3.
1176 Words
At the opposite end of the hallway, Charles stepped out of the elevator, rubbing his temples as a strange dizziness clouded his thoughts.
"What the hell..." he muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is unlike me."
Charles Montgomery rarely felt unwell. Years of discipline, a strict routine, and an iron will had made him nearly immune to fatigue. But tonight, his body felt unusually warm, his heartbeat heavier than normal.
He exhaled sharply and strode toward his suite.
Oddly, the door wasn't fully shut.
His brows knitted together as he reached for the handle. Alex, his personal assistant, always ensured everything was in perfect order before he arrived.
Who left the door open?
Twisting the doorknob, Charles stepped inside. His sharp gray eyes immediately landed on a young woman sitting quietly on the edge of his bed.
She wore a simple dress, her hands folded nervously in her lap. Her long ebony hair cascaded over her shoulders, and the soft lighting gave her an almost ethereal appearance.
Charles leaned casually against the doorframe and smirked. "So..." he drawled. "Alex finally figured out what I needed." He assumed his assistant had arranged company for him after noticing how exhausted he'd been lately.
The woman slowly looked up and their eyes met.
Charles frowned because she didn't look like someone who did this for a living, there was innocence in her eyes.
"...name?" he finally asked.
Ophelia blinked. Wasn't this her husband? Her father had only told her to wait in the room for the man she'd be marrying. No pictures or introduction.
She had expected someone much older. Instead… The man before her looked devastatingly handsome. Tall with broad shoulders hidden beneath a charcoal suit and his jet-black hair slightly tousled.
His piercing gray eyes somehow appeared both cold and mesmerizing. Before Ophelia could answer, Charles caught a faint fragrance drifting toward him.
Soft, fresh lavender.
For some reason, the scent stirred something inside him. His heartbeat accelerated and his body instinctively moved closer.
Ophelia watched him approach, her pulse racing for reasons she couldn't explain.
She forced herself to smile. "I..." She swallowed nervously before extending the small stroll she'd been holding. "This... was given to me to hand to my husband."
Charles accepted it absentmindedly, barely looking at the contents.
His attention remained fixed on her. "You seem nervous."
"I am."
"Scared of me?"
She shook her head.
"I don't even know you."
A soft chuckle escaped Charles. "Fair enough."
Oddly…the silence wasn't uncomfortable, it felt peaceful.
Charles studied her face. There wasn't an ounce of greed or calculation in her expression which was something he had grown accustomed to seeing in the women who approached him.
Instead, she looked…broken.
As though she'd spent the entire evening trying not to cry.
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
Ophelia looked away. "It's... a long story."
"You don't have to tell me." His gentle tone caught her off guard, no one had spoken to her like that in years.
Her lips curved into a tiny smile. "Thank you."
Seeing her smile made something inside Charles soften, without thinking, he reached out. His fingertips brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face.
The simple touch made Ophelia freeze and their eyes locked.
Charles wasn't sure whether it was the strange dizziness clouding his judgment or the quiet vulnerability in front of him.
All he knew was that he couldn't seem to look away. Slowly and almost asking for permission...he cupped her cheek.
Ophelia didn't move, she only stared at him with wide eyes.
His thumb gently brushed away the tear stain still lingering beneath her eye. "No one should cry on a night like this," he murmured.
Something inside Ophelia cracked and without realizing it, she leaned into his warmth.
Charles lowered his head. Their foreheads touched first and then their lips met in a slow, tender kiss.
There was no urgency, it was just two strangers carrying wounds they didn't yet understand.
Ophelia forgot all her worries just for a minute and all she could think about was how safe she unexpectedly felt in the arms of the man before her.
The next morning…
Warm morning sunlight slipped through the curtains. Ophelia stirred first, then she blinked slowly before realizing she wasn't alone.
A familiar warmth rested beside her. Turning her head, she found Charles still asleep.
The duvet covered them both, exposing only his broad shoulders and peaceful face.
For several moments...she simply admired him. He was impossibly handsome. Without the stern expression he'd worn the previous night, he looked younger... almost gentle.
A small smile tugged at her lips. "I guess... this is my husband now," she whispered to herself.
The thought didn't frighten her. Surprisingly…it comforted her. Perhaps marriage wouldn't be so terrible after all.
Trying not to wake him, she carefully reached for her phone resting on the bedside table. The moment the screen lit up...her smile disappeared.
Thirty-seven missed calls….Twenty-two unread messages.
Most were from Marcus,others from servants, even Helen had sent several.
Her heartbeat quickened. She opened Marcus's messages first.
Where are you?
Why aren't you in your fiancé's suite?
Answer your phone immediately!
Her stomach twisted. Confused, she opened Helen's messages. The first few were mocking voice notes she ignored. Then one message made her blood run cold.
How does it feel knowing your future husband is an ugly old man?
Another followed.
Did you finally meet that wrinkled monster? Don't tell me you cried all night.
Ophelia's fingers trembled.
“Ugly… Old man?”
Her breathing became uneven. Slowly… She turned her head toward the sleeping man beside her.
Charles wasn't old, not even close. He looked like he was in his early thirties.
Her eyes widened.
"What the" The realization struck her like lightning. "Oh... my..."
Her breathing turned frantic. "This isn't... this isn't the right room?" She stumbled out of bed, nearly tripping over the sheets. Her heart hammered violently against her ribs. "I... I spent the night with the wrong man."
Panic consumed every ounce of reason she had left. Desperate for answers, her gaze darted around the luxurious suite.
Her eyes landed on an elegant mahogany desk. A leather wallet rested beside several neatly arranged documents.
She rushed over and one black business card caught her attention.
Charles Montgomery, the CEO, Montgomery Global Holdings
The name alone stole the air from her lungs.
Charles...
Her eyes grew impossibly wide.
Helen had spent months talking about him…the man she desperately wanted to marry. The billionaire every socialite dreamed of….the man who had rejected countless women without a second glance.
Ophelia's entire body began trembling. "Oh my God..."
She had mistaken the room and somehow she had spent the night with the one man Helen had always wanted.
A soft movement behind her made her freeze.
Charles shifted in his sleep.
Ophelia's heart nearly stopped. "I have to leave." Grabbing her shoes and handbag, she rushed toward the door as quietly as she could.
The moment it clicked shut behind her
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