Wrong Room, Wrong Groom: Now He Won't Let Me Go

Inside the courthouse, Natalie made her way to Alexander, her composure firmly in place. "Mr. Evans, your brother told me to handle the registration on my own and asked you to take care of the rest."

Alexander had already seen this coming. The sight of Nathaniel's car pulling off so abruptly earlier had already told him his brother was stirring trouble again.

With a controlled sigh, he remarked, "He's been reckless since he was a kid. I'll deal with him when I get the chance. And you don't need to be so formal—just use my name. We're family now."

Once he finished speaking, Alexander turned smoothly toward Isabella, his posture composed as he offered his hand. "Let's head inside first."

Lingering where she stood, Isabella pressed her lower lip between her teeth, her gaze drifting anxiously to Natalie. It was only their first day dealing with the marriage, yet Nathaniel was already treating her sister with such careless disregard…

Alexander's steady voice cut through her thoughts, grounding her. Startled, Isabella glanced down at the hand extended toward her. After a brief hesitation, she placed her own into his, her fingers tentative as she allowed him to guide her forward.

A faint warmth crept into her cheeks. Never before had a man held her hand so openly—especially not in front of Natalie.

Shaking off the fluster, she forced the feeling down. After everything that had already happened between them, this gesture meant nothing more than courtesy.

Drawing in a steady breath, she lengthened her stride, hurrying to keep pace beside him.

The whole procedure felt almost unreal. By the time she realized it, the paperwork was already done.

Somewhere deep inside, it still hadn't settled—she was married now, bound to a man she barely understood.

Casting him a cautious glance, Isabella saw Alexander slip his phone away before turning his cool gaze toward her. "You and your sister can ride together. The driver will take you home. I've got an engagement tonight, so I'll be back late."

"All right… understood, Mr. Evans."

After a brief pause, Alexander spoke in a low, measured tone. "You might want to rethink how you address me. It sounds off."

Isabella felt her fingertips tremble faintly at his words, her head dipping as unease curled through her.

In her mind, the word "honey" felt even more unnatural, almost impossible to say aloud, so she kept her lips sealed.

His cool gaze flicked over the subtle flush coloring her earlobes, and without adding another word, he turned on his heel and walked away.

From where she stood, Isabella watched his tall figure recede into the distance. Only after he vanished from sight did she let out a slow, shaky breath.

When she lifted her head again, Natalie was already walking toward her.

"Natalie…" she called softly, the name slipping out with a slight, unfamiliar trace of hurt.

Natalie's gaze dropped to Isabella's hand, still clenched tightly around the strap of her bag, before she reached out and gently wrapped her hand around her sister's. "Come on. Let's get my marriage registered too."

A quick, eager nod came from Isabella, her lashes damp as a gentle flush crept into her eyes.

Keeping close at Natalie's side, she caught her sister's gentle voice drifting over again.

"I honestly don't see anything wrong with this," Natalie said softly, glancing at her. "Bella, you're here with me while I register the marriage. Even if it's arranged like this, it still feels… meaningful to me."

Emotion surged through Isabella as she wiped her tears in a rush, her voice bright despite the tremor. "Of course—I'll stay with you no matter what, always."

While Natalie moved through the formalities, the clerk looked up and spoke in a routine tone. "Miss Brown, you'll need to sign on behalf of your future husband as well."

Off to the side, Isabella watched in silence as her sister lowered her pen and wrote Nathaniel's name in the spouse column, each stroke steady and assured, stirring a complicated mix of pride and unease in her chest.

Deep down, Isabella found herself wishing she could conceive as soon as possible; she resolved to follow Alexander's every expectation, believing that even if she never earned his affection, she could at least avoid becoming someone he resented. She believed only then could she protect her sister for once.

Inside the car, Isabella clasped her sister's hand and longed to ask whether Natalie had suffered any mistreatment the night before, but Natalie only met her eyes and gave her a subtle, steady look that told her to stay silent.

Now that they had just married into the Evans family, the servants surrounded them on all sides, and anything they said could easily find its way back to Pamela or Alexander.

Natalie understood better than anyone how careful they had to be, so all she could do was soothe her sister and quietly guide her, hoping Isabella would slowly learn how to stay calm.

When it was time to separate, Natalie pulled her into a soft, brief hug. "Go home."

Just as Isabella was about to nod, Natalie leaned closer and murmured in a voice meant for her ears alone, "Nathaniel isn't all that smart. I can deal with him without much trouble. And even if Alexander scares you, don't keep letting him control everything between you in the bedroom. You need to learn to make the first move too."

