CHAPTER 75: SHARING A BED

Alexia’s POV

Stupid Aiden. Stupid, controlling, infuriating Aiden.

I paced around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets with more force than necessary. The nerve of that man! Acting like he owned me, like I was some business transaction he could dictate every second of my life.

"If you want to fuck around, wait at least six months are over."

His words still rang in my head, and my blood boiled all over again. Who the hell did he think he was? If I wanted to go out, I damn well would. And not with the intention of "fucking around," but because I was a human being with a life, not some doll he could dress up and parade around for whatever stupid reason he married me in the first place.

I yanked open the freezer, eyes scanning the shelves. There—ice cream. The cure for all of life’s problems.

Snatching the tub, I grabbed a spoon and hopped onto the counter, stabbing into the frozen goodness like it had personally wronged me.

One bite. Cold, sweet, comforting.

Another.

Okay, maybe this would keep me from committing a felony.

I should have expected Aiden to react badly, but kidnapping me from a public place like some caveman? Dragging me away from Mike as if I was cheating? He was the one who left me stranded at that damn event in the first place! If he really wanted this marriage to look "perfect," maybe he should try acting like a halfway decent husband.

I sighed, taking another bite, my anger still simmering.

Then again...

His face when he found me with Mike had been something else. Aiden was always so composed, so in control, but today? Today, he’d been unhinged.

Possessive.

And for some stupid reason, I felt... something.

Not that I’d ever admit it.

Nope. More ice cream. Less thinking.

Stupid Aiden.

I still had to pay him back.

Finishing my sweet, glorious ice cream, I hopped off the counter, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. My anger hadn’t completely subsided, but at least I was no longer on the verge of throwing something at his stupid, brooding face.

But he still needed to be punished.

Dragging me away like some jealous husband? Humiliating me? Acting like he could control my every move? Oh no, he wasn’t getting away with that.

A devious smile crept onto my lips as an idea formed in my mind.

His sleep. His peace. That’s what I had to ruin.

And what better way than wetting his stupid, perfectly made bed?

I tiptoed up the stairs and peeked into the study. The door was shut, probably locked, but I knew Aiden well enough—when he was pissed, he usually sulked there for a while before retreating to bed. Which meant I had time.

Hurrying to the bathroom, I grabbed a large jug and filled it with water. Not too much—I didn’t want to drown the man, just make him uncomfortable. Enough for him to wake up confused, annoyed, and preferably cursing my name.

I snickered to myself as I tiptoed toward our—his—bed. The sheets were perfectly arranged, untouched from last night since he hadn’t even come home. Well, that was about to change.

Lifting the jug, I poured the water strategically over the middle of the bed, making sure it soaked deep into the mattress. The coldness would seep in slowly, making him think he’d pissed himself.

Beautiful.

I took a step back to admire my masterpiece, barely holding in my laughter.

Take that, Mr. Control Freak.

Now, all I had to do was wait.

With my little act of revenge complete, I hummed happily as I went about my night routine. A hot shower, a cozy oversized t-shirt, and a quick scroll through my phone to check messages I’d ignored all day.

Aiden was probably still sulking in his study, fuming over whatever imaginary crime he thought I’d committed. Good. Let him stay mad. Maybe if he stewed in his anger long enough, he’d finally realize he wasn’t my keeper.

After brushing my teeth, I made my way to my couch. Yes, mine, because the bed was all his, according to how things had played out since our sham of a marriage began. But tonight, oh tonight, his bed wasn’t going to be so comfortable anymore.

Snuggling into the couch, I pulled the blanket over me and turned off the bedside lamp.

Now, all I had to do was wait.

Wait for the moment Aiden, in all his arrogance, climbed into bed expecting warmth and comfort—only to be met with cold, wet sheets.

A slow grin spread across my face at the mere thought of it.

Would he wake up instantly, cursing? Or would he lay there for a few seconds, confused, wondering if he’d actually wet himself?

I bit my lip to hold in my laughter.

This was going to be so worth it.

I must have been really tired because I didn’t even get to witness my glorious prank unfold. Instead, I had passed out on the couch like a damn baby.

The next thing I knew, I was too warm—almost suffocatingly so. Groggily, I tried to shove the covers off me, but instead of soft fabric, my hand met something hard. Solid. Muscled.

