CHAPTER 134: CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THIRTY FOUR

The paper crinkled in Marissa’s hand. She clutched the letter Derek had slid under her door so tightly that her knuckles were white.

She sat in her carriage, staring out the window at the passing city streets, but she wasn’t seeing them. She was seeing Derek’s handwriting. She was remembering his face in the candlelight.

She was still angry.

She told herself it was because he was late to the oak tree. She told herself it was because Carlos had insulted her with his cheap words and gestures and disgusting proposition. She told herself it was because the whole day had been a mess.

But deep down, in a place she didn’t want to look, she knew those weren’t the real reasons.

She was angry because she had waited for him. She was angry because when she read his letter this morning, her heart had skipped a beat. She was angry because she was losing control of her own feelings. She was the Grand Duchess. She was the one who pulled the strings. She shouldn’t be fluttering like a naive girl over a note from her husband.

The carriage slowed down. It turned a corner and came to a stop.

"We are here, Your Grace," the driver called out.

Marissa looked up. They were parked in front of the Golden Swan.

Marissa took a deep breath. She smoothed her dress. It was a deep crimson silk today, a color of power and warning.

She reached for her black fan. She snapped it open with a sharp, aggressive click.

She stepped down from the carriage. She didn’t wait for a footman. She walked toward the entrance, fluttering the fan rapidly against her chest. She needed the cool air. She felt hot, and she didn’t know if it was anger or nerves.

Ian was waiting for her by the main doors. He was dressed in his guard uniform, looking serious and efficient as always.

He saw her approach and bowed low.

"Welcome, Your Grace," Ian greeted her.

He straightened up and gestured to the open door.

"His Grace is waiting for you," Ian said. "Please, follow me."

Marissa nodded stiffly. "Lead the way."

She followed Ian through the main hall. It was empty of dancers and drinkers. The floor had been stripped, and the smell of fresh sawdust filled the air. It smelled like a new beginning.

Ian led her up the grand staircase. He didn’t take her to the VIP room where the raid had happened. He took her to a different door at the end of the hall, one that looked new and polished.

He opened the door and stepped aside.

"He is inside," Ian said.

Marissa walked in.

It was a private viewing room, smaller and more intimate than the others. The walls were painted a soft cream color. There was a table set with fresh fruit and cool water. At the far end, heavy velvet curtains were pulled back to reveal a balcony.

Derek was standing there.

He was leaning against the stone railing, looking down below. He was watching the view downstairs.

Marissa walked toward him. Her heels clicked softly on the floorboards. She reached the balcony and stopped.

She looked at his back. He was broad-shouldered and tall.

She looked down at the entrance where Ian just welcomed her.

"He must have seen me enter," she thought to herself. "He has been watching me since I arrived."

Derek turned around.

A smile plastered his face instantly. It was the same boyish, happy smile he had worn in the garden before the dress disaster. It lit up his eyes.

"Marissa," he said.

Marissa’s anger faltered for a little bit. It was hard to be furious at someone who looked so genuinely happy to see you.

She looked him up and down.

He wasn’t wearing his military uniform. He wasn’t wearing the stiff, formal coats of the Grand Duke.

He was dressed casually. He wore a simple white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, revealing his throat. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing his strong forearms. He wore dark trousers and simple boots.

He looked handsome. He looked relaxed.

But Marissa frowned slightly behind her fan.

"I prefer when he is in his military uniform," she thought suddenly.

The thought caught her off guard. She remembered him in the black coat with the silver buttons. She remembered the leather gloves. She remembered how powerful that uniform made him look. It made him look dangerous and commanding.

Her mind wandered. It went to a dangerous place.

She looked at the buttons on his casual shirt.

"I always wondered," she thought, biting her lip. "How long would it take to unbutton that uniform? How long would it take to make him naked before me?"

The image of Derek, stripping off the military coat, throwing the gloves on the floor, his eyes dark with desire... it flashed through her mind like lightning.

Marissa’s eyes went wide. Her face turned a bright, burning red.

She shook her head violently, trying to clear the naughty thoughts from her head.

"Stop it!" she screamed internally. "What is wrong with you? You are here to be angry! You are here to do business!"

She fluttered the fan faster. She needed air. She needed to calm the redness of her cheeks before he noticed.

She forced her expression back into a scowl. She continued her anger, using it as a shield against her own attraction.

"You sent for me," Marissa said, her voice sharp. "I am here."

Derek watched her fanning herself. He saw the blush, but he thought it was from the heat of the day or her lingering annoyance at Carlos.

He stepped away from the railing and walked toward her.

"I did," Derek said. "I wanted to apologize again. For yesterday."

"You already wrote a letter," Marissa said, looking away.

"Words on paper are easy," Derek said. "I wanted to do something real."

He gestured to the room around them. He gestured to the building.

"I reclaimed ownership of the Golden Swan," Derek said. His voice was serious now. "Senna is gone. Her name is off the deed. Her influence is scrubbed from these walls."

Marissa stopped fanning for a second. She looked at him.

"You took it back?" she asked.

"Yes," Derek said. "It belongs to someone else now."

He reached into his pocket. He pulled out a rolled piece of thick parchment. It was tied with a red ribbon and stamped with the official seal of the city magistrate.

"And," Derek continued, watching her face closely. "From now on, you manage it."

He held the parchment out to her.

Marissa stared at it.

"Me?" she asked herself.

She reached out to take the parchment.

But her hands were full. She was clutching her fan in her right hand, holding it tight like a lifeline.

She looked around for a table to drop her fan. There was one near the door, but it was too far. She looked at the railing, but she felt it was dirty.

Derek saw her hesitation. He reached out his hand.

"Allow me," he said softly.

He offered to hold it for her.

Marissa looked at his hand. She slowly placed the black fan into his open palm. It was a small gesture, but it felt intimate. He was holding her shield. He was holding the thing she used to hide herself.

Derek’s fingers closed around the fan. He held it gently, as if it were precious.

Marissa’s hands were now free. She took the parchment from him.

She untied the red ribbon. She unrolled the document.

She read the script.

Deed of Ownership: The Golden Swan Establishment.

Owner: The Grand Duchess of Denver.

It wasn’t just management rights. It was ownership. He had put it in her name.

Marissa’s breath hitched. She looked up at him.

"Derek," she whispered. "This... this is the deed."

"Yes," Derek said. He was watching her reaction, looking for that smile again. "Ian told me... he said that you like assets. He said you like things you can control."

He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, looking suddenly shy.

"I couldn’t buy a mine yet," he admitted. "The paperwork takes months. But this... I could give you this today."

He looked at her, his eyes hopeful.

"Do you like it?"