Chapter 3 Proposal

She stirred.

Pain greeted her instantly—deep, lingering, and impossible to ignore. It clung to every inch of her body, settling into her muscles like a reminder she couldn’t escape.

She felt… used. Worn.

Her eyelids fluttered weakly, but they were far too heavy to lift. With a faint groan, she gave up, letting herself sink back into sleep.

—

The second time she woke, it came slower. More aware.

She drew in a deep breath… then another, trying to steady herself as fragments of the previous night surfaced in her mind.

Disjointed. Blurred. But enough.

Her body throbbed as she shifted, and a sharp ache pulled a quiet groan from her lips. Instinctively, she buried her face into the pillow—only to wince at the discomfort that followed.

“What have you done, Lexie…” she muttered hoarsely.

She stayed still, staring into nothing, trying to piece everything together—but the memories refused to come clearly. Only flashes remained. Sensations. A voice. Eyes.

His eyes.

“You slept the whole day away.” The deep voice cut cleanly through her thoughts.

Her body stilled. Slowly, she lifted her head and turned toward the sound.

And there he was. The same man. Those same piercing eyes that had unsettled her the night before.

Silence filled the room as they looked at each other. Her mind went blank, completely stripped of words.

“If you’re hungry,” he said casually, as if nothing unusual had happened, “there’s food.”

She blinked.

He was already dressed—crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, black trousers, polished shoes. Composed. Untouched.

While she…She pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

“Ahm… what time is it?” she asked, her voice rough and dry.

He glanced at his watch. “Seven in the evening.”

Her eyes widened slightly. Evening? A groan escaped her. She really had slept the entire day away.

She stared at the ceiling, thoughts crashing into one another.

What now?

Go home. The answer came quickly—but her body didn’t agree.

With a quiet sigh, she turned her head toward the bathroom, gauging the distance. It felt farther than it should.

Still, she forced herself to move.

Sitting up alone felt like a battle. Every motion was slow, careful—her body protesting at every shift. The aftermath of last night lingered heavily, making even the simplest movement difficult.

Ignoring his presence, she dragged herself toward the bathroom.

—

The hot water poured over her like relief.

Steam filled the glass cubicle, fogging the space, but she barely noticed. She stood beneath the spray, unmoving, letting the warmth ease what it could.

Her thoughts, however, refused to settle.

She had always been careful. Responsible. Last night… she wasn’t.

“What’s done is done…” she whispered, her gaze unfocused against the tiled wall.

A breath escaped her.

“Just forget it. Move on.”

Coby was gone. And whatever happened last night—That would stay in the past.

She didn’t have the luxury to dwell. She still had a goal. Ten million to raise. A future to reclaim.

“At least…” she scoffed softly, shaking her head, “you experienced it.”

There was no turning back time. And truthfully… she didn’t want to.

Despite everything, a part of her couldn’t deny it—she had felt something she never had before.

—

When she stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a robe, he was still there.

Exactly where she had left him. Watching.

Their eyes met briefly before she looked away, her gaze landing on her clothes neatly arranged on a chair.

Her breath caught. Her dress. Her lingerie. Carefully placed. A faint heat crept up her cheeks. He did that.

She swallowed, walking over slowly. There was a pause before she reached for them.

“I’ve already seen everything,” he said evenly. “Why hesitate now?”

She froze mid-step. Her grip tightened around the fabric. He wasn’t wrong. There was nothing left to hide from him.

And yet… this felt different. More exposed. Still, she moved.

She walked back to the bed, placing her clothes down before dressing—slowly, deliberately. She kept her movements steady, ignoring the weight of his gaze as she put herself back together piece by piece.

If there was embarrassment, she refused to show it. Even if she could still feel his eyes on her.

“Eat.”

The single word pulled her out of her thoughts.

She turned toward him, following his gaze to the table. Food had already been laid out—neatly arranged, untouched. And as if on cue, her stomach growled loudly in the quiet room.

Right. She hadn’t eaten all day.

Without another word, she walked over and took the seat across from him. The silence between them stretched again, but this time, she didn’t care. The moment she picked up her fork, whatever restraint she had left vanished.

Hungry was an understatement. She was starving.

She ate quickly at first, then slower, savoring each bite as her body finally caught up with its needs. Still, she didn’t speak. Didn’t look up.

But she could feel it. His gaze. Steady. Unblinking. Watching her.

By the time she finished, the plate was empty. She set her utensils down, suddenly aware again of the silence pressing in around them.

“Thank you for the food,” she said, her voice quieter now.

A beat passed.

“And last night?” he asked, his tone even, almost casual. “No thanks for that?”

Her fingers stilled. Slowly, she looked up at him, trying to read his expression.

Was he serious? She couldn’t tell.

Her brows knitted slightly as uncertainty crept in. Was that something she was supposed to do? Thank him? Evaluate him?

Her face warmed at the thought.

“…Ahm… well… thank you,” she mumbled, her gaze dropping back to the table.

The words felt awkward on her tongue—foreign, almost.

“You’re welcome.”

Her head snapped up. Just in time to catch the faint curve of his lips. A smirk.

For a moment, she simply stared at him—then her jaw tightened.

Her eyes sharpened as she met his gaze, refusing to look away this time. There was amusement there, unmistakable. He was enjoying this.

Enjoying her reaction.

She held his gaze, stubborn, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of backing down.

The air between them shifted—charged, quiet, almost like a silent challenge.

Then—

“Alright,” he said at last, leaning back slightly.

“Let’s get down to business.”

Her brows furrowed. Business?

A flicker of confusion crossed her face before something else replaced it—realization. Her spine straightened slightly.

“Do I need to pay you?” she asked bluntly.

“How much?”

The change in him was immediate. The faint amusement vanished. What replaced it was colder. Sharper.

His eyes narrowed slightly as they locked onto hers.

“Can you afford me?” he asked, a trace of mockery lacing his voice.

Her irritation flared.

“Just tell me the amount,” she shot back, chin lifting a fraction. She wasn’t backing down—not now.

He studied her for a second longer before answering.

“Five hundred billion dollars.”

She blinked.

“What?”

“My net worth,” he clarified, tone effortless.

“More or less.”

Silence.

Her mind stalled. Then—It clicked. Her eyes widened as realization hit her full force.

“That’s why you look familiar…” she muttered, dragging a hand down her face in disbelief.

Of all people. Of all the men in that restaurant—

Him.

“CEO Lucien Wright…” she whispered, the name barely leaving her lips.

The richest man in the country. A business tycoon she had only ever seen on screens and headlines.

And she—She approached him like that. She let out a quiet, frustrated groan, pressing her fingers against her forehead.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Lexie…” she muttered under her breath.

Out of everyone. Anyone else. Her thoughts spiraled, tumbling over each other.

'You could’ve stopped Coby. You could’ve fixed things. You could’ve just given him what he wanted—'

Her jaw clenched.

“It’s just—”

“What did I tell you?” His voice cut through sharply.

She flinched, her head snapping up. His expression had darkened—completely stripped of humor now.

“I don’t want to hear another man’s name,” he said coldly, each word precise.

Her confusion deepened. She stared at him, trying to understand—And then her eyes widened.

Did she… say that out loud? Heat rushed to her face, but it wasn’t embarrassment this time—it was confusion.

“…Pardon me,” she said slowly.

“I didn’t mean for that to be heard.” Her tone held more uncertainty than apology.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he turned slightly, reaching for something beside him. A single sheet of paper.

He placed it in front of her. Casually.

Her brows furrowed as she picked it up, her eyes scanning the heading—

Then she froze. Slowly, she looked up at him.

“I need a wife,” he said, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

“Name your price.”

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