Lilibeth walks through the doorway, and there’s an air of uncertainty around her. At the reception, she’d put on a bright smile and played the perfect bride, but something shifted when we got into the car. Suddenly, there was total silence. Once again, she's quiet now.
In the dim light of the foyer, she looks smaller somehow. It's strange to think that this woman, mostly a stranger, is now my wife.
“Welcome home,” I say, though it already feels fake. Home. As if this arranged marriage could ever produce something so comfortable.
Lilibeth's eyes dart around the entryway, taking in the surroundings.
“It's very... clean,” she finally says, turning to me. In the darkness, her eyes glimmer with an otherworldly beauty, the green and blue drawing me in. I remind myself to stop staring and break off eye contact with a shrug.
“I’ll tell the cleaners you approve of their methods.” I close the door behind us, and we both hear the auto lock engage.Lilibeth’s eyes dart behind me, toward the door, as though wishing it remained open.
“Do you want a tour?” I ask, though I'm tired and would rather just show her to her room and be done with this day.
“Um.” She nervously twirls a tendril of hair around her finger and bites her lower lip in a manner that can only be endearing—to someone else, though. I have the clarity of thought to think. To me, she’s not allowed to be endearing.
To me, she owes a debt still, for what she did to Nikandr.
“Actually,” she sighs and shuffles on her feet. “I’m beat. But…if you’d like.”
“No. That’s fine. I’ll show you to the bedroom,” I say instantly, relieved we can finally call this long day a night.
“Yes, please.” She smiles, those distinctive dimples appearing in her cheeks. I look away.
I gesture toward the staircase. She follows me up, but to my ears, I feel as though her footsteps falter by the time we’re on top of the stairs.
When I turn to check on her progress, she looks up from the stairs below me, her eyes almost fearful.
I turn back and once we reach the hall, lead right. She follows, like a quiet little puppy, or so I feel.
“And...” I push open the door at the end of the hall. “The bedroom.”
I step aside so she can enter first.
Lilibeth walks in slowly, her eyes widening as she takes in the king-sized bed dominating the center of the room. It's a new purchase, one I made for her. Not that I plan on sharing it with her, but I do want her to be comfortable under my roof.
“Our bedroom?” she repeats as her eyes remain fixed on the bed, her voice pitched slightly higher than before. “As in, we're sharing?”
My mind turns a cartwheel. Has she just gone ahead and assumed we’re sharing a room? What the hell? My instinct is to shut that idea down now and here, but instead, a small part of me revels in the idea of toying with her.
I raise an eyebrow. “We're married now. What did you expect?”
She turns to face me, her cheeks flushed. I notice her gulp. Dear lord, she’s nervous. “Well, I just thought... I mean, it's an arranged marriage, so I assumed we'd have separate rooms. At least at first.”
I cross my arms, leaning against the doorframe with an eyebrow still cocked at her
“No, no, that's fine.” She waves her hand dismissively, but it shakes as she does. “Sharing is fine. Totally fine. It's just—” She cuts herself off, biting her lower lip. By now, I’ve realized that’s a nervous tick.
“Just what?” I prompt, curious despite myself.
“It's just that wedding night consummations are so... old-fashioned, don't you think?” The words spill from her in a rush. “I mean, it's a tradition from when people needed to verify that a marriage could produce heirs and all that, but we're in the 21st century now, and nobody's checking the sheets in the morning anymore, thank God, because how embarrassing would that be?”
I blink and walk toward her, highly amused by her rambling. Who is this woman? She’s a trembling mess, and I know I shouldn’t toy with her, but just how far is she going totake this argument? Did she just say the words ‘produce heirs’ and refer to morning sheets?
What the…actual fuck?
The Lilibeth at the reception was all sass and pure spine. Right now, she’s a deer in the headlights. That version of Lilibeth was irritating in her perfection. This version, with her nervous babbling and pink cheeks, is... interesting.
“And really,” she continues, walking backward, away from me as I get close, “there are practical reasons to wait, you know? We hardly know each other.”
