The Morning After
611 Words
ANN
Ann woke before the sun.
For a moment, she forgot where she was. Then the unfamiliar ceiling, the silence, and the weight on her left hand reminded her.
She was married.
The ring felt heavier in daylight.
She sat up slowly, smoothing the sheets, her nerves already tight with anticipation. Nia arrived soon after, efficient and quiet, guiding Ann into a soft blue dress and informing her politely, firmly that breakfast was served at eight sharp.
With her husband.
Ann’s stomach twisted.
The dining room was vast and elegant, bathed in morning light. Nico sat at the head of the long table, already dressed in a dark suit, cufflinks in place, posture perfect. He looked as composed as if nothing in his life had changed.
As if he hadn’t married a stranger the day before.
“Good morning,” she said softly.
His eyes lifted to her.
“Sit,” he replied, gesturing to the chair beside him not across.
Her pulse quickened as she obeyed.
Breakfast was served quietly. The clink of cutlery echoed louder than it should have. Ann tried to eat, but Nico’s presence made every movement feel deliberate, observed.
“You didn’t sleep,” he said suddenly.
She startled. “I—no. Not much.”
“Routine will help,” he said, sipping his coffee. “You’ll adjust.”
She nodded, then hesitated. “May I… walk around the estate today?”
He glanced at her, unreadable. “With an escort.”
“I won’t go far,” she said quickly. “I just want to see it.”
A pause.
Then, “Fine. Stay within the inner grounds.”
Relief washed through her.
Later, the air outside felt like freedom. The gardens were immaculate wide paths, trimmed hedges, fountains whispering softly. Ann walked slowly, breathing deeply, letting the tension ease from her shoulders.
She didn’t hear him approach.
“You walk like you’re afraid of being noticed,” Nico said behind her.
She turned sharply. “I didn’t realize—”
“I dismissed the escort.”
Her heart raced. “Oh.”
He stood too close again. Always too close. His presence was overwhelming outdoors, even more than inside. The sunlight caught the sharp lines of his face, the steel of his eyes.
“You should lift your head when you walk,” he said. “This is your home now.”
The word home sent a strange shiver through her.
“I’m not used to taking space,” she admitted.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. Just briefly. But she noticed.
“Get used to it,” he said quietly.
A breeze stirred, lifting a strand of her hair across her face. Before she could stop herself, she tucked it behind her ear.
Nico’s hand moved first.
He caught her wrist mid-air.
The contact was brief but electric.
Her breath hitched.
His thumb brushed her pulse, slow and deliberate. He was watching her closely now, his jaw tight, eyes darkening.
“Careful,” he murmured. “You forget yourself.”
“I—I’m sorry,” she whispered.
His hand didn’t move away immediately.
For one suspended moment, the world narrowed to the space between them—the heat of his body, the firmness of his grip, the awareness humming through her veins.
Then he released her.
“This doesn’t happen again,” he said, stepping back. “Understand that.”
He turned and walked away without another word.
Ann stood frozen, her wrist still warm, her heart racing far too fast.
She had wanted freedom.
Instead, she had discovered something far more dangerous.
She might be attracted to her dangerous husband.
- Writer
