First Cracks

Adrian’s POV

I stood in the center of her room, staring at the closed bathroom door.

I’m not a fool. I know what a woman’s cry sounds like, and what I’d heard through these walls from my own bedroom wasn’t just gentle tears or whatever. If she was crying softly, I wouldn't even hear her voice.

She was really, really crying. I won't forget in a hurry the look on her face when she opened the door.

Her carefully made up face had been a total mess, and all kinds of emotions were displayed on her face. They told me she was sad, hurt, and broken.

Something is clearly not adding up. I know this is an arranged marriage but Victoria wouldn't feel this hurt getting married to me, would she?

And then the second she saw me, she tried to cover it up with that arrogance she was always showing me.

‘Something got caught in my eye’—right. Maybe a tornado happened in this room. She keeps underestimating my intelligence.

I walked over to the table by the bed and sat down.

I didn't want to care. I really didn't. This marriage was supposed to be a transaction, just three years and a clean split at the end.

But seeing her so broken made me feel strangely uncomfortable.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Room service wheeled in the mountain of food I’d ordered. “Here's your order, Sir.”

“Arrange the food outside on the table in the balcony.”

“Yes Sir.”

They worked quickly and left.

Through the balcony, I could see the Eiffel Tower glowing brightly in the dark sky. Whoever picked this room for our honeymoon made a great choice.

We could have easily eaten in the room, but if anything could calm her down, maybe eating on a decorated table in the balcony, with the Eiffel Tower glowing in the background would.

The bathroom door opened, and I turned around. The words I was about to say died in my throat. She had washed her face completely. Without the heavy layers of makeup she wore for the wedding, she looked... different.

Her skin was soft and fresh, her cheeks were a light pink shade, and her eyes, her eyes that never ceases to amaze me, were literally glowing. She looked way younger, and vulnerable, and undeniably beautiful. Her beauty caught me entirely off guard.

I quickly masked my expression before she could notice.

“The food is here,” I said, keeping my voice neutral.

She walked out still in her bathrobe, drying her wet hair with a towel. She looked around, confused. “Where?”

I nodded toward the open glass doors.

She stepped onto the balcony, and I watched her carefully. The second her eyes landed on the table—I made sure the waitress had arranged it with small scented candles on top, golden utensils and flowers—she stopped.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her lips parted, and a small quiet gasp escaped her rosy lips.

For one tiny second, her guarded mask fell away completely, and I saw genuine wonder on her face. A small wave of satisfaction washed over me.

I pulled out a chair for her. “Sit,” I said softly. “You need to eat.”

For once, Victoria didn't argue with me. She sat down carefully still staring at the table, her blue eyes shining in wonder.

I took the seat opposite her and uncovered the plates. There was warm soup, roasted pork meat, fruits and pastries for dessert.

She hesitated for a split second, then grabbed her fork. But instead of holding it the right way, she held it awkwardly in a way I've never seen anyone hold a fork before, then scraped her plate as she dug in like a starving person.

I paused, holding my wine glass halfway to my mouth.

I know she was raised in one of the wealthiest families of New York city before her father's business went bankrupt. Her family was famous for hosting galas and small lunch meetings where proper dining etiquette was so common and practiced by everyone.

Yet, the woman in front of me was shoving down her food without a care in the world, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before catching herself and quickly reaching for the napkin.

“This is so good,” she mumbled under her breath with food in her mouth. She sounded like she was tasting good food for the first time in ages.

My eyes narrowed slightly. “You're eating with food in your mouth.”

She stiffened, her fork freezing in the air. The warmness in her eyes instantly vanished, replaced by that familiar, cautious look.

“It was a slip,” she said defensively, making sure to finish the food in her mouth before speaking. “Or is there a rule against enjoying good food in your precious little rulebook?”

“No,” I said smoothly, cutting a small piece of meat on my own plate. “I just didn't expect the pampered heiress of The Hale Group to eat like that or…hold her fork like a shovel.”

She paled again, her green eyes widening in shock. But she recovered quickly, holding her fork the proper way.

“It’s been a long day, Adrian,” she said sharply, setting her fork down gently. “Excuse me if my eating manners aren't up to your high standards tonight.”

She was deflecting. I could see the shift in her posture, and her face wearing that boring expressionless look she wore at the wedding. I didn't like it. I prefer when I could tell what she was feeling just by looking at her face and her eyes.

“Can you stop staring at me and let me finish the food you insisted on me eating?” She picked up her glass of water, taking a quick sip to avoid my eyes.

“Right.” I decided not to push her, not tonight. I had three years to figure out whatever this was. “Finish your food. You need to sleep.”

“Trust me, I can't wait to get away from you,” she muttered, keeping her eating more controlled now, taking small bites and chewing softly. More like Victoria Hale would.

We finished the rest of the meal in a tense, heavy silence. When she finally set her napkin down, I stood up from the table.

“I’m going to my room,” I said, straightening my clothes.

She looked up at me, clearly relieved that I was finally leaving. “Goodnight, Mr Adrian Kingsley.”

I walked toward the balcony doors, but stopped and turned back to look at her. She was sitting there in that bathrobe, looking small, but still holding her head up high.

“Oh, by the way,” I said, my voice dropping into a serious, professional tone.

She frowned. “What?”

“Set an alarm,” I told her, holding her gaze. “My PR team arranged an outing for us tomorrow morning. There’ll be paparazzi, journalists, the whole package. We have to maintain our image as a newlywed happy couple on their honeymoon.”

Her face went pale.

“Get a good night’s sleep, Victoria,” I added, giving her a fake smile. “Because tomorrow, you'll have to play the loving wife. And you better play the part well.”