POV: Ava |
The car pulls up to the mansion gates like we're entering a dream.
No, a movie.
No, a drama.
A full 50-episode enemies-to-lovers slow burn K-drama with tears, tension, and eventual kisses.
Only… I don't think Alex plans on the kisses part.
Whatever. Baby steps.
I press my face against the window like a puppy at a bakery. "Wow. It's even bigger in real life."
The mansion is huge. Black marble, glass windows, sharp edges. Very him. Very cold. Very intimidating. Like if someone turned Alex's entire personality into architecture.
He doesn't react to my comment. Or my excitement. Or my existence, really.
"Thank you for the ride," I chirp to the driver as I step out, heels clicking dramatically on the pavement.
Well—
They would've clicked if I hadn't stepped on my own dress.
I let out a little yelp and stumble forward, arms flailing in the air like I'm trying to fly.
Alex's hand shoots out. Strong, steady. He catches me by the wrist just before I faceplant on the pristine driveway.
Silence.
My heart? Having a meltdown.
"Oh my god," I wheeze, clinging to his arm like a koala. "That would've been so embarrassing. Not that it wasn't already. But thank you! You have such fast reflexes. Honestly, maybe you were a superhero in a past life."
Still silence.
I glance up.
His expression hasn't changed. Not even a twitch. But his hand lingers for a second too long before he lets go.
"You should be careful," he says blandly.
"You noticed I exist!" I say out loud.
Pause.
His jaw clenches. "Don't make a scene. The staff will talk."
"Okay," I whisper, grinning like I just won the lottery. "But just so you know, you saved me. That was very husband-y of you."
He walks ahead without replying. I trot after him, dress hitched in my hands, still giddy despite nearly breaking my nose.
We enter the mansion.
It smells like money and pinewood. The ceilings are so high they practically touch the clouds.
"This place is so clean," I whisper. "Like a billionaire's Pinterest board."
"You'll be staying in the east wing. My room is on the opposite side. Don't enter without knocking."
Right. Separate rooms. Of course.
It's fine.
It's fine.
It's totally fine.
I'm in his house. I'm his wife.
Even if he says it like he's filing taxes.
Still, I beam up at him. "Got it, Mr. Ren."
He pauses mid-step. Turns his head slightly.
I blink. "What?"
"…Nothing."
Did I imagine it—or did his ears turn the faintest shade of pink?
I decide not to point it out. For now.
But I whisper to myself anyway:
"One step closer."