“Well… when there’s a need, both partners should pull their weight.”

“All right,” Maximilian Carter agreed.

“Let’s go.” He started toward the elevator.

Elizabeth Cox trailed after him, her cheeks hot with embarrassment, and stepped in behind him. Drenched head to toe, she looked like a tiny, rescued puppy. Maximilian—soaked designer suit and all—somehow still looked composed. Elegant. His natural poise and quiet dignity drew Elizabeth in, and she couldn’t help but feel pulled toward him.

Despite the strange circumstances, a small spark of hope flickered inside her. He was the only person who had thrown her a lifeline when she was drowning. No woman could remain immune to that—to someone offering her solace in the middle of hopelessness, even if they both had their own reasons.

“We’re here,” Maximilian said, stepping out and glancing back at Elizabeth, who was still lost in thought.

Elizabeth snapped out of it and hurried after him. As they stepped out of the elevator, she stared at the villa’s interior.

The soft gray tones gave the place a cool, refreshing feel—much like Maximilian himself. Yet every detail had been chosen with care, turning the house into a work of art. Captivating. Indulgent. It was Elizabeth’s first time inside a home this stunning.

“The guest room hasn’t been used. I’ll grab some bedding from my room. You should shower and change,” Maximilian instructed, handing her the suitcase.

His tone left no room for argument. Elizabeth nodded obediently. “All right,” she said softly, dragging the damaged suitcase toward the guest room.

The room was immaculate, with a new bed and sofa. After the cramped, converted storage space she called home, it felt almost unreal. Clean. Bright. Everything she’d ever dreamed of—and it even had a private bathroom.

Elizabeth was thrilled.

But when she opened the suitcase to find clothes, everything inside was soaked.

Maximilian glanced at her over his shoulder. “Everything’s wet?”

Elizabeth bit her lip in frustration. “Yes. I’ll try to dry them with a hairdryer.”

“I’ll bring you something,” Maximilian said, turning to leave.

Elizabeth watched him go, her heart racing. She felt impossibly warm, her damp clothes clinging to her like a second skin.

Soon, Maximilian returned and handed her one of his black shirts. “Use my room to shower. The guest room doesn’t have hot water or toiletries.”

Elizabeth looked up, her face wet and her eyes red, hesitating.

“Don’t catch a cold. I’ll wash your clothes,” Maximilian said. He pressed the shirt into her hands and picked up her clothes from the suitcase, handling the wet bundle with an ease that made her face burn even hotter.

Elizabeth wasn’t sure how to feel about Maximilian offering to wash her clothes. Holding the shirt, she hesitated—but then she remembered how gentlemanly he’d been and decided not to overthink it. They hadn’t even registered their marriage yet, and he was still being courteous.

But Elizabeth underestimated a man’s nature—or maybe Maximilian underestimated his own patience.

After loading her clothes and his shirt into the washer, Maximilian came back to find Elizabeth inching toward his room like a cautious turtle. His deep eyes narrowed slightly.

Stepping into Maximilian’s room, Elizabeth was awestruck by how spacious it was. The bedroom alone was the size of a three-bedroom apartment.

She stood there bewildered until Maximilian appeared behind her.

Before she could react, he guided her into the bathroom with one hand.

The door shut with a click, leaving Elizabeth in her wet clothes, staring at Maximilian in shock.

“What… what are you doing?”

The composed, elegantly dressed man now stood shirtless—and he was proposing a shared shower.

“To keep you from catching a cold, let’s shower together,” he said. His calm voice made Elizabeth blush and want to bolt.

She tried to move away, but he lifted her onto the sink, then stepped back just slightly, bracing himself on either side of her.

“Are you embarrassed?”

“No,” Elizabeth denied quickly.

Her hair was still dripping, her cheeks softly flushed. Maximilian stayed close, his presence overwhelming.

He touched her face. “You scratched and bit me yesterday. Wouldn’t it be fair for you to help me shower today?”

His voice carried a compelling allure. Elizabeth’s face flushed even more as she glanced at his chest. His body was tall and defined, water trailing over his skin. The bite marks she’d left were visible on his chest—a reminder of moments that had already passed.

