MANHANDLED

AFTER THE WEDDING

The car purred to a stop after what felt like an hour. Jennifer had dozed off during the drive back to what Damien had earlier called “his death.” Her eyes fluttered open when she noticed the lack of motion the engine had been turned off. Before her stood a fortress of glass and light. She hadn’t even realised Damien had left the car until she saw him opening her door like a gentleman. The shock on her face was evident why was he doing that? Just minutes ago, he had been anything but gentle. In fact, he hadn’t been kind to her all day.

Stepping out of the car, her white gown still looked pristine. The scene felt surreal like something straight out of a fairytale. She could see the villa’s gate not too far away, lit by bright streetlights. Beautiful flowers and trees lined the path from the gate to the house.

Three supercars gleamed beneath the embedded driveway lights —one silver, one chartreuse, the last a ghostly pearl white. They were lined up perfectly, like sentinels.

The house was structured in three broad tiers, each one jutting out like a sharp jawline. Everything was clad in whitened steel and smooth concrete, softened only by the warm amber glow from within. Floor-to-ceiling glass wrapped around every room. It made sense that the glass was matte black rather than transparent—considering his line of work, or perhaps he simply valued his privacy.

“Ahem.” Clearing his throat, Damien said, “Are you going to keep standing there gawking, or will you come in and get some rest?”

That’s when she realised he was already standing at the door of the house. Or so she thought until she saw him disappear inside without waiting for her.

‘I should have expected that,’ she thought as she walked gracefully towards the house.

The interior screamed wealth. White and black furniture, abstract paintings—everything was deliberate. For a bachelor, it was surprisingly well-organised and tasteful.

Damien kept wondering why she hadn’t moved from where she stood after coming in.

‘Is she not tired? I saw her yawn several times at the party. Why isn’t she coming upstairs?’

He stood at the top of the staircase, watching her until he could no longer hold back.

“Ehm… why are you just standing there, staring like all this is new to you? I’m beginning to think your father was stingy with all his wealth, seeing how impressed you are by this small house. I must say… I’m a little offended. I’m the only thing in here you should be staring at so intently.”

He raised an eyebrow as he spoke, watching her from above. She avoided eye contact, and he didn’t know why. Unbeknownst to him, her face was flushed red from his words. She tried to hide it by pretending to still take in the house.

‘Jennifer, look at anything but him,’ she chanted silently until his footsteps receded and a door closed upstairs.

Finally, he was gone.

Letting out a deep breath, her hand came to rest on her chest as she sank into the black couch. She had underestimated how tired she was. Before she realised it, she had fallen asleep on the couch like a sleeping angel washed ashore.

In his room, Damien had just taken a shower. The house was eerily quiet. No footsteps, no movement. He wondered where Jennifer was—she hadn’t come to the room. He stepped out wearing striped forest green and black pyjamas trousers, a black shirt, and a matching robe. She wasn’t in the hallway, so he checked the rooms upstairs, then finally headed downstairs.

There she was—sound asleep on the couch.

‘She looks peaceful when she sleeps,’ he thought as he stood over her.

He hesitated—should he wake her and take her to the room or just let her sleep?

The decision was made when he returned with a blanket, gently covered her, switched off the lights in the sitting room, and returned to bed.

Morning came. The sky was clear, and the servants were already at work. The chef was in the kitchen. Damien sat at the dining table, scrolling on his phone and eating lunch while Axel oversaw everything.

The curtains were drawn, and sunlight streamed through the glass window, disturbing Jennifer’s sleep. Her eyebrows creased in protest. The light wasn’t going away. Then she heard faint footsteps—someone was moving about.

Suddenly, she remembered where she was.

Her eyes flew open. She was startled to see people moving about the house, and then embarrassment washed over her as she remembered she had slept on the couch. The staff must have seen her.

Before she could react, Axel approached.

“Good morning, Mrs Stone. I hope it wasn’t our moving about that woke you? I would hate that to be the case,” he said, looking concerned.

“No, not at all. I just tend to wake up early,” she replied with a gentle smile.

From across the room, someone interrupted her.

“Are you sure you tend to wake up early?” Damien asked, still scrolling on his phone. “Because it’s already 1 p.m. If that’s your idea of early, then I must not sleep at all.”

He looked up from his phone, smirking.

Jennifer’s face turned crimson. She wished the floor would swallow her whole. Axel noticed her discomfort and stepped in to change the subject.

“I must apologise, ma’am. I’m the Stones’ butler my name is Axel.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Axel,” she said with a small smile.

“Ma’am, the table has just been set. You may join Sir Damien for lunch,” he added, nodding towards the dining area where Damien still sat, pretending not to be listening.

Jennifer glanced at Damien, then back at Axel. “Thank you, Axel, but I’m not hungry yet.”

“Why bother, Axel? She tends not to eat lunch early. Isn’t that right, my darling wife?” Damien said, sipping his wine while staring at her.

She could’ve sworn he smiled into his cup.

“No, Damien. Like I said, I’m just not hungry.”

And then her stomach betrayed her—a loud rumble echoed through the room.

‘Why does everything go wrong when he’s around? Is this karma?’ she thought in silent horror.

She could feel his gaze boring into her, but she refused to meet his eyes. Damien smirked triumphantly and continued eating, pretending not to be the cause of her humiliation. Axel gave Damien a subtle look, pleading with him to stop teasing her, as he has been the sole subject of Damien’s taunt for a long time.

“Ma’am, you can head upstairs to take your bath. I’ll send the maids shortly to help with anything you need. Would you like me to send your food to your room?”

“That would be great, thank you,” she said gratefully.

She stood up still in her wedding dress and walked towards the stairs.

“Erm, ma’am… the room is the second door on the right,” Axel called after her kindly.

She smiled genuinely at him in appreciation.

The room was clearly the master bedroom. Beautiful abstract paintings adorned the walls. A king-sized bed was laid with a white and black striped bedspread and topped with a black fur duvet. The furniture, all black, blended elegantly with the design. The room was so spacious it could fit two more king-sized beds without feeling cramped. Simple, yet it breathed elegance.

She decided to freshen up but paused when she saw a jacuzzi bathtub. A relaxing bubble bath sounded heavenly.

Later, she stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a white towel, another one tied around her hair. She had nothing to wear—her clothes hadn’t arrived. Hoping to find something suitable, she wandered further into the room.

At the end of a small corridor, she discovered a transparent glass sliding door. A massive walk-in wardrobe lay beyond, styled like a boutique with sections for clothing, shoes, and more.

She skimmed through and chose a casual outfit—a navy-blue T-shirt and brown shorts. Hair tied in a messy bun, she walked back into the bedroom, only to find Damien already there.

His eyes scanned her from head to toe before he spoke.

“Why are you coming out of there? And whose clothes are you wearing?”

“I’m pretty sure you already know whose clothes these are, considering I just came out of your closet,” she replied coolly. “Don’t worry, I’m only borrowing them for now. My clothes haven’t arrived yet.”

She walked past him and sat on the edge of the bed.