For a split second, Isabella froze in shock, but before she could respond, Natalie had already let her go.

Back at Alexander's mansion, Isabella stood in the silent, empty living room and suddenly had no idea where she belonged.

...

Near eleven that night, Alexander still hadn't come back.

Fresh from her shower, Isabella perched tensely at the edge of the bed.

Earlier, a maid had guided her into the spacious walk-in closet, where she'd discovered rows of neatly arranged outfits—clearly prepared for her in advance. While deciding what to wear, color rose to her face the moment she reached for something a little too bold.

Delicate, barely-there straps clung to her shoulders, as if they might slip free with the slightest movement, while the silky hem barely skimmed the tops of her thighs.

Fatigue gradually crept in as she sat there waiting for too long, and eventually she eased herself back against the mattress, pulling the covers close.

The click of the door broke the stillness. Stepping inside, Alexander caught sight of the figure nestled beneath the covers. His hand lifting toward his tie paused mid-motion.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind—he was already married.

Hearing him, Isabella pushed herself upright.

Soft pink silk draped over her slender frame, the fabric hugging her waist before falling loosely, while one delicate strap had already slid off her shoulder, exposing a delicate curve of skin that seemed almost too fragile to touch.

As he drew closer to the bed, Alexander's tall silhouette swallowed her in shadow, echoing the suffocating weight he'd pinned her with the night before.

Under the intensity of his gaze, Isabella instinctively stilled, her breath catching in her throat.

"Still awake?" he murmured, his low voice roughened by fatigue, carrying a quiet rasp that lingered in the air.

After a fleeting glance into his eyes, she quickly dropped her gaze, fingers tightening slightly against the sheets.

A light, unexpected brush grazed her cheek, prompting her to look up—his loosened tie swayed lazily, the silk grazing her skin as he bent over her.

With unhurried attention, his eyes traced over her—lingering on the fallen strap at her shoulder, and then drifting down to her legs drawn together in nervous tension.

Curling a finger beneath the delicate strap, he adjusted it, his voice calm and detached. "I've had a few drinks tonight. Probably not the best time to try for a baby."

At those words, Isabella went still, the realization settling in that all her waiting had meant nothing.

Leaning in close, he lowered his voice near her ear. "But tonight, I'm in the mood. Is that alright?"

Warm breath grazed her skin, sending a ripple of involuntary shivers down her spine.

Faced with the question, she realized it hardly felt like one she could refuse.

Heat crept across her cheeks as she murmured softly, "Yes… that's fine…"

Lowering himself without hesitation, he claimed her lips in a steady, unyielding kiss. Fingers curled into the sheets beneath her as she hesitated, unsure where to place her hands.

…

By the time the night thinned into the early hours, exhaustion weighed so heavily on Isabella that even lifting a finger felt impossible. Relief flickered through her as Alexander gathered her up and carried her into the bathroom to clean her up.

Caught off guard, she blinked at his unexpected gentleness.

Curled against him beneath the covers later, Isabella felt the steady warmth of his chest at her back, her heavy eyelids beginning to droop as sleep crept in.

Out of nowhere, Alexander broke the hush. "What did you do today?" Following the sex, his voice carried a relaxed, almost lazy ease.

The question threw her for a moment, and she instinctively steadied her breathing before answering, "I… I didn't really do anything."

When he offered no response, she hurried to fill the silence, adding, "The house is so big… I just wandered around, trying to get familiar with everything."

An acknowledgment came from him, brief and unreadable, and the room slipped back into silence.

Natalie's earlier words echoed in her mind, urging her forward, yet uncertainty held her back.

Searching for something to say, she found herself at a loss, unable to bridge the distance between them despite sharing the same bed.

After a moment's hesitation, she finally spoke again, her voice soft and cautious. "Tomorrow… is there anything you'd like me to do, Mr. Evans?"

Alexander's breath traced lightly along her nape, close enough to feel. "Be ready at nine. You'll go to the hospital with my mother to visit my grandmother. I'll meet you at my parents' place."

"Okay."

"When you're in front of my grandmother, don't call me 'Mr. Evans.'"

Within his embrace, Alexander sensed how rigid she stayed, her slight frame unmoving, almost childlike in its restraint.

Considering the age gap between them, he found it absurd—he was twelve years older than Isabella, so of course she might have issues bringing herself to call him "honey."

Silence stretched between them, and just as he started to pull his hand away, preparing to settle back and sleep, her delicate arm slid around his, drawing it gently against her warm skin.

"Honey… Would it be alright if I called you that?" she whispered.