THE BEGINNING OF HONEYMOON

Justin's POV

I surprised myself when I told her we'd be sharing a room. It slipped out faster than I intended, smoother than I meant it to. The truth? I hated close proximity with women,always had. It made my skin crawl, my thoughts disoriented. My mother was the only woman I ever allowed that kind of closeness, and even that was rare. But with Elena…

I said it, and I meant it.

There was no going back.

As soon as we stepped into the suite, Elena vanished into the bathroom, locking the door behind her like it was her last shield of defense. I understood. The day had been heavy for both of us.

But I was left standing in the middle of a hotel room with a king-sized bed and a thousand questions I didn't have the right to ask.

So, I walked to the window.

The city lights shimmered below like a blanket of stars. My reflection stared back at me, sharp suit, harder eyes. The man who had built empires with his name and broken hearts without blinking.

What was I doing?

Sharing a bed? That wasn't in the script. I didn't do soft moments. I didn't do scented skin and slow breath beside me. I didn't do any of this.

But then her voice cut through the silence. "I need help."

I turned.

She was standing just beyond the bathroom, her bare back toward me, the silk of her dress hugging her like a second skin. My breath hitched just slightly. "I can do this, I said to my self 

One step.

Two.

And suddenly, my hands were on the lace that held her dress in place.

My fingers touched her skin flawless, soft, warm.

God.

It had been years since something as simple as touch stirred anything in me. But right then, I wanted to lean into it. To press my lips to the curve of her shoulder. To memorize the shape of her spine.

But I didn't.

I couldn't.

I loosened the lace with practiced hands, and the moment the dress slipped from its tight form, she bolted back into the bathroom like I'd branded her.

Good.

That was for the best.

When she returned, her face was calm again. Controlled. She thanked me. I nodded and told her I'd take the couch.

But then she said it.

"We can share the bed. Just… boundaries."

Another first.

The woman I had practically forced into a contract was now offering peace.

Fine. I slid under the covers, careful not to let our bodies touch. I reached over, turned off the light, and let the darkness take over.

But sleep didn't come easy.

Her scent lingered in the air vanilla and something sweeter, warmer, real. It filled the room like perfume. It filled my lungs like a drug.

I turned to face away from her.

Still couldn't sleep.

She was quiet. Too quiet. But eventually, her breathing evened out. And then maybe an hour later i gave in.

Sleep wrapped around me like silk.

The next time my eyes opened, I panicked.

Twelve o'clock?

I never slept this long. Never.

What the hell was happening to me?

I scrambled out of bed. The sun poured in through the massive window, bathing everything in golden light. My side of the bed was still warm. I rubbed my face, frustrated that I'd let myself slip.

We had a flight at 1:00 p.m.

I stepped out into the suite and spotted a tray of breakfast on the table. Elena was nowhere in sight, but she'd clearly eaten—and left some for me.

Of course she had.

I didn't know what to make of that.

Still shirtless, I took a seat and started eating quickly. I glanced at the clock. We had forty-five minutes.

I had planned this honeymoon last minute. Not because I cared. But because…

Because she deserved something.

Her best friend once mentioned how much Elena loved Paris. Something about always dreaming of seeing the Eiffel Tower lit up at night, of painting in Montmartre like a local artist.

I remembered.

I told myself it was a reward. A fair gesture for her cooperation.

But maybe it was something more.

Elena emerged from her room just as I was finishing my coffee. My breath caught in my throat.

She looked… stunning.

The soft cream-colored dress hugged her body perfectly. Her curls were pinned to one side, elegant but effortless. Her eyes sparkled with something I couldn't name.

"You're ready?" I asked, swallowing hard.

She smiled faintly. "I didn't pack. I didn't know we'd be leaving so soon."

I stood up and tossed my napkin on the table. "It's been sorted. Your bags are already loaded. Your only job is to follow me."

Her eyes widened. "You… packed for me?"

"Had someone do it. Don't flatter yourself," I added, tone flat.

But she was still staring.

And when I turned away, I could feel her eyes trailing over me.

She was ogling.

I didn't stop her.

We left the hotel and drove straight to the private airport. My jet waited on the tarmac, sleek and polished like everything else I owned. The staff loaded the luggage. The pilot gave me a nod.

Elena's eyes were wide.

For a second, I thought she might panic. Not everyone was comfortable flying on private jets, especially when the roar of the engine took over.

But then I remembered—she came from a wealthy family before everything crashed. She'd flown before.

Still, I watched her.

Carefully.

We settled into our seats, the leather warm beneath us. She looked out the window, silent.

I leaned back and closed my eyes. Her scent was still here, even in this space.

God help me.

I slept almost the entire flight. Deep, unbothered sleep. The kind I hadn't had in years.

Something about her did that.

When I woke up, we were descending.

The pilot announced our arrival in Paris. Elena gasped softly beside me.

And I couldn't help it.

I chuckled.

Because the look on her face the wonder, the awe, the tiny flicker of hope 

Was the most honest thing I had seen in weeks.

And it stirred something dangerous in me.

Something I couldn't name.

We touched down.

She turned to me. "Paris?"

I met her gaze.

"You wanted magic. I'm giving you a taste."

She didn't speak.

But her eyes said everything.

My heart seemed content.

"Just a reward for being a good girl" I said to maintain my cold aura around her