CHAPTER 44: BABYSITTING ADULTS

Aiden POV:

Unbelievable. If this is what life with her is going to be like, I might need to stock up on patience—and alcohol. For Christ’s sake, couldn’t she survive a few hours without food? But no, her insufferable stomach had to humiliate me in front of the judge, the Black brothers, and God knows who else.

When the judge said, "You may kiss the bride," I was so furious I briefly entertained the idea of biting her lip clean off. It would’ve served her right. But, alas, self-control prevailed. I opted for the lightest, most businesslike brush of my lips against hers—just enough to satisfy the judge and avoid headlines like "Aiden Timberlake Refuses to Kiss Wife at Wedding."

The brothers didn’t help. Their obnoxious hooting and hollering made it feel less like a wedding and more like a frat party. God help me, why were they even here? I only needed two witnesses, not a traveling circus.

The moment we entered the restaurant, I could feel my patience wearing even thinner. The private room was immaculate, as expected—sleek decor, soft lighting, and a table set perfectly for two. That "two" had somehow turned into six, thanks to Alexia’s insufferable stomach and my equally insufferable former friends deciding they couldn’t pass up a free meal.

Unbelievable.

As we sat down, Alexia’s face lit up like a kid in a candy store, her eyes darting between the menu and the appetizers already laid out. Meanwhile, the Black brothers—the boisterous pack of hyenas that they were—settled in as if they owned the place.

And now, because life apparently loves testing me, I’m stuck with them at the hotel. I’d booked a private room in a high-end restaurant, hoping for a shred of peace, but no—these grown children decided to invite themselves along, claiming they were also starving.

"Who has a wedding this early in the morning anyway?" Luke griped, reaching for a roll from the breadbasket before it even hit the table.

"Yes, Timberlake, what kind of masochist makes people skip breakfast for a wedding?" Henry added, smirking like the devil incarnate.

"I don’t recall asking any of you to come," I snapped, glaring at the lot of them. "So spare me your complaints."

Martin, ever the instigator, leaned back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh. "Aiden, we’re family. Of course, we’d come to support you. It’s not everyday you chain yourself to someone for life."

I gritted my teeth, ignoring the jab. Support? More like sabotage.

"Fancy spread, Timberlake," Luke commented, popping a breadstick into his mouth. "You sure you didn’t plan this for us?"

I shot him a glare that could’ve frozen hell. "I planned this for my wife. You all weren’t even invited."

Henry laughed, completely unfazed. "Aw, c’mon, Aiden. You know we couldn’t miss your big day. Besides," he said, nudging Alexia with his elbow, "someone had to make sure this one didn’t faint from hunger."

Alexia, to her credit, looked less embarrassed and more defiant. "He should’ve fed me," she muttered, stabbing a piece of fruit with her fork.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing myself not to explode. This was not how my morning was supposed to go. My plan had been simple: a quick, no-nonsense wedding, followed by an equally no-nonsense late breakfast to shut her up. Instead, I was trapped with a group of freeloaders and a wife who was more interested in the food than the fact that we were now legally bound.

Mike, who had been unusually quiet since the ceremony, finally spoke up. "So, Alexia," he said, his tone casual but his eyes sharp, "how does it feel being Mrs. Timberlake?"

She looked up, blinking in surprise, before shrugging. "It feels like... free food?"

Luke and Henry burst into laughter, and even Mike cracked a smile. I, on the other hand, could feel my patience snapping like a twig.

"Enough," I said sharply, my voice cutting through their laughter. "This isn’t a social gathering. Eat your food and leave."

Luke smirked, clearly enjoying my irritation. "Relax, Aiden. You’re married now. Shouldn’t you be in a better mood?"

I leveled him with a cold stare. "Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?"

Alexia, sitting across from me, looked oddly smug, probably reveling in my misery. Her outfit was elegant, her makeup impeccable, and yet her attitude was as infuriating as ever. I caught her smirking at Mike.

Mike. The loudest of the bunch, suddenly mute? Suspicious. He kept sneaking glances at Alexia, and she, being her usual defiant self, met his gaze head-on. Was there something I was missing?

"Mike," I called, breaking the unspoken staring contest. His head snapped toward me, and I gestured toward the menu. "Order something. You’re making the room feel awkward with all the silence."

"Right, sure," he muttered, eyes darting back to Alexia briefly before burying himself in the menu.

Great. Just great. Now I had to deal with him acting weird too.

When the waiter arrived, I barely glanced at the menu before rattling off my order. Alexia, on the other hand, took her sweet time, asking an endless series of questions about ingredients, sides, and cooking methods.

"For someone who wanted food so badly, you’re certainly in no rush to order it," I muttered under my breath.

She shot me a sharp look, her eyes glinting with challenge. "Well, since I wasn’t fed breakfast, I might as well make this meal count, don’t you think?"

I clenched my jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. "Just order, Alexia."

Finally, she did, but not before adding dessert to her list of demands. When the waiter left, the brothers resumed their relentless teasing.

"So," Martin started, his grin practically splitting his face, "how does it feel to be a married man, Aiden?"

"It feels like babysitting," I replied coolly, earning a snort from Henry.