Maybe because it was her first time this close to a man, Elizabeth didn’t know where to look. Her gaze flickered everywhere.

Especially when she saw the water droplets on his abs—the hard lines of muscle a testament to masculine energy. She had touched them. She remembered how they’d felt.

The air grew hotter. Elizabeth’s body warmed with it.

Maximilian watched her expressions keenly.

“Do I look better with my clothes off?” he teased.

Elizabeth blushed furiously, wishing she could disappear from embarrassment.

“I’m not answering that,” she said, covering her face.

But Maximilian lifted her under the shower.

Warm water cascaded over them, intensifying the heat spreading between them.

He guided her hand to his waistband and lowered his voice. “Help me with these.”

Elizabeth Cox knew there was no escape. Her eyes were damp, pleading, as she looked at Maximilian Carter. "Could we turn off the lights?" she whispered.

"Not a chance," Maximilian replied, the hint of a smirk playing at his lips as he took in her flushed face.

God, she wanted to bolt. Her fingers hovered over the front of his trousers, but she couldn't summon the nerve to undo them. Maximilian just watched her, patient, his gaze steady.

The bathroom was thick with steam, the light softened into a hazy glow. Elizabeth felt painfully awkward. The hot water had chased the chill from her body, but her clothes clung to her skin, uncomfortable and damp. She looked up at Maximilian, hoping he might let her off the hook. He looked infuriatingly calm, his dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her shyly look away.

Only then did Elizabeth notice the blood sliding down Maximilian's arm. "You're bleeding. Did this happen earlier, when you got hit?" she asked, lifting his muscular arm to inspect it.

Mixed with the hot water, the blood ran down his arm in thin, alarming streams. Maximilian glanced down and nodded. "Yeah. I'll need a little help from you."

Guilt twisted in Elizabeth's stomach. If he hadn't been protecting her, that piece of metal would never have struck him. She hadn't even realized he'd pulled her in with that same arm.

"Then let me wash you first," she offered, her cheeks flushed with concern.

"All right," Maximilian said, his gaze softening as he watched her.

As Elizabeth undid the button and pulled down his zipper, heat rushed into her face and burned all the way to her ears.

She eased his pants down, took several deep breaths, and cautiously lowered his underwear. The moment her soap-slick hands touched his skin, Maximilian tensed. His eyes shut, and a low groan slipped out before he could stop it.

He'd meant to tease her. Instead, he was the one getting caught up.

A few minutes later, Elizabeth watched him grab a towel, wrap it around his waist, and step out. Her face burned, but she didn't dare say a word.

She thought about covering her face in embarrassment but stopped herself. Her hands had just touched places they'd never touched before.

"This is so awkward," Elizabeth muttered, clenching her fists and splashing the water. The whole situation was more thrilling than a roller-coaster ride—and ten times more embarrassing.

She took a few deep breaths, stripped off her clothes, and washed her hair and body in a hurry.

After drying her hair, Elizabeth pulled on one of Maximilian's shirts. It felt too revealing. With nothing underneath, she felt exposed and drafty, so she added one of his robes.

In the oversized clothes, she looked like a kid playing dress-up. The sleeves swallowed her hands, and the robe dragged across the floor.

Feeling ridiculous but determined to keep her composure, Elizabeth walked out of the bathroom.

Maximilian was sitting on the bed, changed into comfortable loungewear. His arm was bandaged, and his hair fell softly around his face. He looked relaxed—almost charming—nothing like the polished executive from work.

"You bandaged that yourself?" she asked.

"Yes." His eyes were cool and composed as they flicked to her. "There's cream for swelling. Put some on your face."

Elizabeth touched her face instinctively. It was still sore and a little puffy from earlier. She'd hoped her hair would hide it, but of course he'd noticed.

"Okay. I'll go to sleep, then," Elizabeth said, taking the cream and turning to leave.

"There aren't any extra blankets. You can sleep here tonight," Maximilian said.

"What?" Elizabeth's eyes went wide. She felt like she was sinking deeper into a trap.

Was it too late to run?

"Relax. I won't touch you tonight," Maximilian assured her. His tone was calm, with no suggestive undertone.

Elizabeth stood frozen, clearly conflicted.

