My quick tour ended up not being as quick as I had expected. The mansion was massive, and if one was not careful, one could get lost.
I was back in the hall, right where I had begun.
My eyes landed on a painting of a dark, moody forest above the fireplace—it was way too much like Aiden. So, I decided to replace it with a huge canvas I found in the storage room: bold streaks of pink and turquoise on a golden background.
It was loud, expressive, and had a bit of chaos to it.
In short: me.
The butler spotted me dragging the original painting down and hurried over, eyes wide.
"Ma'am, I—are you sure Mr. Frost would approve of that change?"
I smiled sweetly. "You mean, the husband who left me unsupervised in this castle of beige?"
He hesitated. "He… prefers things a certain way."
"So do I." I tilted my head. "And we're married now, aren't we?"
That shut him up.
The staff exchanged glances like they'd just realised the new Queen had arrived and was casually flipping the entire kingdom upside down.
By the time I was in the wine cellar, they were fully on board. Not exactly enthusiastic, but no longer protesting as I reorganised the shelves by vintage year instead of vineyard origin.
A sommelier-type guy nearly fainted when I shoved a 1996 Chateau Margaux between two Napa Valley cabernets.
"Balance is important," I told him sweetly, ignoring the way his soul visibly cracked.
Two hours and one minor panic attack later, I moved on to the wardrobe.
Aiden's closet was over the top—filled with designer suits, neatly pressed shirts, and shoes that gleamed like they were brand new. He even had a section dedicated to cufflinks, which told me everything I needed to know about his priorities.
I had only one goal: chaos.
I flipped his navy suits with the greys, hid the black ones behind the coats, and folded his ties into swans. The housekeeper walked in halfway through and nearly fainted.
"Ma'am," she whispered, horrified, like I'd just cursed at a sacred relic. "Mr. Frost prefers his wardrobe—"
"Oh, I know," I said sweetly. "But he's not here. And I'm bored."
I took in the shock on her face, so I quickly added, "You don't have to worry. It's totally on me. Plus, I'm almost done, so… all good."
Before I finished, I called Sophia to drop by with more chaos.
By the time she arrived, I was standing in the middle of the now-redecorated room, surrounded by color-coded throw pillows and faux fur rugs I'd "borrowed" from the guest wing.
She walked in, stopped dead, and let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a cackle. "Oh. My. God. What's this?"
"I'm redecorating," I said simply.
She blinked at the sunflower painting over the fireplace. "Jasmine. It looks like a Pinterest board from 2012 exploded in here."
"Mission accomplished."
In no time, we had our drinks in hand, robes on, and the scent of oils filled the air, creating a cosy atmosphere. We moved to the indoor pool area, and I let Sophia choose the music. Unfortunately, that meant we were stuck with an upbeat mix of sexy jazz and K-pop.
"You know," Sofia said as we lounged in robes, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you're having fun."
"I am." I exhaled. "More than I thought I would."
Sophia shot me a side-eye. "You're falling for him."
I rolled over. "Don't."
"Don't what?" Sophia asked as she applied her third face mask, "Come on, you're dangerously close to the honeymoon phase, and you don't even know it."
I snorted. "This isn't a honeymoon. It's a hostage situation; I'm just making the most of it."
"Right, Mrs CEO. And Stockholm Syndrome always starts with a kiss." She looked far too pleased with herself. "By the way… tell me again how it accidentally happened on the lips this morning?"
"I will drown you in this pool."
"I give it a week," Sophia said mid-sip.
"For what?"
"For you to jump him."
I rolled my eyes. "You're delusional."
She smirked. "You say that, but I've seen the way your pupils dilate when he walks in wearing those tailored shirts. That man is forbidden fruit dipped in sin and sprinkled with 'yes, please.'"
I threw a pool noodle at her face.
We stayed like that for a while—laughing, tipsy, and comfortably reckless.
By the time Sophia left in the late afternoon, I was flying high on mischief and denial. I wandered back to the bedroom, ready to revel in my chaos, when I spotted it on the bed.
A box.
Matte black, tied with a velvet ribbon.
I frowned, instantly becoming suspicious. There was no card, no delivery sound, and everything felt eerily quiet around the package. After a brief moment of hesitation, I decided to untie the ribbon and open the lid.
Inside, nestled against black silk, was a choker made of thin, soft leather. In the middle, there was an obsidian pendant shaped like a small, sharp crest. I'd seen it before. Not here.
In one of the old books I found in Aiden's library.
I reached for it slowly, brushing my fingertips over the cool stone.
And then I saw the note beneath it.
Wear it. You're mine in name—now in symbol. – A
My stomach twisted.
I didn't know whether to hurl the thing across the room or put it on and dare him to call my bluff. I didn't even get the chance to make a choice.
Behind me, the door opened with a soft click, and I felt a shift in the air. Footsteps crossed the carpet—slow and confident.
Then I heard his voice, deep and smooth. "I was wondering if it would arrive before I did."
I turned, still holding the choker, and saw him in the doorway.
Shirt half unbuttoned. Sleeves rolled. Jaw shadowed with a five o'clock threat. And that look in his eyes?
Possession.
His eyes dropped to the pendant, then lifted to meet mine. A slow smirk curved his lips. "Try it on," he said, voice smooth like silk wrapping around steel.
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
He stepped closer. "I want to see what my wife looks like wearing my family crest."