Khalid's POV
Sitting in my office chair, I tried to focus on the numbers in front of me. The quarterly reports. The contracts. The endless piles of signatures waiting for my attention.
But my mind?
It was somewhere else.
Alright, fine. It was on her.
Sofia.
We'd been married for two weeks now, and yet it felt like we were still strangers sharing the same air… barely. She slept in a different room, and I let her. Not because I didn't want her near me —God knows that's far from the truth — but because I needed to keep my distance before I crossed a line too soon.
Just looking at her made my blood heat. I didn't trust myself.
So I left the mansion before sunrise every day and came back after midnight. Let her think I was avoiding her if she wanted. The truth was, I was buying time. Preparing. Making sure when I finally gave her all my attention, there'd be no distractions — no business emergencies, no family drama.
She didn't choose this marriage. But I'd make sure she never regretted it.
"Mr. Black," Jude's voice broke through my thoughts. My personal assistant stood in the doorway, tablet in hand. "You have a meeting with a client at Emperor's Hotel in twenty minutes."
I stood, slipping on my black suit jacket. "Bring the files."
As I reached for my black mask, Jude gave me a knowing look. He was the only one who had ever seen my face without it. The rest of the world knew me as Mr. Black — the masked man, the one who stayed in the shadows.
---
Emperor's Hotel
The lobby smelled faintly of expensive cologne and old money. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, casting soft light over marble floors. I walked past the concierge without slowing, Jude at my side, the mask hiding most of my expression.
Our client, Mr. Cheng, was already waiting in the private dining room. He stood when I entered.
"Mr. Black," he greeted, his voice warm but careful. He'd heard the rumors — everyone had. That the masked Voss was dangerous, unpredictable… but always delivered results.
We sat. Drinks were poured. The conversation was sharp and precise at first — numbers, investments, shipping routes — but loosened after the second glass of whiskey.
"You know," Cheng said, leaning forward, "most men in your position would flaunt their name. You hide yours."
"It's not hiding," I said evenly. "It's control. The less they know, the more they underestimate me."
He chuckled. "And you like being underestimated?"
"I like winning," I corrected.
By the time the contract was signed, I'd secured a deal worth twice his opening offer. My head felt pleasantly heavy from the alcohol, but I wasn't drunk. Just warm. Calm. Ready to go home.
---
The mansion was quiet when I returned. Too quiet. But the lights were still on.
Then I saw her.
Sofia. Curled up on the couch, sleeping. A book still resting in her lap, her breathing slow and even. The loose strands of hair framing her face made her look softer, younger… like she wasn't carrying the weight of whatever past she had.
I set my suitcase down and crouched beside her. My hand moved on its own, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. She stirred slightly, her lips parting, and I smiled before I could stop myself.
She was my wife. Mrs. Voss. Even if she didn't quite feel like mine yet.
I slid one arm under her knees, the other behind her back, and lifted her easily. She shifted against my chest, unconsciously curling closer. The sound she made — barely a sigh — lodged itself somewhere in my chest.
I took her to her room, laying her gently on the bed.
One week. That's all I needed. One week away from City A, away from her walls and mine. I'd planned everything. She had no idea.
I leaned down and pressed a light kiss to her lips — just a whisper of what I wanted — before forcing myself to leave. A cold shower was the only way I was getting any sleep tonight.
---
The Next Morning
The first day of my week with her.
I was already in the kitchen when the sound of her footsteps reached me. I'd rolled my sleeves to the elbow, an apron tied loosely around my waist. Pancakes were sizzling in the pan, and the smell of fresh strawberries and sugar filled the air.
She stopped in the doorway, staring at me like I'd grown a second head.
"Wow," she said. "The Ice King can cook? Do you also do birthday parties and bar mitzvahs?"
I turned just enough to meet her eyes. "Good morning to you too, wife."
Her eyes narrowed. "Don't 'wife' me. This is the first time I've seen you in the kitchen. Are you lost? Should I call security?"
I smirked inwardly, turning back to the stove. "Sit. Breakfast will be ready in five minutes."
"Wow. Commands before coffee. Love that for me."
"You don't even drink coffee."
That made her blink. "How do you—?"
"I pay attention," I said simply, flipping the pancakes.
She muttered something about "creepy," and I let my lips twitch — not quite a smile. "Observant."
"Creepy."
"If I were creepy, you wouldn't be standing this close."
That made her step back with exaggerated drama. "Better?"
"Much. Now I can actually breathe."
She glared. "Rude."
"You asked."
She stayed, even though she pretended she wanted to leave. I could feel her eyes on me, and I won't lie — I liked it. She didn't know it yet, but this was just the beginning.
I plated the food and set it in front of her. "Eat."
Suspicion danced in her eyes. "You're not trying to poison me, right?"
"If I wanted to poison you, I wouldn't make it taste good first."
She rolled her eyes, but she still picked up the fork.
And as I watched her take that first bite, I thought…
One week.
Just her and me.
By the time it's over, Sofia Amari Voss won't just be my wife on paper — she'll be mine in every way that matters.