Bound to Him

Chapter 6: Not Just a Pretty Face

By the time Cedric came out of the bathroom, Miranda was sitting against the headboard, reading the proposal with unusual seriousness.

Her silk slip dress had not survived the night in perfect order. The hem was slightly twisted, revealing a long stretch of smooth, pale leg. She sat with her legs crossed loosely, her hair falling over one shoulder, eyes fixed on the pages in her hand.

Cedric paused.

For a moment, his gaze lowered.

Then he looked away and continued buttoning his shirt.

Miranda heard him but did not lift her head.

“Is Aurelia planning to build a designer hotel?”

“Mm.”

Cedric fastened the top button of his shirt and reached for his watch.

Miranda said nothing more.

She continued flipping through the proposal.

She was the only girl in her generation of the Vale family. Her parents had passed away early, but her uncles and aunts had spoiled her without restraint. After she married into the Kane family, her position at the top of Ashbourne’s socialite circle became even more secure.

In the eyes of most people, her life was simple.

Attend private parties.

Fly around the world on vacation.

Buy couture, jewelry, handbags, and whatever else she wanted.

A life set permanently on easy mode.

Perhaps no one remembered that she had actually graduated from one of the best interior design programs in the world.

She was not just a brainless decorative vase who knew only how to shop.

“I remember you studied interior design,” Cedric said suddenly. “Interested?”

Miranda finally looked up.

She stared at him for several seconds.

She had not expected this cheap husband of hers to remember that.

For a brief moment, a small spark of joy rose in her chest. She quietly hid it and began preparing the proper tone in her mind.

She could not appear too eager.

She had to make it seem as if she was reluctantly granting him the honor of receiving her professional opinion.

But before the princess could open her noble mouth, Cedric continued, “When the hotel is almost complete, I can have someone take you there for an early tour.”

Miranda blinked.

“A tour?”

Cedric looked at her. “What else? Were you planning to participate in the design?”

His answer came without hesitation.

“No. The hotel is not a place for you to practice.”

Miranda’s back straightened at once.

“The gala last night was designed by me.”

Cedric paused.

Then he turned his head and looked at her.

“So that was your design.”

His tone was calm.

Too calm.

Almost enlightened.

And far too meaningful.

Miranda narrowed her eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m even more certain you shouldn’t be involved.”

He put on his watch slowly, his expression perfectly composed.

The verdict was delivered.

Miranda had already felt a little guilty about the gala design, but hearing him say it out loud made heat rise to her ears. She sat up straighter, her voice lifting by several degrees.

“That was not my real standard!”

Cedric’s brows moved slightly.

He did not speak, but his expression seemed to say he was willing to listen to her defend herself.

The truth was that the gala had originally been planned around a “round table” theme, echoing Zero Degree’s first issue ten years ago. Miranda had already finished the drawings when the publishing group and a sponsor suddenly had a disagreement.

The budget was cut.

Fashion could lack many things.

Money was not one of them.

Zero Degree did not want to simplify the event, and the publishing group did not want to increase the budget. After a week of arguing, they finally reached a barely acceptable compromise: combine the tenth anniversary dinner with a charity event originally planned for the next quarter and move it forward.

Once charity became the main label, the original fashion concept no longer worked.

That meant Miranda’s entire design plan had to be overturned.

Miranda hated sudden changes.

She also hated troublesome clients.

The last time she had personally accepted a design project was two years ago, for Chris Zhou’s early spring runway show in Milan. This time, if not for Claire, she would never have taken on Zero Degree’s mess of an event.

And then, right before the gala, they dared ask her to redo everything.

At the time, Miranda had hung up on the editor-in-chief without the slightest hesitation.

Her original intention had been simple.

Quit.

Let whoever wanted the job do it.

But Claire had begged her, coaxed her, and nearly cried. In the end, Miranda still redid the plan.

The problem was that time had been too tight. Starting over under that kind of pressure meant the final result was inevitably safe and uninspired.

Luxurious, yes.

Elegant enough, yes.

But without character.

Miranda herself had not been satisfied with the venue last night.

She wanted to explain all of this.

But when the words reached her mouth, she suddenly realized that excuses were still excuses. No matter what the reason was, the final result had not met her own standard.

Her lips opened and closed.

In the end, nothing came out.

She deflated slightly and sat on the bed with her knees tucked beneath her.

Cedric had already finished dressing and was ready to leave.

Seeing that she had failed to produce a convincing argument, he did not seem surprised.

His gaze faded a little.

“Kneeling before me won’t help,” he said lightly. “You might as well crawl to Saint Aurelia’s Cathedral and pray for a miracle. Perhaps heaven will be moved.”

Miranda stared at him.

For a second, she was too shocked to speak.

Was this something a man was supposed to say to his wife?

Cedric picked up his phone and walked toward the door.

“Rest. I have work.”

Then he left.

The bedroom door closed behind him with a soft click.

Miranda sat there for three seconds.

Then she grabbed a pillow and threw it at the door.

“Cedric Kane, you heartless bastard!”

The pillow hit the door and slid pathetically to the floor.

No response came from outside.

Of course there was no response.

Cedric Kane had probably already thrown everything that had happened in this bedroom out of his mind the moment he stepped away from her.

Miranda sat on the bed, breathing hard.

Then her gaze slowly dropped back to the proposal in her lap.

Aurelia Group Designer Hotel Development Proposal.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the paper.

Fine.

He thought she was only good at shopping.

He thought she was a spoiled little vase, pretty but useless.

He thought his precious hotel was too important for her to touch.

Then she would prove him wrong.

Not because she wanted his approval.

Absolutely not.

Miranda Vale did not need Cedric Kane’s approval.

She only wanted him to open his cold, arrogant eyes and see clearly that she was not some decorative wife placed in his house for display.

She had talent.

She had standards.

And if he refused to let her near the project, then she would find another way.

Outside the window, the sunlight grew brighter.

Miranda looked down at the proposal again, the anger in her eyes slowly turning into determination.

Cedric Kane had no idea what he had just awakened.

And when he finally realized it, she would make sure he regretted every word.