XVII

We arrived at a nearby restaurant, and once we sat at a table for two, a waitress came over to take our orders. I stayed quiet while Yohan focused on his phone, his expression serious.

I didn’t want to disturb him. Yohan managed far more businesses than I did, and he was always busy. My father had allowed me to take a break for our honeymoon, handling my work in my absence. Despite my initial anger at Yohan, I was grateful for this chance to experience a proper vacation after our wedding.

When our food finally arrived, I kept my focus on eating, avoiding Yohan’s gaze. But even so, I felt hyper-aware of his presence across from me. I suddenly became self-conscious about how I looked while eating. Even though I wanted to eat more, I held back, trying to maintain a modest demeanor.

After finishing our meal, we walked back to the villa. Yohan stayed ahead of me, still engrossed in his phone, seemingly monitoring something important. I didn’t ask—he might get annoyed, and besides, it wasn’t my business.

As we entered our accommodation, Yohan suddenly called my name. I turned to face him, waiting for what he had to say.

"I have an emergency. I need to leave now," he said, his tone serious.

My eyes widened. He was leaving? Just like that? "W-Where are you going?" I asked hesitantly.

Yohan met my gaze, his expression cold. "It’s none of your business, Cosette. Just stay here and don’t leave. I’ll be back," he said curtly before heading to our room, presumably to change.

I stood there, staring blankly, my chest tightening.

This is wrong… Am I falling for him?

Why does it feel like this is happening so fast?

How? He hasn’t done anything right—except in bed.

Beyond that? Nothing.

Yohan had his moods. The only time I had seen a different side of him was after he had exhausted me to the point of soreness. But since then, he hadn’t shown any of that softness again.

I need to stop these feelings now before they get any worse.

I don’t want to end up like my mother. She was a martyr—no matter how many times my father hurt her, she never left. She loved him too much to walk away.

I don’t want to be like that.

I don’t want to be a martyr.

I wiped my face, taking a deep breath.

I have to put an end to these dangerous feelings for my husband.

After spending a week in Hawaii, Yohan and I returned to LA on the same private jet we had taken there. Instead of going back to my parents' house, where I used to live, I would now be moving in with Yohan. He had his own house, and that was where we would be living as a married couple.

Leaving the resort in Hawaii filled me with sadness—I would miss the beauty of that place, and I couldn’t forget what had happened there, especially in our villa. Yes, I admit I’m starting to develop feelings for Yohan, but I’m trying to suppress them while it’s still early. I’ve never had a boyfriend in my entire life, so I don’t really know what love is or how to tell if I’m in love. For now, all I want is to have a good relationship with Yohan. I know I can’t avoid him or escape this marriage—I am already a Warren.

But I don’t want to end up like my parents. If Yohan and I ever have children, I don’t want them to go through what Geneva and I did. And I certainly don’t want Yohan to become like my father.

“This will be your new home,” Yohan said as we stepped into the house we would now share as husband and wife.

The house was spacious, with a second floor and a rooftop. Yohan had mentioned earlier that Harrison Pierre Whitmore was the engineer who had designed it, along with an architect. The minimalist design was stunning, making the place even more inviting.

“There’s only one bedroom for us. You’ll be sleeping in the master bedroom with me,” he said calmly before heading upstairs.

I watched him for a moment, then took a deep breath and followed, dragging my suitcase from our Hawaii trip. I needed to talk to Yohan tonight before bed. He had been in a good mood all day, and I knew it was best to speak with him before he became irritated.

When I entered our room, I was caught off guard—Yohan stood there shirtless, wearing only boxer shorts.

I swallowed hard, quickly taking a deep breath before looking away.

“I’m going to shower. Want to join me?” he teased.

My entire face turned red. I glanced at him again, catching the amused grin on his face. But I wasn’t in the mood for his games, so I shook my head, keeping my expression serious.

“We need to talk, Yohan,” I said firmly.

He blinked before nodding. Meanwhile, I fought the urge to cover him up—my gaze kept flickering to his abs and lower… where his boxers left very little to the imagination.

“Now, Cosette? Can I take a shower first?” he asked.

I shook my head again.

We needed to talk now. If I waited, Yohan’s mood might shift, and I wouldn’t get the chance to have a proper conversation with him. It was better to address things while he was still in a decent mood.

“Let’s talk before you shower,” I insisted.

Yohan sighed but nodded, pulling on a pair of shorts and a shirt. I let out a quiet breath of relief—at least I wouldn’t be distracted anymore.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze locked on me, waiting for whatever I had to say.

I took another deep breath, gathering my thoughts.

“Now that we’re living together as a married couple, I’d like to work on our relationship, Yohan,” I said seriously. My hands felt cold from nervousness—I didn’t want his mood to shift before we even started talking.

His eyebrows lifted slightly as he leaned back, still watching me.

I waited for his response, but he said nothing. He just kept staring at me.

I blinked, then continued speaking. “I want us to have a good relationship, Yohan. I know our first meeting didn’t go well, and I made a big mistake. But can’t that change? I’m not difficult to get along with, Yohan. We can try to… um…”

Damn it. Why can’t I just say what I really want to say?

I bit my lip when I heard his soft laughter. My chest tightened with nerves at his reaction. He looked up at me, still smirking, as if I had said something amusing. Then, he stood up and took a step toward me, making me freeze in place.

My whole body went cold when he whispered,

“Do you really think I’ll fall for you? You dragged yourself into this situation—so take responsibility for it.”

I stared at him, eyes wide in shock.

He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark with anger, sending a shiver through me.

“You have no right to order me around, Cosette. You may have started this mess, but I’m the one in control. This is my house, and you… you are nothing more than my servant. As my wife, your duty is to obey my rules. Do you want a peaceful marriage? Then don’t be stubborn.”

With that, Yohan turned away. Moments later, I heard the bathroom door open and close, followed by the sound of running water.

I let out a shaky breath and walked toward the bed, sinking onto the mattress. My hand pressed against my chest as I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the ache his words had left behind.

I thought things would change. I thought we had formed some kind of connection in Hawaii.

But I was wrong.

He’s still angry with me. He’s still determined to ruin my life.

I wiped my face with trembling hands, staring blankly ahead.

I messed up again.

How am I supposed to handle this? How do I stop it?

How do I fight this… when I’m already falling for Yohan?