I followed my family's arrangements and married a serious, stoic man. On our wedding night, I suggested we sleep in separate rooms. Julian Thorne unbuttoned his dress shirt right in front of me, his eyes dark and unreadable. "But," he said, his voice dropping an octave, "I have needs." 1 My marriage to Julian Thorne was a merger, plain and simple. Profit over passion. No feelings involved. He was my brother's friend, groomed from childhood to take over his family's empire—serious, reserved, noble, and polite, yet entirely distant. When I heard he had agreed to this marriage at the dinner table, I froze. But then I thought about it. I had to marry someone for the alliance eventually. Since the candidate was Julian, I decided not to be picky. The wedding had just ended. He was slightly intoxicated. He got into the car, closed his eyes, and didn't say a word. I was exhausted from the day, but the realization of what might happen tonight suddenly jolted me awake. The fifteen-minute ride to the penthouse felt excruciatingly long; my breathing grew shallow and tense. He’s drunk, so he probably can’t do anything, right? I called his name softly. No reaction. He must be heavily intoxicated. The stone in my chest finally dropped. The car stopped. The man spoke, his voice raspy. "We're here." "You're awake?" He nodded, grabbing my designer purse—which held all the red envelopes and cash gifts—and opened the door. "I can carry it." He refused directly, his tone flat. "No need. It's heavy." In the elevator, it was just the two of us, standing one in front of the other. Silence. The atmosphere was thick with awkwardness. Watching the numbers tick upward, I broke the silence. "Are you drunk? Should I make you some hangover tea?" "No need. I'm not drunk. I still have business to attend to tonight." Understanding the implication in his words, my cheeks flushed. I frantically tried to mentally prepare myself. The elevator stopped. We entered the penthouse, changed into slippers, and I pushed open the bedroom door. I paused. Champagne roses were scattered across the floor, and subtle, elegant red décor marked the occasion. Julian appeared behind me, his voice cool. "It's been a long day. Rest early." "Do you want to shower first?" "I have some things to finish. You go ahead." Julian went to his study to work. So that was the "business" he meant. I breathed a sigh of relief. I found a relatively conservative set of silk pajamas in the closet. After showering, I tied my hair into a messy bun. My skin was flushed from the steam. I spent an hour and a half applying skincare, stalling. When I finally emerged, Julian was done. He was looking down, unfastening his watch and placing his tie on the table. "...Maybe we should sleep in separate rooms." Julian frowned. He was silent for a moment before slowly asking, "Why?" "We... aren't exactly close." "We have a marriage certificate. It's legal. You need to adapt to being Mrs. Thorne." He paused, his fingers moving to his shirt buttons. "Also, I have needs." My ears instantly burned. I looked at him in shock. I didn't expect him to be so blunt. His eyes darkened, but he softened his tone. "But if you aren't willing, I respect your choice. We can let nature take its course." It had to happen sooner or later. I bit my lip. "Fine. No separate rooms." The sound of running water came from the bathroom. A subtle, strange feeling crept into my heart, and my pulse quickened. I patted my chest. Calm down, Chloe. Calm down. It’s just basic biology. Ten minutes later, the water stopped. Julian walked out in gray loungewear, his hair damp. The mattress dipped as he sat down. I could smell the faint scent of cedar and sandalwood soap. I tried to keep my voice steady. "Do you want to dry your hair?" "No. I run hot; it dries fast." "Julian—" "Hm?" I looked up into those dark eyes. Maybe it was an illusion, but there was an intense predatory glint in them. "I'm turning off the light." The room plunged into darkness, save for a small nightlight casting a warm glow in the corner. I scooted back, putting distance between us. Before I could react, Julian had pulled me into his arms. His skin was cool from the shower but radiated an intense, invasive presence. Even through the thin fabric, I could feel the heat radiating off him. I froze, afraid to move, my mind a chaotic mess. We locked eyes. We both knew what was coming. His voice was low and raspy. "Sleep." Unexpectedly, after lying there for a while, the man beside me made no further moves. Soon, I heard the sound of even breathing. He fell asleep? His arm was heavy and firm around my waist, our bodies pressed together without a gap. It was an impossible position to fall asleep in. Julian was usually cold and distant. Seeing him this "clingy" tonight was rare. Maybe he really was drunk. 