What the actual—

My eyes flew open.

And there it was.

The actual fuck moment.

Aiden.

Spooning.

Me.

I went stiff, my heart slamming against my ribs as the realization fully sank in. His arm was draped over my waist, his body pressed against mine like we were some cozy, happily married couple. His slow, steady breathing tickled the back of my neck, his warmth completely engulfing me.

What the hell happened?

My eyes darted around, and that’s when I noticed—this wasn’t even our room.

The furniture was different, the bed was bigger, and the scent in the air wasn’t familiar. Aiden’s usual dark, modern space had been replaced by a room with deep wooden tones and a more classic feel.

My breath hitched. Where are we?

And more importantly, why the hell am I in bed with him?

Aiden’s POV

No, I didn’t intend on embracing her in my sleep. Hell, I wouldn’t willingly cuddle that little menace if my life depended on it. We were just sharing the stupid bed—purely practical. Why, you ask? Alright, let me rewind to yesterday.

After hours of trying to shake off the frustration she’d given me, I finally emerged from my study, expecting nothing but peace. Instead, I found Alexia already knocked out on her beloved couch. Typical.

I sighed, did my night routine, and dragged my exhausted body toward my bed—only to be greeted by a soaking wet mattress.

Instantly, I knew.

Alexia.

That little minx.

She was the last one in the room, and I just knew she was behind it. I sat up, already preparing to drag her out of her peaceful slumber and unleash hell, but then I stopped.

It was just water.

If I woke her up now, it would turn into a full-blown shouting match, and the last thing I needed was the entire house knowing our business. The servants had already witnessed enough of our arguments, and if we kept at it, gossip would start.

Honestly, I was seconds away from yanking her out of that couch and demanding answers, but I knew how that would play out—loud voices, heated insults, and a probable audience of eavesdropping servants. And with the way gossip spreads in this mansion, it wouldn’t take long before our "perfect marriage" became the hottest scandal in the papers.

No thanks.

I wasn’t about to let that happen.

So instead of waking her up like she deserved, I decided to take the high road and not commit murder. I got up to leave, fully prepared to sleep in the guest room.

But then I stopped short.

Shit.

Sleeping in another room would raise even more questions.

If word got out that we were sleeping separately, people would start suspecting that things weren’t as picture-perfect as they seemed. The deal depended on appearances, and if anyone so much as whispered that our marriage was falling apart, it could ruin everything.

So I did what any rational person would do.

I went back for that little menace.

And no, I didn’t wake her up. Instead, I carried her.

Why? Because waking her up meant dealing with her mouth, and I was so not in the mood for her nagging. Silence was the better option.

But let me tell you something—that girl is deceptively heavy.

She might look small and delicate, but damn was she a deadweight. I was actually tempted to dump her on the floor just to teach her a lesson, but knowing her, she’d wake up and launch into a full-blown fit. I wasn’t about to deal with that at two in the morning.

So, I hauled her to the guest room instead.

And did she stir? Did she even twitch?

Nope.

She was completely knocked out—so deep in sleep that she could have been kidnapped, and she wouldn’t have known until she woke up in a whole new country.

I dumped her on the bed without a second thought. She didn’t react. Didn’t move. Just slept like a damn rock.

I sighed and went to my side of the bed, fully prepared to just get some damn sleep.

So waking up to Alexia cursing at me and realizing I was spooning her?

Yeah. That was definitely not something I did on purpose.

So imagine my irritation when I woke up spooning her.

My first thought? What the actual hell.

My arm was draped over her waist like I was some lovesick fool. Her body was warm, soft—too soft—and worse, she fit perfectly against me. I should’ve been horrified. I was horrified.

Yet somehow, in the haze of sleep, I had pulled her closer like she was my personal heater.

And there she was, stirring awake and cursing under her breath. Probably ready to blame me for something—because everything is my fault, apparently.

I wanted to yank my arm back and put as much distance between us as possible, but that would only give her more ammunition to tease me. And there’s nothing she enjoys more than pushing my buttons.

So instead, I stayed perfectly still, silently cursing myself and this whole ridiculous arrangement.

This—whatever this was—was definitely not part of the deal.