When she didn't move, Maximilian dimmed the lights and stretched out on the bed. "If I wanted to, it would've happened already."

Elizabeth's face went bright red. "Could you not be so blunt?" she mumbled, biting her lip. Her eyes trembled with embarrassment as she looked at him.

Why was he always so calm? So ready to say things like that out loud?

"Real love between adults is shown, not just talked about. Am I wrong?" Maximilian asked, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he took in her nervous fidgeting.

"It makes you sound like a scoundrel," Elizabeth protested. Maximilian chuckled.

"All right. Next time I'll be more subtle. Go to sleep."

He was surprisingly easy to sway, and that threw her. At the office, he'd shredded her for using the wrong template on a project proposal. Now he was... agreeable?

"Um, I..." She hesitated.

"Still awake?" he asked, his voice carrying that familiar authority. It made Elizabeth drop her hesitation immediately.

"I'm going to put on the cream," she said.

She beat a quick retreat to the bathroom, took a series of deep breaths, and then returned.

Back in the bedroom, she still felt uneasy.

"How about I get you a cup of coffee? Help you relax?" Maximilian offered, watching her gloomy expression.

Elizabeth shook her head hard. "No, thank you."

"My schedule: in bed by nine-thirty, no phones after lights out," he said, matter-of-fact.

"Seriously?" Elizabeth stared at him.

"Yes."

Wow. Stricter than her high school dorm rules.

"And when do you wake up?"

"Six."

Elizabeth blinked in disbelief.

"Do your own thing. Just don't stay up too late," he said.

"Okay, okay."

Surprisingly considerate. He wasn't demanding she keep the same schedule.

Elizabeth shuffled toward the bed, taking a good few minutes to settle on the edge. The bed had to be over two meters wide, but she curled up on the very edge as if a vast chasm separated them.

"Should I turn up the heat? You seem cold," Maximilian said, taking in her robe-covered form.

Once she was under the covers, Elizabeth slipped off the robe and hid it beneath the blankets.

Maximilian didn't say a word.

She lay there perfectly still, stiff as a board, while the night settled around them. The room went quiet. The two of them lay there, almost comically polite.

The day's events had left Elizabeth restless, and sleep refused to come. After ten quiet minutes, she decided Maximilian had to be asleep and started to fidget.

She flipped onto her back, sank into the cool softness of the silk sheets, then rolled onto her stomach and poked at the pillow. Small sounds filled the quiet room.

Maximilian sighed, reached out, and pulled her close.

"If you can't sleep, maybe we should do something else," he suggested.

Elizabeth jolted, caught off guard as he drew her into his arms.

Her loose shirt shifted. Maximilian's hand found the small of her back and pressed her closer, his grip firm.

Strong and assertive, he let her feel the heat rolling off his body—and the unmistakable effect it had on him.

"You're... not asleep?"

Maximilian Carter was still awake—which was saying something, since he was usually in bed by nine-thirty. Now it was nearly midnight.

"Hard to sleep with all this heat," he murmured, his warm breath brushing Elizabeth Cox's ear.

Her heart fluttered at how close they were, and his whispered words only made it worse. She stayed silent, stiff, barely daring to move as their breathing grew heavier in the dim light.

Maximilian's hand wandered somewhere it shouldn't, pulling Elizabeth closer against his chest as she tried to shy away from his burning touch. "I'm really tired," she whispered. Her small hand clutched his shirt, her voice soft and a little nasal, and the sound made Maximilian's chest ache with want.

"Can you really sleep like this?"

"Mmm," Elizabeth nodded nervously, her tiny toes curling tight as he lifted her leg. She stopped him, whispering, "We shouldn't."

"You woke me up. You can't refuse me now," Maximilian murmured, nibbling at her flushed earlobe. His husky voice sent her pulse racing.

She regretted tossing and turning earlier. Now her thoughts of home faded as Maximilian's presence overwhelmed her senses. He wrapped her in his arms, pressing her soft, warm body beneath his.

Elizabeth's shirt might as well have not existed. Their bodies melded together, warmth and breath tangled.

"It rained tonight. Let's sleep. You might catch a cold," she trembled, clinging to his wandering hand.