2 Julian was busy. Three days after the wedding, he flew to France for business. He sent a simple text: [Landed in Paris.] I typed out: [When are you coming back?] but felt it was too intrusive, so I deleted it. He was gone for a week. No video calls, no messages. I almost forgot I was married. One night, I finished my shower and reached for my clothes, only to grab air. I’d forgotten my pajamas and only brought my underwear. I was alone in the penthouse anyway. I walked out of the bathroom and spent eight minutes in front of the massive walk-in closet, finally picking a set of lingerie I’d never dared to wear before. Julian wasn't home. I could wear whatever I wanted. A thrill of excitement ran through me. I stood in front of the full-length mirror. At first, I was shy, but soon I felt confident, eager to try on another set. Just as I opened the closet door again, the bedroom door clicked open. Caught off guard, I dove under the duvet, leaving only my head exposed. I met Julian’s gaze in a panic. I frowned, complaining, "Why didn't you knock?" My face felt like it was going to explode. He must have seen everything. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. Julian’s expression was stoic, but his Adam's apple bobbed. His voice betrayed no emotion. "Apologies. I'll note that for next time." "Well, get out. I need to change." The door closed. I scrambled into my old, safe pajamas, splashing cold water on my burning face. Suddenly, a dull ache hit my lower abdomen. My period had arrived. I tossed and turned when I slept, and I was prone to leaks. There were no period panties in the house, and I was too lazy to go out this late. I debated sleeping in the guest room to save myself the embarrassment of staining the marital bed. Julian walked back in. His hair was damp, and he had changed into loungewear. He had clearly just showered. His eyes were dark and deep. "Something wrong?" I pressed my lips together. "I'm going to sleep in the guest room tonight." "Why?" "The AC in here doesn't seem to be cooling enough. I'm hot." "Then I'll sleep in the guest room too." "Julian, why are you following me?" His voice was cool. "I'm hot too." I looked up at him. "Two people sleeping together makes it hotter." Julian held my gaze, his expression dead serious. "Then we'll lower the thermostat." "..." "Fine. Forget it. We'll sleep here." I slept fitfully, worried about leaks. When I woke up, the sheets were pristine. Thank god. I washed up and went downstairs. Julian was sitting at the dining table, breakfast already laid out. He looked up. "Morning." "It's nine o'clock. Aren't you going to work?" "Grandmother wants us to visit the estate today." "Okay, I'll change." "Drink this soup first. It'll get cold. The housekeeper made it." I looked at the bowl. Red dates, goji berries, longan... "Why did she make this?" "It replenishes blood and Qi. It's good for you." "Does your stomach hurt?" "I'm okay. I don't get bad cramps." I blinked, then stared straight at him. "Julian, you're so concerned. Do you have a secret crush on me?" I never understood why Julian agreed to this marriage. He had a perfect match in his childhood friend, Serena. Everyone thought they were endgame. His dark eyes locked onto mine. He denied it instantly. "No." Then he added, "It's always been an open crush." "Oh." I must be overthinking things. "I brought back some clothes from Paris. They're on the third floor. Go try them on." My eyes lit up. My melancholy vanished. Commercial marriage, no feelings, mutual respect, separate lives... this wasn't so bad after all. 3 We arrived at the Thorne Estate just in time for lunch. At the table, the conversation turned to the Chen family, who had just had a grandson. "When do you two plan on having one?" I choked on my soup. I put down my spoon, embarrassed, and secretly pinched Julian’s thigh under the table. "Chloe is still young. It's not the right time. Besides, we just got married." "That's true. But you both need to take care of your health. You're almost thirty, Julian. Don't work yourself into the ground." "Mom, don't worry about it. I know what I'm doing." "We have some ginseng. I'll have the kitchen stew it for you later. You're staying the night; your room is ready." The Thornes had a German Shepherd. After dinner, I took it for a walk. "I can walk him alone. You don't need to come." I still felt awkward being alone with Julian sometimes. "If he sees a squirrel, you won't be able to hold him." "Oreo looks pretty well-behaved." "Let's go." Julian walked with his hands in his pockets. With his long legs, his pace was leisurely. I walked faster, trying to put some distance between us. Oreo had too much energy. After thirty minutes, I was dying. "You hold him. I need a break." Julian laughed. "Tired already? You were walking too fast." I panted, showing him my phone. "Look, I've done