every day.

Perhaps it did.

Before he could fasten the tie, I took it from him. "Allow me."

Azriel's brows lifted. I stepped in and slipped the silk under his collar. Isadora remained beside the door, reviewing her tablet, but I knew she could see us.

"My husband should look properly prepared for his first Council meeting as a married man," I said.

Azriel's hands settled lightly at my waist. "How considerate of you, wifey."

I tightened the knot and smoothed it against his shirt. "Try not to threaten anyone before lunch."

His olive eyes glinted. "Is that an order?"

"Advice from your wife."

Behind us, Dorian leaned toward Isadora. "Should we leave them alone?"

"We should leave you somewhere without access to sharp objects," she replied, but the color rising along her neck betrayed her composure when his shoulder brushed hers.

Azriel let me lead the Council discussion on Silverpine's territorial access. I corrected three representatives who assumed Nightfall now owned Fairmont assets.

Twenty minutes later, Isadora brought an updated report. She bent near Azriel's ear while placing it beside his hand.

I lost my place mid-sentence. "Hold still," I told him.

Every gaze turned toward us as I brushed an invisible thread from his lapel and smoothed his collar against his throat.

"There." I returned to my seat. "Much better."

Azriel's olive eyes glimmered. He knew perfectly well there had been nothing on his shirt.

Isadora continued without reacting. "Mr. Castellane, Halberg approved the revised projection. He only needs your signature."

"Leave it with my husband." I took the folder and set it beneath Azriel's hand. "I'll make sure he reviews it."

One of Isadora's brows lifted. "Of course, Luna." Then, she inclined her head. She retreated beside Dorian. 

He leaned toward her and whispered something that made her drive an elbow discreetly into his side.

Councilman Voss disguised a territorial demand as protection. I dismantled it and proposed equal commercial passage while keeping Silverpine under my authority.

During a brief recess, Isadora returned to exchange Azriel's cold coffee. I intercepted the fresh cup. "He's had enough caffeine." I replaced it with a glass of water. "Drink this, hubby."

"Have I become difficult?" he asked.

"You were difficult before the coffee."

The corner of his mouth lifted, but he drank the water.

By the time Voss accepted my terms, Azriel looked unbearably pleased. "My wife's proposal is generous," he said. "Accept it before she becomes less patient." His confidence in me shouldn't have felt intimate. 

Somehow, it did.

Once the final representative departed, Azriel closed the office door. "You were jealous."

I gathered the documents from the table. "I was making our marriage convincing."

"My secretary already knows we're married."

"Then, take it as additional confirmation."

He moved behind me. "You read an entire article about her."

"It appeared in my news feed."

"You enlarged the photographs."

"That proves nothing."

"You found imaginary lint on my lapel, adjusted a collar that wasn't crooked, intercepted a report, and confiscated my coffee."

"Your collar was crooked."

"You straightened it before the meeting."

I turned. "Do you monitor everything I do?" I asked, almost frowning.

"Only the interesting things."

"Your ego is astonishing."

"And your jealousy is becoming entertaining."

I left his office before he could see how accurately the accusation had landed.

That evening, my luggage had been unpacked inside the penthouse wardrobe. I showered, changed into a burgundy satin nightdress, and rebuilt the pillow wall with considerably more force than necessary.

Azriel emerged from the bathroom wearing a black T-shirt and lounge pants. He looked at the pillows, then at me. "What did they do to deserve that?"

"Perhaps, you should have married your secretary."

The amusement disappeared from his face. "Is that what this is about?"

"Everyone already believed she would become your Luna." And I was just an outsider who proposed to the Alpha of the Nightfall Pack, I wanted to add.

"Everyone was wrong."

I glared at him as if he had grown another head. "She knows your schedule, your moods, your meals, and which tie you wear when you plan to be difficult."

"That is her job."

"She was inside your home at sunrise discussing your dinner."

Azriel approached the bed. "A dinner with two Council investors, Dorian, and me."

I hated the small relief that loosened my chest. "It makes no difference."

"Then, why are you interrogating me?"

"I'm not."

"Wifey, you practically marked me with a necktie in front of her."

Warmth flushed across my cheeks. "Perhaps, she would suit you better."

Azriel stopped on the opposite side of the pillow barrier. "If I wanted Isadora, she would be wearing my ring." His gaze dropped deliberately to the black diamond on my hand.

"I'm wearing it because I offered you an alliance." I snorted before fixing the pillow barrier again.

"Is that what you believe?"

"The kiss you stole after we signed the covenant certainly proved nothing."

Something shifted in his expression. "Would you like me to prove it again?"

My heartbeat stumbled, but I lifted my chin. "I don't think you can."

Azriel moved around the pillows and stopped directly in front of me. He didn't touch me. He just simply waited.

The decision remained mine, just as he had promised last night. And his restraint irritated me more than arrogance would have.

I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down. My mouth met his first.

Azriel's control broke. His hands closed around my waist, and he sat on the edge of the bed, lifting me with him until I straddled his lap. The pillow wall collapsed under my knees.

His mouth returned to mine with enough hunger to steal the breath from my lungs. I buried my fingers in his hair as his arm tightened around my waist, holding me firmly against the heat of his body.

Every shift of his mouth demanded an answer. The jealousy I had denied burned hotter as I pressed closer. His fingers flexed possessively at my waist before one hand slid up my spine. A rough sound left him when I tugged his hair, making me kiss him harder.

This kiss contained none of the calculated restraint he had shown inside his office. It was demanding, heated, and frighteningly honest.

His hand traveled up my back as one thin strap of my nightdress slipped from my shoulder.

Azriel's fingers caught it. For one suspended moment, his hand tightened around the satin as though he intended to pull it farther. His breathing had become rough, and the hunger in his olive eyes made my entire body tense with anticipation.

Then, he stopped.

Slowly, he lifted the strap and returned it to my shoulder. The gentleness of the gesture affected me more than if he had continued.

Azriel rested his forehead against mine. His hands remained at my waist, but the pressure had changed. He was holding me still rather than pulling me closer. "Tell me that was only for appearances," he murmured against my lips.

I couldn't. No words came out of my mouth. 

His olive eyes darkened when he saw my reaction. "Then, the next time you provoke me, wifey, I won't stop at a kiss. Do you understand?"