Alexia leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she smiled sweetly. "Oh, don’t worry, dear husband. You’ll get used to it."

The brothers burst into laughter, and I felt my last thread of patience snap. This was going to be a long breakfast—and an even longer marriage.

Alexia, meanwhile, was doing her best to ignore the chaos, focusing entirely on her plate. Watching her eat was both infuriating and oddly fascinating. She attacked her food with a mix of grace and ferocity, as if she were a starving aristocrat.

"You know," Henry said, leaning back in his chair, "this is the quietest I’ve ever seen you, Aiden. Marriage must be doing something to you already."

I didn’t bother responding. They thrived on provoking me, and engaging would only encourage them. Instead, I turned to Alexia, who was now sipping her drink with an air of contentment that made my jaw clench.

"Are you done?" I asked her curtly.

She glanced at her plate, then at me, her expression innocent. "Not yet. Why? Are you in a hurry?"

"Yes," I replied, my tone icy. "Unlike some people, I have work to do."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she took her time finishing her meal, clearly enjoying the fact that it irritated me.

By the time we left the restaurant, my mood was officially ruined. The brothers, of course, followed us out, joking and laughing as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

As I helped Alexia into the car, Luke leaned in with a grin. "Take it easy on her, Aiden. She’s got a lot to adjust to, marrying a guy like you."

I didn’t respond. I slammed the door shut, got into the driver’s seat since Tobias had gone to the office and check on things, and drove off without so much as a backward glance.

This marriage was supposed to be a simple business arrangement—a convenient solution to a problem. But with Alexia’s stubbornness and the Black brothers’ interference, it was shaping up to be anything but.

If this was just the beginning, I didn’t even want to think about what the rest of the week would bring.

The car ride was tense, though not a word was spoken between us. Alexia was too busy gazing out of the window, probably lost in her own thoughts—or planning what to eat next, for all I knew. I, on the other hand, was brimming with a mix of irritation and satisfaction. Irritation because of the circus of a morning I’d just endured, and satisfaction because I was about to shove this sham of a marriage in that smug lawyer’s face.

That man, Robert Greyson, had been a thorn in my side for years. My late mother’s lawyer and, by some unfortunate twist of fate, also my father’s loyal lapdog. He’d always made it clear he didn’t think I was capable of handling my mother’s inheritance, let alone outsmarting my father and his new family.

When my mother’s will stipulated that I had to marry by a specific date to claim her assets, I could practically hear the glee in his voice. He’d probably expected me to fail, to let those vultures—my father and his wife—sink their claws into what was rightfully mine.

But here I was, a legally married man, and I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when I walked into his office with Alexia by my side.

"We’re making a stop," I announced abruptly, breaking the silence.

Alexia turned to me, frowning. "A stop? Where?"

"You’ll see," I replied curtly, my focus on the road.

Her frown deepened. "If this is another lecture about being late, I’d like to remind you that—"

"It’s not," I cut her off, my tone firm. "Just... sit tight and let me handle it."

She muttered something under her breath, but thankfully didn’t argue further.

When we arrived at Greyson’s office, Alexia looked up at the towering glass building with mild curiosity. "A lawyer’s office?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Something like that," I said, stepping out of the car and holding the door open for her.

Inside, the receptionist greeted me with a strained smile. She knew who I was, and she knew better than to ask unnecessary questions. I told her we were here to see Greyson, and she nodded, gesturing toward his office.

The moment we stepped inside, Greyson’s smug face greeted us. He was sitting behind his oversized desk, his suit impeccable, his expression oozing false politeness.

"Aiden," he said, standing and extending a hand I had no intention of shaking. "I wasn’t expecting you so soon. And who is this lovely—"

"This is my wife," I said, cutting him off with a smirk. "Alexia Timberlake."

For a split second, his composure faltered. His eyes widened ever so slightly, and I could see the disbelief flickering in his expression. It was gone in an instant, replaced by a tight smile, but I’d seen enough to know I’d rattled him.

"Your wife?" he repeated, as if the words physically hurt him.

"Yes," I said, my tone dripping with satisfaction. "We were married this morning. So, about those transactions—you can start transferring everything into my name now."

Greyson’s jaw tightened. "Of course," he said smoothly, though I could hear the strain in his voice. "I’ll need to see the marriage certificate and confirm a few details, but once everything checks out, we can proceed."

"Good," I said, leaning forward slightly. "Because I’d hate to think there were any... delays."

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he forced another smile. "No delays, Mr. Timberlake. I’ll take care of everything."

Satisfied, I turned to Alexia. "Let’s go. We’re done here."

She blinked in surprise but didn’t argue, following me out of the office.

As we stepped back into the car, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph. Greyson had underestimated me, just like everyone else. But now, the ball was in my court, and I wasn’t about to let anyone take what was mine.

Alexia, however, was still looking at me curiously. "What was that about?" she asked.

"Nothing you need to worry about," I replied, starting the car.

She crossed her arms, clearly not satisfied with that answer, but thankfully didn’t press further.

One battle was won, but the war was far from over. For now, though, I’d savor this small victory—and the look on Greyson’s face when he realized I wasn’t someone to be underestimated.