Governing the She-Devil

3 Bedroom

"Are you all right?"

Saint was startled for a good second. Her emotions were still fuming mad. She looked in the direction of the voice and raised her brow. "Why will I not be fine?" she retorted.

"You look pale," Sandro said calmly. He looked at her face as he scrutinized every crease of emotion. He will admit that Saint has the face of an angel. It suits her name well, just don't let her utter a single word, and all expectations will fall in defeat.

Her thin, plump lips stretched in a sweet smile as her eyes twinkled in delight. "I'm tired. Which room should I take?" she asked innocently as she roamed her eyes around the line of doors. The manor is quite large. It can almost fit 50 people. The others had probably gone to their rooms.

Sandro put his hand on the small of her back, guiding her up the grand staircase. They thread the stairs without talking. Saint finally felt her tiredness from their trip and the things that had unravelled, so she decided to postpone her teasing for tonight.

After a few minutes of walking, they reached a tall Narra door. Sandro opened it with a slight push. They were greeted by a cosy yet masculine aura of the room. The whole theme of the house followed inside the room with a little bit of modernity, opposing the antique-looking manor.

A very family scent invaded her nostrils as she took a step inside. "This is your room," she said matter of factly.

"Our room," he responded.

Her eyes widened in shock. Will we share a room?

"The bathroom's over there." Sandro pointed to the door on his right. "You'll find another door leading to the walk-in closet. All your stuff is in there. I asked the butler to transfer all your things yesterday." His eyes lingered on her speechless face. Does she expect to live in her condo after getting married to him?

"We'll live here? For good?" she almost stuttered, to which he answered with a nod. "Same bed?" He nodded again. She thought that they were just visiting.

After a while, she shrugged and sashayed towards the bathroom. They had already shared a night. There's no problem with sharing a bed.

Sandro sat on a swivel chair in the corner of the room. On the table were papers he needed to review and sign. It's been a week since he last checked pending work. He grabbed a couple of documents and started reading them.

It only took a couple of minutes for him to smell a rose-scented aroma coming from the opened bathroom door. He panned his sight and darted into Saint in flimsy, white lingerie. He cleared his throat and urged his focus once again.

Saint sashayed towards the king-sized bed and sat for a moment. The bathroom and closet did contain her stuff. It was only the sleeping area that didn't have her touch. Her eyes roamed, taking in all the furniture and design of the space. One thing that she liked most was the authentic wooden floorboards with dark stains.

In a small corner were a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf and a large, live-edged mahogany table where Sandro was seriously looking at some papers. She assumed that he was working. She looked intently at his serious face. It was one of those faces that people never get tired of looking at. His face does not possess a generic look, but it sure as hell handsome.

His cuffs were untidily folded up to his elbows, while two buttons were open, showing a full view of his chest. His arms flexed as he wrote something.

Saint couldn't help but give a playful smile. She walked softly towards him, slowly placing her hands on his shoulders—casually squeezing his tensed muscles. "Won't you join me in bed?" She whispered teasingly. She felt his body get rigid and relaxed.

"You go to bed first. I have to finish this before dawn." There was no sign of emotion. Is he rejecting her? She snatched her hands back in defeat and stumped her way back to bed. She lifted the heavy duvet and drowned herself. Not that she wanted to sleep beside him. Annoyance lulled her to sleep.

A soft waft of air on her cheek woke her up. Once her eyes opened, she saw Sandro hugging her tightly—their faces an inch close. He was not wearing a shirt, which made her giggle. Her hands softly touched the highest points of his face, going down his clavicle as it lay flat on his chest.

If she hadn't raised her point of view, she would never have known that Sandro was watching her molest him in his sleep. "Wakey-wakey?" She chimed awkwardly.

"What were you doing?" he asked in a husky voice, fresh from sleep. He didn't remove his hand that was hugging her tightly.

"Nothing. Shall we get up now?" Her cheeks flushed red. What was she thinking?

"Lay with me for some minutes."

It was almost noon when they went downstairs to eat brunch. Family members had finished their breakfast earlier and are now out of sight. They ate in peace. Only the clinking of their utensils could be heard.

"I'll be at the city hall all day. Call me if you need anything." Those were Sandro's last words before he went out the door. Is he treating me like a kid?

One moment, he's a gentleman—the next thing, he's as cold as ice.

Saint quickly stood up from the sofa and drove to her condo. The place stayed the same apart from some missing personal items which she found in Sandro's room. Her condo is a studio-type, minimalistic, Japanese-inspired unit. Their ancestral house was only a few minutes away, but she refused to live with her father.

She lay flat on the floor and stared at the ceiling for so long that she could not take notice. Her eyes drooped until they finally closed for a nap.