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"You… you…" Her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened in disbelief. The emerald orbs reflected his appearance as if capturing his very essence.

Muscles tensed, he stared back into her eyes.

After a while, Quinn finally found her voice. "You-you…" She shook her head in denial.

"I'm sorry…" he said softly. He knew he was wrong; he had been deceiving her all this while. But he truly couldn't let her go. He could never let her go. Right now, she was the heart he had been missing. If she left, he would die.

He held her tighter in his arms, his voice trembling as he mumbled in her ear, "I'm really sorry…"

Quinn's eyes filled with confusion as she stared back at him from his arms, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other on the back of his head. "What? What are you sorry about? I'm just…mesmerized by your appearance."

She ran her fingers over his face. His flesh was firm yet soft. She traced the dark, sword-like eyebrows, the pair of brooding eyes with red irises that sometimes turned obsidian, the tall nose, and the thin yet inviting lips as red as cherries. She swallowed hard, her Adam's apple bobbing.

The distance between them wasn't even a meter. They both craved physical touch—undeniably.

Quinn rested her forehead against his and whispered, "You are the most magnificent-looking man I've ever met."

Even the prideful peacock Dylan was nothing compared to this man!

Something deep flashed in his eyes, though it escaped Quinn's notice.

"Really?" he whispered, his eyes darting with realization as he hugged her tighter. At the same time, his heart felt both relaxed and heavy. He didn't know whether to feel happy or otherwise because she didn't recognize him.

"Yes," Quinn said, rocking her head slightly. Her voice softened as she rested her head on his shoulder, starting to feel weak.

She looked up at him. "I'll go and wash up. Wait for me so we can sleep together."

He nodded, helping her to the bathroom.

He stood outside the bathroom door, his long hair partially covering his face, and his hands tucked into his pockets.

He could hear her soft breathing, the water rolling off her fair skin like gems, and the gentle patting of her hands against her silky body. His expression darkened, but he couldn't leave her alone there.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally stepped out. Her silky hair dripped with water, and the white towel clung to her, stopping just above her mid-thigh.

She flashed him a smile as he carried her to the bedroom. "I thought you'd wait for me in the room."

"I can't," he mumbled, sitting her down in front of her vanity.

"I wouldn't fall," she replied, her tone a bit weak as she watched his sleek arms reach for the hair dryer. Her eyes traveled to his muscular arm, and her head, which was pressed against his chest, couldn't help but take in his strength. Firm. Strong. That was all she could think to describe him. He was one of the sexiest men alive.

"I know," he answered above her head, followed by the comforting hum of the hair dryer. His fingers moved gently through her damp hair, combing it in smooth, careful strokes that sent a soothing warmth across her scalp.

"So, why were you still standing there…?"

"Because I want to be thete for you—any day, anytime, anywhere."

"You sound so romantic," she chuckled, feeling slightly awkward before quickly diverting the topic to something else.

By the time her hair was dry, she could barely muster the strength to put on the nightgown he had picked out for her. Watching him cover her with the blanket, she couldn't help but smile.

"Whoever you marry will definitely be the luckiest queen alive."

It was crazy how much she had come to trust her life with a stranger—a creature so different from her. But he was the one person she trusted completely. She was sure he would never hurt her, and she was certain he would always be there for her. Call her crazy, but she knew him well enough.

"I will only marry one person," he said, his voice drifting into her ear.

He slipped into bed beside her as he always did. They had done this many times before.

Her own husband had never stepped into the master bedroom since their doomed marriage. Even when he had violated her, it had been in the kitchen while she was making soup for him.

The other side of her bed had always been cold—not that she wanted the monster of a husband to share it with her. The man beside her now was all she ever wanted, for here he was, keeping it warm every night.

"So, who is this lucky woman?" she asked, her tone inquisitive.

The man was silent for a moment, his long eyelashes casting shadows over his eyes, his emotions unreadable.

Quinn waited patiently. After nearly a minute of silence, she shook her head. "Alright, if you don't want to tell me—"

"She's married," he said, cutting her off.

Quinn stiffened for a moment. She had a feeling she knew who he was talking about.

"And if she divorces?"

"She'll be mine," he said with quiet determination.

She shook her head with a soft chuckle, choosing not to press him further.

"Let's get some sleep, shall we?"

"Okay." He pulled the blanket over himself, then rolled her into his arms.

"Goodnight," she whispered.

"Goodnight, mia."