In the dim light, his hot palm against her skin pulled a soft sigh from her. Maximilian swallowed hard, moving in and capturing her lips with his. "Let's warm things up, then."

With that kiss, her words disappeared, and his suppressed desire finally broke loose. Raw need drove Maximilian to indulge in the woman before him.

He knew every sensitive spot on her body, making her melt into him—surrendering.

A night of passion unfolded, leaving Elizabeth breathless—and surprised by his seemingly endless vigor. Anyone who claimed Maximilian had no interest in women would have to answer to her now—his reserved exterior hid an untapped fire.

The next morning, after the storm, the air was refreshingly crisp.

Sunlight warmed the room where Elizabeth lay, held securely in Maximilian's arms. Her hair spilled across the pillow like long, silky water, and her petite face was serene in sleep.

But the workday rhythm intruded, jolting her awake. She glanced at the clock—and panicked.

It was 9:30 a.m.!

Her perfect attendance record was at risk. Hastily, she threw back the covers, wincing as soreness reminded her of last night's intensity.

Turning her head, she saw her boss still asleep beside her.

In those few seconds, a whirlwind of emotions tore through her.

Her movement stirred Maximilian. His long lashes fluttered open, revealing eyes still hazy with sleep.

"Um, it's 9:30. I'm late," Elizabeth stammered, her pulse racing.

"Take the day off," Maximilian said. His voice was low and clear, a command that carried undeniable authority even fresh from sleep.

Elizabeth blinked, her heart rate slowly returning to normal. "What about my attendance bonus?"

"I'll cover it."

Relieved, Elizabeth brightened. "Okay. You rest a bit more. I'll make breakfast. Half a day off is fine."

"Alright," Maximilian rumbled in agreement.

Carefully lifting his arm from her waist, Elizabeth noticed his intense gaze lingering on her. His dark eyes held a humor only she could read, tracing her features like a gentle caress.

Feeling unexpectedly self-conscious—and very aware of her lack of clothes—Elizabeth turned and pulled the covers over his head, shielding herself from his gaze.

Maximilian, unfazed, lay still as she hurried into the bathroom. Once she was out of sight, he sat up and uncovered himself.

The austere room seemed to come alive.

Running a hand through his hair, he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed for the wardrobe.

The previous night had left a mark. Next to the old bite mark, a new, delicate one appeared.

She couldn't resist leaving her mark.

Elizabeth got ready quickly, hoping to dodge any awkwardness—or further entanglement under the same roof—by heading to the kitchen.

Truth be told, she was hungry.

Opening the large, modern refrigerator, she was stunned.

Rows of alcohol lined the shelves—nothing but alcohol...

The freezer was empty.

"Your fridge is stocked with nothing but drinks?"

"I never cook at home. I'll take you out," Maximilian said, coming downstairs in an impeccable suit, carrying her phone and passport.

Elizabeth blinked, taken aback, and closed the fridge door.

Maximilian went to start the car, and Elizabeth found herself standing before a luxury vehicle she'd only heard her colleagues talk about.

Never had she imagined she'd actually ride in one.

"Sit up front," Maximilian offered, opening the passenger door for her.

Tentatively—yet resigned—she got in.

"Are we going to the...?"

"The civil registry."

"Shouldn't we see a lawyer first? Isn't there a prenup to sign?"

"No need. We can sign the paperwork today," Maximilian replied, looking effortlessly sophisticated in his suit. His words were direct, giving off the air of a distant man who was hard to reach.

"But you're so wealthy. Aren't rich people usually particular about that sort of thing?"

"If you can't trust your own woman, what kind of man does that make you?" Maximilian said as he drove, his tone firm but composed.

His answer struck at the independent values she held so dear.

She looked at him, bathed in golden morning light, his features even more striking.

He looked like strength and integrity wrapped in a tailored suit—a model of masculine excellence.

"What are you smiling about?" Maximilian asked, glancing at her.

"You, Mr. Carter, are so... manly. The epitome of a true gentleman," Elizabeth praised.

Compared to the conniving men she'd known, Maximilian seemed like the perfect gentleman—wealthy, handsome, and completely without pettiness.

"Sounds like you've met quite a few swindlers," Maximilian remarked, his voice steady.