Jean never imagined the arrogant Logan Kingsley could carry a wound like that beneath his tailored suits and cold smirks. But now, she saw the cracks. And somehow, she couldn't look away.
Logan glanced away first, clearing his throat. "Anyway... enough sob stories. This was supposed to be a relaxing evening."
Jean didn't reply. She only reached for her water, but her expression had softened.
And for the first time since their fake marriage began, she wasn't just looking at him like a rival… she was seeing the man behind the mask.
__________________________
The moonlight spilled across the bedroom floor. Jean sat on the edge of the bed, toweling her hair dry after a long bath. Her new room was massive… too elegant, too cold. A beautiful cage.
A soft knock echoed at the door.
She looked up. "What now?"
Logan didn't wait for permission. He entered, casually, unbothered and shirtless, again.
