Chapter 3

Her eyebrows arched slightly, as if the question was amusing her. "No, ma'am. Mr. Sebastian has his own room."

Relief and shame hit me at the same time. He was my husband, we were supposed to share a room but I didn't mind. Actually, I was happy we weren't doing that.

"Thank you," I whispered.

She nodded and left, closing the doors behind her. Trembling from so many emotions, I finally allowed myself to sink onto the bed. My hands were shaking as I clutched my phone.

I had one missed call from Dr. Patel and a message from Oliver.

Ollie: Did you get the money?

I swallowed hard before answering.

Me: Yes. The procedure is scheduled.

His response was swift.

Ollie: Val… What did you do?

I stared at the screen, fingers ready to fly on the keyboard.

How would I explain to him that I was married to a man who considered me nothing but a contract?

Me: I did what I had to do.

I threw my phone aside before he could say anything, hiding my face in my hands.

One year. One year of being Valentine Sebastian.

I could live with that. I had to.

………

I wasn't ready to see Adrian again, but when Margaret said dinner was ready, I had no choice.

The dining room was ridiculously spacious. A gigantic chandelier was suspended from the ceiling, its golden light bathing the expansive mahogany table. Silverware sparkled in the light, and rows of dishes I couldn't even identify were precisely set.

Adrian already occupied his place at the far end of the table, drinking a glass of wine as if this was an evening like any other.

I just stood in the doorway.

"Are you going to remain there the whole night?" he asked without looking up.

I bit my tongue and walked to the table sitting down across from him.

The moment I picked up my napkin, there were footsteps in the hallway. And then, just as I feared, Adrian's family appeared.

A dark-haired, graying woman strode into the room first. She was tall, poised, and elegant. The type of woman who never had a problem in her life.

Behind her came a man who resembled Adrian too much, except older and a great deal less happy to see me.

And last, a younger woman appeared, her green eyes flashing with curiosity.

Adrian sighed. "Mother. Father. Evelyn."

His mother's gaze landed on me, measuring, weighing. "So," she said, cocking her head. "This is your wife."

The ferocity of her stare chilled me to the bone.

"Yes," Adrian replied calmly, twirling his wine.

His father, Charles Sebastian, snorted. "I hope this isn't one of your reckless decisions, Adrian. The reputation of the family is paramount."

I kept my bunched fists under the table.

"Trust me," Adrian replied coldly. "I am perfectly aware."

His mother's mouth curled into something less than a smile. "And just where did you find her?"

Adrian's eyes focused on me, daring me to answer.

I stuck out my chin. "Oxford," I said. "I'm a student there."

His sister, Evelyn, raised an eyebrow. "And yet, you married my brother. How unexpected."

Her voice dripped with suspicion, but I didn't allow it to intimidate me. Adrian leaned back in his chair, undaunted. "You'll all get used to it."

His mother's face darkened. "We'll see about that."

The rest of the night was spent answering sets if questions and getting to know one another as Adrian just sat there munching quietly. They had loosen up half way through the conversation it it felt a lot better.

His mum thought I was intelligent and cute and Evelyn just just happy to have a sister.

I wasn't sure if I was ready to be a part of this family but I was sure they would make things easier for me.

……….

Breakfast wasn't as tensed as the dinner last night. I sat at the white, streamlined breakfast table, a fake in my own life. The sun pouring through the large windows gave the immaculate white tablecloth a golden sheen. Before me, a table of expensive breakfast items had been laid out. croissants, fruit, eggs, smoked salmon, and other things I couldn't even name. But nothing sat well with me.

Across from me, Adrian sat in his usual place, his back straight, a cup of black coffee in front of him as he scrolled through his phone. He looked perfectly at ease, like this was just another normal morning for him.

It wasn't for me. I was used to waking up in a tiny apartment, putting on a big hoodie, and having a quick cup of instant coffee before dashing to class or work. Not this. Not servants waiting on me, not eating in a dining hall so huge that my entire childhood home could be contained within it.

"Eat," Adrian said, not even looking up from his phone.

I clenched my fists in my lap. "I'm not hungry."

"You have to get used to the schedule," he told me. "Skipping meals won't hurt anyone but yourself."

I wanted to argue, to tell him that my hunger had disappeared the moment I signed that son of a gun contract, but I remained silent. There was no point and he was right.

So, I grabbed a fork, took a small bite of the omelet on my plate and swallowed it down.

Adrian finally set down his phone, watching me with an analytical expression. "I have meetings all day," he announced. "Margaret will take you shopping."

I blinked. "Shopping?"

"For clothes," he said as if I was supposed to understand. "You need to dress the part."

I heaved trying to control my emotions. I resented the tone he used to speak. As if I were a doll he needed to dress up to fit into his world.

"I don't need anything."

His lips curled infinitesimally. "You don't think you can just walk around in Oxford sweaters and jeans and be my wife right?"

My jaw locked. "I didn't marry you for a makeover, Adrian."

"No, you married me for money," he said smoothly, taking a sip of coffee. "But because you're my wife, you'll dress the part."

My face flushed with rage as this battle of ours raged on. But I kept my cool on the outside.

"Fine," I snarled through clenched teeth. "I'll shop."

Adrian smiled, clearly thrilled that he had won this battle. I hated him.