The room abruptly went still, curiosity and quiet relief flickering across every face at the thought of Connor's marriage. Even as gossip simmered beneath the surface, there was unmistakable satisfaction in knowing their aloof boss no longer stood alone.
Hearing Nicole's words through the line, Connor responded evenly, "No need. I'll head back later."
Nicole replied, "Then I'll see you near the entrance."
"That works," he said simply.
Once the call disconnected, the silence in the room deepened instead of easing.
A faint crease appeared between Connor's brows, yet he made no effort to address the awkward tension. Sliding the Braille phone into his pocket, he turned and left without another word.
Samuel gathered his belongings and trailed after Connor, only to hear a colleague chuckle behind him. "Ms. Perry seems like a genuinely nice woman. Samuel, why did you reduce her to someone ordinary?"
With a sideways glare sharp enough to cut, Samuel snapped back, "Shut up."
...
Within days, the long-neglected house shed its hollow silence and took on a new life, as if someone had finally breathed warmth into its bones.
Every surface gleamed, fresh furniture softened the space, and under the mellow glow of the lights, Nicole drifted from room to room, quietly stitching the house into something that felt unmistakably like home.
At dinner, she calmly went over their recent expenses, her tone measured and efficient, offering only what mattered and leaving out every unnecessary flourish.
After hearing her report, Connor replied evenly, "There's no need to account for every expense. Use the money however you like."
Recent years of scraping by had shaped Nicole's habits, especially after her mother's sudden death left her worn down and cautious, so Connor's effortless trust settled over her like an unexpected warmth. "Thank you," she said softly.
Connor offered no reply and headed to the bathroom once dinner was finished.
Stepping inside, he halted in mild surprise at the remodeled space—brightly colored bottles lining the counter, the air faintly scented, and every towel swapped out for an unmistakable shade of pink.
A quiet sigh escaped him as his eyes drifted shut, resignation written plainly across his face. It seemed Nicole could be timid to the point of yielding at times, yet she'd flip into a startling, reckless boldness when she shouldn't be.
Left with no real alternative, he emerged from the shower wrapped in a soft pink towel, only to find that she had already laid out a robe and stepped close to help him slip into it.
For reasons he couldn't quite explain, he didn't stop her hands or refuse her quiet attentiveness.
Nicole had assumed that his years of disability would have left him with a withered physique, yet the figure exposed beneath the loose towel told another story—solid muscle defined his chest, and his shoulders looked broad and powerful in a way his clothes had never revealed.
Despite never having cared much for men, a faint tension curled in her stomach all the same. That unease sharpened when her gaze betrayed her, catching the unmistakable outline at his crotch area, vivid enough to leave far too much to the imagination.
A chill skittered down Nicole's spine as she thought that it was a good thing he was supposedly impotent; otherwise, she honestly suspected she might not have survived their wedding night without collapsing from sheer exhaustion.
Completely unaware of the wild direction her thoughts had taken, Connor shifted topics with effortless calm. "Next month, we'll be paying a visit to my family. Make sure you're ready."
Her hands stilled mid-movement before she straightened and answered with unexpected gravity, "Okay. You don't have to worry—I'll make sure no one touches you."
Connor had no response.
Right then, Nicole's phone vibrated, and when she saw Erika's name flash across the screen, the faint warmth on her face vanished, replaced by a guarded, serious look.
Erika's tone was bright and sugary as she said, "Nicole, you didn't forget my birthday, did you? I'm hosting a party next week—you have to be there."
The casual mention of the birthday celebration dragged up old memories, and Nicole felt the familiar sting of past humiliation tightening in her chest.
Fully aware of where Nicole's nerves lay exposed, Erika had always used such gatherings to flaunt herself, turning Nicole into quiet entertainment for the crowd.
Having waited far too long for a chance to retaliate, Nicole didn't hesitate when the invitation landed; lifting her chin, she replied evenly, "Of course. I'll be there."
A man's voice drifted faintly through the receiver, low and impatient in the background. With an affected laugh, Erika drawled, "I've got to go—Jerald's calling again. He's been insatiable lately, acting without restraint just because he's young."
Without a word, Nicole ended the call, her fingers tightening as the screen went dark.
Connor caught every flicker of her reaction and let out a soft, mocking scoff. "That strong of a response?" he asked coldly. "What is it—do you and her boyfriend share some kind of past?"
