Bound By Revenge: His Unwilling Wife

They didn't speak for the rest of the day.

That night, the bedroom was a war zone of silence. Kingsley pointed to the door.

"Get out," he said. "Sleep in the guest room. I can't look at you."

Cassidy didn't argue. She grabbed her pillow and marched toward the terrace door, intending to cut through to the hallway.

Kingsley's head snapped up. "Wait!"

He lunged across the room. Before Cassidy could react, he tackled her, wrapping his arms around her waist and dragging her down to the floor.

"What are you-"

"Shh!" His hand clamped over her mouth.

He pressed her into the carpet. Above them, through the sheer curtains, a red light blinked. A low buzzing sound hovered outside the glass.

"Drone," Kingsley whispered against her ear. "Elmore's paparazzi."

Cassidy went still. If they saw them apart, or fighting, the stock would tank.

Kingsley reached up and yanked the heavy blackout curtains shut. The room plunged into darkness.

He didn't move immediately. He was lying half on top of her, his heavy leg tangled with hers. She could feel his heart hammering against her ribs. For a moment, they weren't enemies. They were conspirators.

He pushed himself up, clearing his throat. "You can't leave. Long-lens photography. They're looking for any crack in the curtains, any sign of separate rooms."

He stood and offered her a hand. She ignored it and scrambled up.

"We have to sleep in the bed," he said, sounding like he was swallowing glass.

They climbed in. Cassidy grabbed two extra pillows and built a wall down the center of the mattress.

"Pathetic," Kingsley muttered, turning his back to her. "I have zero interest in you."

"Good," Cassidy snapped. "Because the feeling is mutual."

They lay in the dark, the silence loud.

Around 2 AM, the storm broke.

Thunder shook the house. A crack of lightning split the sky, loud enough to penetrate the heavy curtains.

Cassidy flinched violently, curling into a ball. Another boom. She whimpered, an involuntary sound from childhood trauma she never outgrew. She buried her face in the pillow, shaking.

Kingsley shifted.

He lay there for a long moment, listening to her ragged breathing.

Then, slowly, hesitantly, a hand reached over the pillow wall.

It landed awkwardly on her shoulder. It was heavy and warm. He patted her, a stiff, rhythmic motion. Thump. Thump.

It wasn't romantic. It was barely comforting. But it was an acknowledgment. I know you're scared. I'm here.

Cassidy froze. Her shaking subsided. She lay perfectly still under his hand, her heart doing a strange flip.

She turned her head, trying to see him in the dark.

Kingsley snatched his hand back as if he'd touched fire. He rolled over, pulling the duvet up to his ear.

"Go to sleep," he grumbled.

The wall of pillows was still there, but the air on either side felt a little less cold.