To cover up the worst scandal of her life, she entered into a contract marriage with the man known as the “Butcher of the Azure Sea.”
Her plan was simple: collect a hefty divorce settlement and walk away.
But… this man has no intention of ending their contract.
—
“If I may be so bold, Miss Priestley.”
Wilhelmina Priestley had the worst reputation in high society.
That was the first thing he said in response to her proposal for a marriage contract.
“I believe what you need is the sort of sedative that ladies of high society commonly seek these days. If you happen not to have any on hand, shall I have some prepared for you?”
“…If I may offer you just one piece of advice, Your Highness.”
A gentle tone.
A smile without even a hint of malice.
And yet, the hostility behind it was unmistakable.
Facing all of that, Wilhelmina said,
“Next time, you can just ask me if I’m crazy. No need to waste your time.”
—
It was the worst possible beginning, but in the end, the two of them boarded the only track available to achieve their respective goals.
The journey toward their destination went surprisingly smoothly.
Until—
“There can be no divorce between us.”
On the day their contract was supposed to end, a bombshell exploded.
And it came from the very man she had believed to be her ally, right inside the train that had been running so smoothly.
“Because a serious breach of contract has been discovered, we cannot terminate the agreement just yet.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“It means that one of us has failed to remain faithful to the terms of the contract.”
Wilhelmina felt that something in the eyes of her partner—who had been practically perfect until now—was gleaming with madness.
A strange chill ran down her spine.
It must have been her imagination.
“And that person is—”
“Me.”
It didn’t seem like her imagination anymore.
“Therefore, in order to ensure that we fulfill this contract safely and as quickly as possible, I am asking you to permit me to fulfill my duties as your husband.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying, Your Highness.”
“Wilhelmina, what I’m saying is…”
Cassian smiled.
The way one might look upon something pitiful and helpless.
Like a predator gazing at fragile prey before it, allowing itself a moment of indulgence.
“I’m saying that you and I need to share a bed.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but… have you lost your mind?”
They had been married for exactly six months.
And perhaps that was the only possible response from a bride being asked to share a bed with her husband for the first time.
