Chapter 3

I sent every cent to the bank.

A minute later, an email confirmed that the foreclosure process had been suspended. My mother’s bakery was safe.

At six, Adrian arrived in a gray sedan that looked as if it had survived two divorces and a minor war.

The scratch across its passenger door was impossible to miss.

He stepped out and surveyed the two suitcases and three boxes waiting outside the bakery.

“Is that everything you own?”

“Everything I need.”

I lifted the box containing my baking equipment. Adrian took it from me before I reached the car.

“I can carry my own things.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

He placed it in the trunk beside my suitcases.

His grandmother’s trust might have money, but Adrian clearly wasn’t living like a wealthy man. His car was old, and he had described himself as an administrative employee in his family’s hospitality business.

Family money wasn’t the same as personal money.

On the drive, Adrian explained how he expected us to handle expenses.

“I’ll cover the apartment and utilities. Make a list of anything else you need.”

“I’ll pay half the groceries and household supplies.”

“That isn’t necessary.”

“Neither was marrying me. We did it anyway.”

His jaw tightened.

“I can afford groceries, Nora.”

“And I can afford half of them. Marriage didn’t make me unemployed.”

He glanced at me before returning his attention to the road.

“My bakery has a steady income,” I added. “If your job ever becomes unstable, I can carry more of our expenses for a while.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

He answered too quickly.

Men who were secure in their jobs didn’t usually react as though unemployment were a forbidden subject.

I decided not to push.

His apartment was in a quiet residential building twenty minutes from the bakery. It had two bedrooms, a clean kitchen, and furniture that looked expensive without being flashy.

It was comfortable.

It was also almost completely lifeless.

There were no photographs, plants, books, or decorations. The refrigerator contained bottled water and nothing else. One coffee cup stood in the cupboard.

“Do you actually live here?” I asked.

“I sleep here.”

“Those aren’t the same thing.”

Adrian carried my suitcases into the guest room.

“This room is yours. I won’t enter without permission.”

I tested the lock.

“If locking it makes you feel safer, use it,” he said.

The answer surprised me.

While carrying my last box inside, I caught my heel on the threshold. Adrian’s arm closed around my waist before I fell.

For one breath, my back was pressed against his chest.

Then he released me.

“Next time, let me carry the heavy boxes.”

“Next time, ask before grabbing your wife.”

His gaze held mine.

“Noted.”

He showed me the kitchen and placed a black credit card on the counter.

“For household expenses.”

I pushed it back.

“We agreed that you wouldn’t buy my cooperation.”

“It’s for food, not cooperation.”

“We’ll each pay half.”

He looked as if no one had ever argued with him over grocery money.

Finally, he returned the card to his wallet.

The doorbell rang.

A nervous-looking man stood outside holding a garment bag.

“Your suit for tomorrow, sir.”

As Adrian reached for it, a black metal card slipped from the pocket and landed near my feet.

I picked it up.

VALE GRAND HOTEL

OWNER ACCESS

“Why does an employee have owner access?”

“I manage confidential matters for the owner.”

The explanation was possible.

The deliveryman’s expression suggested it wasn’t complete.

“Sir, the board is already—”

“That will be all, Daniel.”

The man stopped talking and left.

I looked from the card to my new husband.

“What board?”

Adrian closed the apartment door.