CHAPTER FOUR

Juliet’s POV

“Marie!” I shrieked, practically flying down the hallway. “He’s awake! Nickolas is awake!”

Marie, who had been instructing a maid near the dining hall, turned sharply toward me. "What?" Her brows furrowed as she came closer. "What happened? Are you sure, Mrs. Ries?"

“I... I don’t know,” I stammered. “I was applying lip balm because his lips were dry, and suddenly, his eyes just… opened. He looked right at me.”

Instead of panicking, Marie’s expression softened with calm understanding. “Ah, yes. That’s happened before,” she said. “Young Master Nickolas has been opening his eyes occasionally these past few months. It’s a reflex. Don’t worry, it doesn’t mean he’s awake yet.”

My heart sank. “So... he didn’t see me?”

Marie offered a reassuring smile. “I know it can be startling, but this isn’t new. Let’s go check, shall we?”

I followed her back to the room, trying to tame the pounding in my chest. When we entered, Nickolas looked the same as always... still and silent, his eyes now closed. Had I imagined it?

Marie picked up his hand and we both watched as it fell limply back to the bed like a dead man's.

“See?” Marie said kindly. “Nothing to worry about. But... since you’re already here,” she added, giving me a smile full of gentle encouragement, “don’t forget to wipe his body tonight. It’ll help his circulation and may encourage more reflexes. Madam Della wants it done regularly.”

“I... can’t Josh do it?” I hesitated.

Marie chuckled lightly. “He used to. But he’s a bodyguard. A bit careless, to be honest. Madam Della thinks you’d be gentler. You’ll do it great, Mrs. Ries.”

There was no pressure in her tone, just trust. She really believed I could handle it.

That night, after a long, hot shower, I changed into a nightgown and returned to the bedroom, only to find myself pacing in slow, anxious circles.

My gaze kept drifting toward him... 

Nickolas Ries, the stranger I’d married in name, lying so still in that massive bed like a breathing statue. His chest rose and fell in even rhythms, face calm, as though asleep... or somewhere far deeper.

I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t want to do it. But I also knew Marie would ask tomorrow. And for some stupid reason, I didn’t want to disappoint her.

Would he react again? Would his eyes open and look at me?

I crept over and stood at his side, watching him. I waved a hand gently in front of his face and pinched him a bit. No response. I tapped his arm lightly... nothing.

I bent closer, murmuring, “Nickolas… can you hear me?” Still nothing.

I bit my lip. “Okay. I’m going to wipe you down now. Marie said it’s good for your circulation. I… I guess if you can hear me and don’t object, I’ll take that as permission.”

No reaction.

My heart thudded unevenly as I poured warm water into the basin and soaked the cloth. I pulled the chair up beside him and sat, the legs scraping softly against the floor.

Slowly, I began wiping his face... his sharp cheekbones, his perfectly cut jaw. He really was too handsome for a billionaire. The kind of beauty that felt surreal, almost otherworldly. But I didn’t care about any of that. Not right now. I just wanted to get this over with.

Then, without warning, his eyes opened.

I jerked back, almost dropping the cloth. My breath caught in my throat.

“I… I just help you clean…,” I said quickly, voice trembling. “For circulation. Don’t be alarmed.”

He didn’t move, but the color began rising on his cheeks. His face flushed slightly.

Alarmed, I dipped the cloth into cooler water and wrung it out. “Is this better?” I whispered, gently patting his forehead. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

But something changed.

His eyes... his pupils... sharpened, narrowing in a way that made me feel pinned. Like he was seeing me now. Really seeing me. And trying to figure out why the hell I was here.

His expression shifted... confusion turning into something darker.

Anger?

My throat tightened. I forced myself to look away, to keep wiping like none of it mattered.

I reached down to unbutton his shirt. My fingers trembled, slipping over the tiny fastenings until the crisp fabric parted to reveal his chest.

Toned. Strong. His abs were defined... surprisingly well-kept for someone who had been lying in a bed for months.

I swallowed hard, cheeks burning. This shouldn’t have felt intimate, but somehow, it did.

It was just a routine. Just part of the job.

But then... I heard it.

A low, guttural groan rumbled from his throat.

I froze, the cloth suspended in midair. “Are you awake?” I asked softly. “Is the water still too hot?” I waved my hands over his eyes.

Another grunt. Then silence. His eyes stayed on me, narrowed and watchful.

“Ok, I guess no more objections… Just reflex.” I murmured as I checked.

Marie said this could happen.

So, I kept going, trying to pretend I wasn’t completely unraveling.

I dragged the cloth across his chest, slow and deliberate, letting it slide over every hard contour as I moved lower... toward his waist.

I paused at the waistband of his pants, breath shallow, fingers trembling slightly.

Then, with a quiet pop, I undid the button.

That’s when I heard it again... a low, guttural growl rumbling from deep in his throat. 

My heart stuttered, heat flooding through me.

Then... 

“WHO ARE YOU?!”