ten thousand steps. I'm done." "Sit here for a bit." There were no benches, just a large decorative rock. "Wait." He took off his suit jacket and placed it on the rock. "Sit on this." The top button of his white shirt was undone, hinting at the definition of his shoulders—lean, powerful, intimidating. My heart rate picked up. Julian’s physique was unexpectedly attractive. "Stay here. I'll buy water." "Okay." "Chloe?" Hearing my name, I looked up and froze. It was Liam Carter, my high school crush and neighbor. I planned to confess to him after graduation, but I heard he was going abroad. The romance died before it began, and I spent that summer depressed. "Liam? When did you get back?" "Just recently." "Do you live around here?" "No, visiting a friend." "Here." Julian returned, handing me a bottle of room-temperature water. "Is this your boyfriend?" Liam asked. Julian’s expression didn't ripple. He extended a hand politely. "Hello. I'm Chloe's husband, Julian Thorne." Liam paused, surprised. "You're married?" "Recently. We haven't had time to announce it properly yet." We exchanged a few pleasantries and left. On the way back, Julian was strange. He was quieter than usual. Back in the room, I couldn't hold it in. "Julian, are you upset about something?" He looked at me for a moment before speaking slowly. "He's the guy you had a crush on in high school." I was blank. "Who?" "Liam Carter." My eyes widened. "How did you know?" Only my brother and I knew. My parents thought I was depressed about my SAT scores. He loosened his tie silently, his voice low. "I guessed." "You're a psychic then. But I got over him years ago. We haven't spoken." "Why?" "...International calls are expensive." The corner of his mouth twitched, and he laughed. I felt sticky from the walk, so I showered. When I came out, I found Julian in the study. I didn't disturb him and went downstairs to watch TV. Grandmother had been busy in the kitchen and brought out a large bowl of soup. "Chloe, you and Julian drink this ginseng and black chicken soup. It simmered all afternoon." "Thanks, Grandma." "I'm going to bed. Make sure Julian drinks it. He has dark circles; he needs the boost." I licked my lips. The walk had made me hungry. I served myself a bowl. The hot soup slid down my throat, leaving a sweet aftertaste. I took the rest to Julian. He was showering. Julian showered fast; he was out in minutes. I scrolled through my phone, not looking at him. "Drink the soup. Grandma made it." "Did you have some?" I nodded. "I just had a bowl." "Want more?" I licked my lips. "A little. But that's for you." "I'm not hungry." "I don't like the meat in it." "Drink the broth. Leave the meat for me." I hesitated for one second before grabbing the spoon, smiling. "Thanks!" After the soup and brushing my teeth, I lay in bed, feeling uncomfortable everywhere. "Can you... move over? You're radiating heat." Even with the AC on, I felt like I was burning up. I tossed and turned. Julian sat up and turned on the lamp. "Are you okay?" I frowned, whining, "It's so hot." I wanted to rip my skin off. "You aren't hot?" "Maybe too much chicken soup." "Can you get me some ice water?" My pajamas were stifling. I found a silk slip in the closet and changed. It was much cooler. Julian pushed the door open, froze for a second, then brought the water over. His voice was hoarse. "Drink. Dilute the heat." "Why is it warm?" "You're on your period. No ice." "I'm going to take a shower. Call me if you feel worse." I blinked. "Didn't you just shower?" He pressed his lips together, feigning casualness. "I'm a little hot too." The water helped. Julian’s shower took forever. The water ran for ages. Worried, I walked to the door. "Julian?" Silence, then the sound of heavy breathing. I called again. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" "Why are you taking so long?" His voice was guttural. "Almost done." Minutes later, the door opened. Julian had changed into fresh pajamas, buttoned all the way to the top. I frowned. "Aren't you hot? Why is it buttoned so tight?" Maybe the ginseng soup fried my brain, but I stood up, walked over to him, and started undoing his buttons one by one. With the shirt half-open, I could see the definition of his muscles, his abs taut. I held my breath. My fingertips trembled as they grazed his skin. I bit my lip. "Can I touch?" Julian didn't speak. He looked down at me from his height. Fresh from the shower, his gaze was darker than ever. Panic set in. Just as I tried to pull my hand back, Julian grabbed it. His palm was scorching. His Adam's apple rolled. His voice was deep, husky. "Yes." My palm pressed against his muscles—hard and hot. I traced upward, inch by inch. "Enough." Julian’s gaze burned. His throat was tight. "I'm sleeping on the sofa."
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