CHAPTER 28: SCREAMING HEADACHE

Aiden POV

I had an important meeting at 9 AM that I couldn’t afford to miss. Not to mention, I still had to go by the courthouse and handle the paperwork for the marriage approval. That damn headache—yeah, that’s exactly what she was. The one who had caused me all this unnecessary trouble.

I had just stepped out of the shower and was getting dressed when I heard her scream. At first, I thought someone had broken into the house, so I rushed toward her door, ready to confront whatever threat there might be. My heart was pounding in my chest, but when I burst into the room, I found no one. Just her.

I paused, looking around the room to ensure everything was fine. She was the only one here. A scream this early in the morning? What the hell is wrong with her?

I had barely finished scanning the room before I saw her, clutching the bedspread around her body like she was about to fall apart. She was flustered, wide-eyed, and almost trembling with panic. The sheer drama of it all made me roll my eyes. This was the woman I was supposedly going to marry?

"Care to explain why you’re screaming so early in the morning?" I asked, my irritation evident in my voice.

She just stared at me for a second, clearly still processing everything that had happened. I wasn’t even sure she realized how ridiculous she sounded. She then, in a move that caught me completely off guard, accused me of taking advantage of her when she was drunk.

What?

I blinked, the words landing like a brick in my stomach. Me? Touch her?

Like hell, I would ever touch her. I wasn’t about to waste my time on someone like her. I liked my women sober, in full control of their actions. The last thing I needed was a woman who couldn’t even hold her liquor.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my calm. I wasn’t sure if she was confused or if this was just another one of her dramatic episodes, but I couldn’t just stand there and let her make wild accusations. She needed to understand that I wasn’t the problem here.

She asked me why I had undressed her, and honestly, that was the easiest part. I wasn’t going to let her walk around in puke-soaked clothes or anything else, so I took the initiative.

What did she think she was implying here?

"Oh, that," I said, brushing it off. "You puked, and I had to clean you up. You were in no condition to do anything about it yourself."

I could see her face shift, the color draining from it. She was starting to get it—though it wasn’t for the reasons she thought. I wasn’t about to apologize. No, she should be thanking me for cleaning up her mess. I’d rather not have to touch her at all, but it was either undress her or leave her in that disgusting state.

Then, just to really get under her skin, I added a little bit more fuel to the fire.

"Oh, and you also peed yourself," I said with a slight chuckle, though there was no real humor in my voice.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. Perfect.

"I did no such thing!" she shouted back, practically seething with anger.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "If you don’t remember me undressing you, then how can you say you didn’t pee on yourself?"

I could practically feel her blood boiling as she tried to piece things together in her head. Her hands shook as she clutched the bedspread tighter.

But I wasn’t done yet. I could see the rage building in her, and I had to finish this right. The last thing I needed was her thinking she could get away with this behavior. She needed to learn her place in all of this.

"Trust me," I added, my voice dripping with annoyance. "Undressing you was like undressing a child."

She froze, her face contorting with shock and anger.

Good. That’s exactly what I wanted. She needed to understand that I wasn’t about to coddle her or let her manipulate me.

But, to be honest, that wasn’t entirely true. She didn’t have a childish body—not at all. In fact, she had a body that was gorgeous. Her curves, the way she was build herself, it wasn’t childish. But I didn’t want her to know that. She was my future wife-to-be, and it was high time I set some boundaries.

Her clothes—those rags—had to go. It wasn’t just about her behavior, it was about her image. She was going to be my wife, and I couldn’t have her walking around like that. The woman needed a wardrobe overhaul, and it had to start with her undergarments. They were... less than impressive.

As I turned to leave the room, I made one final statement, making sure it hit her hard. "Get over it. You’re fine now," I muttered, already walking away from her.

But before I could completely escape, I added one last line, just to really push her buttons. "And for the record, you’re lucky I didn’t leave you in that disgusting state."

With that, I slammed the door behind me, hoping that would be the end of it.

The whole situation had left me feeling more irritated than anything. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction. We had been forced into this mess with her by circumstances, and now it was time for her to face the consequences of this deal. I wasn’t going to be the only one suffering in this soon to be union—not when we both agreed to it without being forced.

She was my future wife-to-be, and if she thought this was bad, she was in for a whole lot more.

As much as this entire situation made me want to slam my head against a wall, I still needed to talk to her. We had to make this marriage work, even if it meant pretending to be a happy couple for the sake of appearances.

The last thing I needed was for this arrangement to blow up in my face.

I’d built my life on control, structure, and careful planning. I couldn’t let this chaotic woman ruin everything. She was unpredictable, reckless, and, frankly, a walking disaster. But she was also the only solution I had right now.

So, I’d do what I always did. Handle it. Even if it meant dealing with her tantrums, her drunken episodes, and her goddamn attitude.

Because failure wasn’t an option. Not for me. Not ever.

And if that meant acting like I cared, pretending we were a loving couple in public, then so be it. I’d play the part. But she’d better keep up, or this whole thing was going to come crashing down—and I wasn’t about to let that happen.

With that resolve firmly in place, I headed for my office to prepare for the day. Because as much as I hated it, this marriage wasn’t going to manage itself.