CHAPTER 136: PLANS FOR YOU

LAYLA’S POV

"A honeymoon?" The idea seemed almost foreign after everything we’d been through. Honeymoons were for normal couples who got married for normal reasons, not for people like us who’d started with a revenge contract.

"Why not? Once this trial’s over, once we’re safe, let’s go somewhere. Anywhere. Get away from all of this." His eyes were bright with the kind of hope I hadn’t seen in weeks... months, maybe.

"Where would we even go? We can’t exactly plan a trip when we might have cartel hitmen after us."

He grinned, some of his earlier playfulness returning despite the circumstances. "Come here. I have an idea."

He led me to a large map of the world mounted on his study wall, its surface marked with pins from various business trips. From his desk drawer, he pulled out a single dart.

"Pick a hand," he said, holding both behind his back.

"What are you doing?"

"Just pick one. Left or right?"

"This is ridiculous," I said, but I couldn’t help smiling. "Left?"

He handed me the dart with a flourish. "Close your eyes and throw. Wherever it lands, that’s where we go. No second chances, no do-overs."

"You’re insane," I laughed. "What if it lands in the middle of the ocean?"

"Then we’ll get a boat."

"What if it’s somewhere dangerous? Or in the middle of a war zone?"

"Then we throw again. But you have to try first."

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of the dart in my hand. It was such a simple thing, this game, but it felt somehow significant, like we were choosing to believe in a future beyond the trial, beyond the threats.

I threw.

The dart made a soft thunk as it hit the map. When I opened my eyes, Axel was already examining where it had landed, and his face broke into a huge smile.

"Atlantic Ocean," he announced. "Right in the middle. You literally hit water."

"I told you that would happen!"

"Okay, okay. New rule: if you hit water, throw again." He pulled the dart out and handed it back to me. "But keep your eyes closed this time. Really commit."

I closed my eyes again, this time turning my body slightly before throwing. Another thunk.

"Santorini," Axel announced with genuine excitement in his voice. "Greece. Perfect."

"Where exactly in Greece?" I moved closer to examine the map.

"Right here." He pointed to a small cluster of islands in the Aegean Sea. "Santorini. White buildings, blue domes, incredible sunsets. Wine country. Beautiful beaches. And best of all, absolutely zero thoughts about your family or my revenge or any of this mess."

The image was so appealing that tears pricked my eyes. "That sounds amazing. Almost too good to be true."

"It’s a promise," he said firmly, taking both my hands in his. "We’re going to have a real marriage, Layla. Not just a contract. Not just revenge. Something real, with actual honeymoons and vacations and all the normal couple stuff we skipped."

"We already do," I whispered, squeezing his hands. "After last night, after this weekend... this is real, Axel. It’s already real."

He pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me.

For a long moment, we just stood there, holding each other in front of that map, a dart stuck in Santorini like a promise of better days ahead.

"We should probably eat something," he said finally. "I’m starving, and I bet you haven’t eaten since breakfast at the retreat."

"I could eat," I admitted. "Though I’m not sure what we have. We’ve been gone all weekend."

"Let’s raid the kitchen and see what we can find."

He had asked the house staff to take a few days off during our days away, and they were due to resume the next day.

In the kitchen, we discovered that Mrs Martha had thoughtfully stocked the fridge before we left. There were fresh ingredients for a simple pasta, some pre-made sauce, a salad, and even a bottle of wine.

"Bless Mrs Martha," I said, pulling out the ingredients.

"I’ll cook," Axel offered. "You’ve had a long day."

"We both have. Let’s cook together."

We fell into an easy rhythm, me chopping vegetables while he got the pasta water boiling. It felt domestic, normal, like we’d done this a hundred times before instead of it being our first time cooking together.

"So when we go to Santorini," I said, dicing a tomato, "what do you want to do?"

"Nothing," he said immediately. "Absolutely nothing. Just eat, drink wine, watch sunsets, and spend all day in bed."

Heat crept up my neck at the last part. "That sounds... nice."

"Nice?" He looked at me with mock offence. "I was going for romantic and slightly scandalous."

"Fine, it sounds romantic and slightly scandalous."

"Better." He stirred the pasta, then moved behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist as I continued chopping. "Though I’m thinking we don’t wait until Santorini for the ’all day in bed’ part."

"Is that so?"

"That’s so." His lips found my neck, placing a soft kiss there. "In fact, I have very specific plans for tonight."

"Axel, I’m holding a knife."

"Then put it down."

I set the knife aside, laughing. "The pasta’s going to boil over."

"Let it." But he released me anyway, moving back to the stove. "Fine, fine. Food first, then my very specific plans."

We finished cooking, the conversation flowing easily as we talked about everything and nothing: favourite foods, travel dreams, embarrassing childhood stories.

It was the kind of conversation normal couples had, getting to know each other without the pressure of contracts or revenge hanging over them.

Dinner was simple but perfect. We ate at the kitchen island rather than the formal dining room, feeding each other bites of pasta and laughing at nothing in particular.

"This is nice," I said, twirling pasta on my fork. "Just... normal. Being married without all the drama."

"We should do it more often," Axel agreed. "The being normal part, I mean."

"After the trial. After all this is over. We’ll have plenty of time to be normal."

"I’m holding you to that." He refilled our wine glasses. "And to Santorini. And to whatever else we decide to do with our real marriage."

"To real marriage," I echoed, clinking my glass against his.

When we finished eating, Axel loaded the dishwasher while I wiped down the counters. The easy domesticity of it all made my heart ache in the best way.

"So," he said, closing the dishwasher and turning to face me. "Ready for bed?"

The question felt loaded with lots of implications. Before the retreat, before last night, the answer would have been obvious... separate bedrooms, separate lives under the same roof.

"I have a room," I said, suddenly nervous. "My room, I mean. Where I’ve been sleeping."

Axel’s expression turned playful, heat creeping into his eyes as he moved closer. "Not always."

"That was just a few exceptions."

"I was thinking something else."

"Oh? What’s that?"

He stepped closer, backing me against the counter, his voice dropping to that low rumble that made my stomach flip. "Why don’t I show you?"

"Show me?" My breath caught as his hands found my waist.

"Mmm." His lips brushed my ear. "I was thinking we could make the exceptions... a regular. I mean... you, spending the night in my room... in my bed... where you belong."

"Is that so?"

"That’s so." He lifted me onto the counter, stepping between my legs. "Unless you object?"

"I... I don’t object," I breathed, my hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. "Not even a little bit."

"Good." He captured my mouth in a kiss that promised exactly where this night was heading. "Because I have plans for you, Mrs O’Brien. Many, many plans."

"Then stop talking," I murmured against his lips, "and show me."