Chapter 2
Cordelia’s mind went blank as a warm chest pressed against her back. She could feel the steady, powerful beat of his heart. The man above her held her firmly within his arms, and though she tried to take a deep breath, her frozen limbs refused to relax.
Suddenly, he stopped.
“Do you know who I am?”
Cordelia hesitated.
He must have meant that he was her husband, and this was their wedding night. As husband and wife, it was only natural for them to be together. But Cordelia, interpreting his words literally, timidly answered, “I do… You’re Marcus Grist.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Marcus Grist… Should he be pleased that she at least knew his name? Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t Marcus Grist—and she wasn’t Yelena Jenner.
From the moment she stepped into the room, he knew she was just a substitute. There was no way the true Jenner heiress would ever marry a villager like him. It didn’t matter though; she was a stand-in bride, and he was pretending to be someone else. It was a fair exchange.
“Marcus…”
Her voice snapped him from his thoughts. Looking down, he met her wide, glistening eyes. Her shy, soft expression stirred something in him—something deep and unfamiliar.
“I’m sorry, I’m just too nervous,” Cordelia whispered, her voice trembling as she reached up to loop her arms around his neck. “You’re my husband… there’s no reason we can’t… We can start.”
Tiny beads of sweat dotted the delicate bridge of her nose. She leaned closer, but her body trembled uncontrollably.
His heart skipped a beat. Just as Cordelia was about to close the gap between them and kiss him, he suddenly grasped her hand and gently pulled away.
Cordelia froze, confusion and embarrassment flooding her as her blush deepened.
“Forget it,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re tired. Let’s just sleep.”
“Marcus, I—”
“You need time to adjust. Once you’re comfortable with the idea of having a husband, we’ll take things further. I won’t push you.”
With that, he turned away, leaving Cordelia lost in her thoughts, her gaze lingering on his bare back. She watched him carefully as his steady breathing filled the room.
He looked different when he slept. His profile was sculpted, strong, with sharp brows and a jawline that seemed almost carved from stone. His arm, muscular and toned, was tucked under his head, and his well-built body made Cordelia’s cheeks burn with a heat she couldn’t ignore.
Her heart fluttered, and quickly, she turned away. Sleep eventually overtook her, but the echoes of mockery from her stepmother and Yelena still lingered in her mind.
They had told her the Grists were family friends, that there was a legitimate marriage pact. But the truth was, the Grists had fallen from grace and were now living in the countryside. The Grist son, Marcus, was infamous for his reckless behavior and often found himself at the police station.
“How could I possibly marry a thug?” Yelena had scoffed. “You’re better off. Your mother’s been with countless men, and your brother is a bastard! Someone like you deserves a thug.”
“Think about it, Cordelia,” her father had said coldly. “I’ll pay you as long as you marry Marcus Grist in Yelena’s place. With that money, you can help your mother.”
Her stepmother had insulted her further. “It’s an honor for you to marry as the second heiress of the Jenners. Don’t be ungrateful, you little whore!”
Cordelia jolted awake, her heart racing as she realized the sun had already risen. The man beside her was gone.