The CEO's Betrayed Bride

CHAPTER FOUR: THE UNEXPECTED SOFTNESS

CHAPTER FOUR: THE UNEXPECTED SOFTNESS

Benjamin's POV

I stood in my home office staring at reports I couldn't focus on, thinking about my wife in the next room. This was becoming a problem.

When I proposed the contract marriage to Judith, I thought it would be easy. Find a woman who needed help, offer a business arrangement, secure my inheritance, and move on with my life. Simple, clean, and emotionally uncomplicated.

But Judith Morgan was turning out to be far more complicated than I anticipated.

She had been living in my penthouse for three weeks now, and I found myself noticing things about her that I shouldn't care about. The way she hummed while cooking in the kitchen late at night. How she left little thank-you notes for the cleaning staff. The sound of her laugh when she talked on the phone with friends.

I noticed she still worked her catering jobs even though she didn't need to anymore. My assistant Joy mentioned that Judith insisted on maintaining her independence and refused to take money from me beyond what was in the contract. Most women in her position would have immediately started spending my credit cards, but not Judith.

It made me respect her more than I wanted to.

The real problem started after the gala last week. I kissed her in front of everyone, and I told myself it was just for show. But that was a lie. I kissed her because seeing Matthew touch her arm made me want to break his hand.

The possessiveness I felt surprised me. Judith wasn't really mine. She was a temporary arrangement, a solution to a problem. Yet when that pathetic excuse for a man tried to apologize to her, something primal and protective surged through me.

I had been married to Judith for less than a month, but the thought of anyone hurting her made my blood boil.

My phone buzzed with a message from my investigator. He had found more evidence about Richard Westbrook's involvement in my parents' accident. I should have felt triumphant, but instead I felt hollow. Revenge had consumed me for five years, but lately I found myself thinking about it less and less.

I heard footsteps in the hallway and knew without looking that it was Judith. I had memorized the sound of her walking, the rhythm of her movements through the penthouse. That realization should have alarmed me, but instead it felt oddly natural.

She knocked softly on my office door, and I called for her to come in. She entered wearing pajama pants and one of my old t-shirts that she must have taken from the laundry. Seeing her in my clothes did something strange to my chest.

Judith held a plate with a sandwich and fruit, and she set it on my desk without saying anything. She did this every night when I worked late, bringing me food because she worried I wasn't eating properly. No one had cared about things like that since my mother died.

I thanked her and asked why she was still awake. She shrugged and said she couldn't sleep, then she surprised me by sitting in the chair across from my desk. Usually she just dropped off the food and left.

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, and I found myself studying her face. She had freckles across her nose that I never noticed before. Her eyes were brown with little gold flecks that caught the light. She was beautiful in a natural, understated way that grew on you slowly.

Judith asked what I was working on, and I hesitated before telling her about my investigation into Westbrook. I didn't talk about this with anyone except my lawyer Solomon, but somehow I wanted Judith to know. I wanted her to understand why securing the company mattered so much.

I explained how my parents died in a car accident five years ago, and how I suspected Westbrook had orchestrated it because my father refused to sell him shares of Sinclair Enterprises. The police ruled it an accident, but I never believed that. My father was a careful driver, and the brake failure was too convenient.

Judith listened without interrupting, her expression soft with sympathy. When I finished, she did something unexpected. She reached across the desk and took my hand, squeezing it gently. The touch was warm and comforting, and I didn't pull away.

She told me she understood about losing parents too young. She said her father Franklin was her whole world, and when he died, she felt like she lost her anchor. Then Beatrice twisted everything and made Judith feel like she didn't deserve to grieve properly.

I squeezed her hand back, and we sat there connected across my desk. This felt dangerous, this sharing of pain and comfort. It went against every rule in our contract. But I couldn't make myself let go.

Judith asked if I ever took breaks from work, if I ever did things just for fun. The question caught me off guard because I honestly couldn't remember the last time I did something without a business purpose.

I told her I used to enjoy cooking with my mother when I was young. She taught me how to make pasta from scratch, and we would spend Sunday afternoons in the kitchen together. After she died, I never cooked again because it hurt too much to remember.

Judith's eyes lit up, and she suggested we cook together sometime. She said food had a way of healing old wounds, and maybe it would help me feel closer to my mother's memory instead of avoiding it.

The idea terrified me, but I found myself agreeing. Judith smiled so brightly that I felt something crack in the walls I had built around my heart.

She stood to leave, but I asked her to stay a little longer. I wasn't ready for her to go yet. Judith settled back in the chair and asked me to tell her about my mother, so I did.

I talked about how my mother was strong and kind, how she balanced my father's intensity with her warmth. I told Judith about Sunday dinners and family vacations and the way my mother always knew when something was bothering me. I hadn't spoken about her like this in years, and it felt like releasing pressure from a wound.

Judith shared stories about her father too. She talked about how Franklin taught her to cook, how they would experiment with recipes together in his restaurant kitchens. She described his laugh and his terrible jokes and the way he made everyone around him feel special.

We talked for two hours, sharing memories and grief and slowly healing together. When Judith finally went to bed, I sat alone in my office feeling lighter than I had in years.

This was definitely a problem. I was falling for my contract wife, and I had no idea how to stop it.

The next morning, I woke up with Judith on my mind, which was becoming a regular occurrence. I found her in the kitchen making breakfast, and the domestic scene made my chest tight.

She had tied her hair back and was humming while she flipped pancakes. She looked so at home in my space, so comfortable and right. I wanted to walk up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist, but I stayed in the doorway instead.

Judith turned and saw me watching her. She smiled and asked if I wanted coffee. I nodded and sat at the kitchen island while she poured me a cup, remembering exactly how I took it without asking.

These little things were killing me. The way she remembered my preferences, the way she fit into my life so seamlessly, the way she made my cold penthouse feel warm. This was supposed to be temporary, but I was starting to forget that.

My phone rang with a call from Solomon. He wanted to meet today to discuss new developments in the investigation. I agreed and hung up, then noticed Judith watching me with concern.

She asked if everything was okay, and I assured her it was just business. But she saw through my lie. She always did. Judith had a way of reading me that no one else could, like she saw past all my careful control.

I made a decision then. I asked Judith if she wanted to come with me to meet Solomon. The investigation involved her too since Westbrook was connected to Beatrice. She deserved to know what we were uncovering.

Judith looked surprised but pleased. She agreed immediately and went to get dressed. I watched her leave and realized I was getting used to including her in my life. More than used to it, I was starting to need it.

This contract marriage was supposed to protect my heart, but instead it was breaking down every defense I had. And the scariest part was that I wasn't sure I wanted to stop it anymore.