HARLEY: Our Bed?

The maid who'd brought the family's private doctor to do a checkup on me watched me worriedly. It'd been ten hours since I'd been brought back by Sylus, and of course, he left as soon as he came. Why would he care if his wife was okay or not? Jerk.  

I looked at the maid. "Whose room is this?" 

"Your room, Mrs. Jones." 

"My room?"

"Is there a problem?" the maid asked me. "Is it not to your liking?"  

"Where does that grumpy buffoon sleep?" 

"Huh?"  

I stood up from the bed, taking a step closer to her. "Your boss?"  

She blinked at me in shock. "By…grumpy buffoon, do you mean... Mr. Jones?" 

"Yes." I felt amused. "Doesn't he fit that description? Be honest with me." 

I wasn't sure what it was, but it was akin to fear crossing her eyes. I watched her cower, keeping her mouth shut. Was Sylus that scary? "Tell me, where does he sleep?" 

"Mr. Jones's room is downstairs. He is not a fan of second stairs or more."  

"So why am I upstairs?" 

"Huh? What do you mean?" She looked at me like I shouldn't be asking like it was obvious we had separate rooms. 

My lip dipped at the edges as I smiled. "Aren't we supposed to be sharing the same room? Why is my room all the way up here?" 

"Ah." She swallowed, wordless. "I…but Mr—"  

"Never mind, I'll ask him myself." 

I made my way downstairs, each step careful as I crept around the house, searching for Sylus's bedroom. I found it, but even after four knocks, no one answered, and I finally opened the door without so much as a creak. I first poked my head inside and peeked around with cautious eyes before slipping into the bedroom.  

There was no one in the room, and like I'd expected, it wasn't exciting in any way. It was toned down, though very luxurious and all too clean; I was sure not even a speck of dust could be found anywhere.  

What a neat freak. 

I bounced into the bed, smiling immediately at the softness, but it vanished as soon as it came. Right through the door of the bathroom, Sylus Jones walked out, clad in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. 

"What are you doing in my bed?" he asked. 

I blinked immediately, propping myself up on my elbows. "You mean our bed?" My eyes couldn't help but crawl down his tattoo-covered body, toned and muscled impressively, to halt at his waist, where the V line went to hide in the towel. 

Okay. Grumpy but hot.  

As stressed out as I was, I had to shove the issue to the back of my mind and wait for any kind of response from Olive. 

Sylus glared down at me. "What are you grinning about?" 

"Do you really want to know?" I snuggled into the mountain of pillows, making myself comfortable on the bed as if I owned it. 

"Get out." 

"No." I shook my head at him. 

"Mrs. Legan, I will—" 

"Jones," I corrected him, feeling irritation rising to my throat. "Aren't I married to you? And my name is Harley, don't act like you don't know that." 

He breathed angrily.

"Get out of my room. Do not make me drag you out of here myself." 

"Try it." 

"Harley—" 

I laughed, crossing my ankles. "We are married now, and married couples don't sleep in separate rooms." 

"We are not that kind of couple." 

"Oh? Why do you say so?" 

Sylus's brows knitted, and his frown deepened. "We don't have to sleep in the same room. Are you not smart enough to understand that?"  

"Consider me dumb, grumpy." 

He took another deep breath to calm his nerves and pointed at me. "You know what you should be doing instead of provoking me?" 

"Paint me curious, husband." 

"Saying thank you for saving your pathetic life."  

My expression immediately fell. "Saving my life? Who said you saved me? I saved myself. I was the one that fought that guy and knocked him out. If there was anything you did, it was hope I died. You seemed pretty disappointed."  

He huffed a laugh. 

"In case your stupid brain doesn't register this, I'm in a contract with your father. So you dying will be doing me no good." 

"Cursing is a sign of weakness, Sylus." 

He glared. "I paid twenty million on you little shit." 

"What?" My pupils blew wide open. "You did what now?" 

"Are you deaf?"

"No, but you're an idiot." I screwed my face at him, finding all these ridiculous. "You actually paid the money? For what? I took that bastard down, you didn't need to. Dammit, now I owe you twenty million." 

"Nobody said anything about debt." He frowned. 

I arched a brow at him. "Are you trying to be nice to me or what?"  

"I am trying to be a gentleman. It's just twenty million, I'd earn that back in a day."  

Oh? 

I slowly nodded my head. "First of all, you are anything but a gentleman. I am going to pay you that money back. I don't want anything from you, not someone like you." 

Sylus's face twisted in irritation. "Fine. How do you plan to pay me back?"  

"Well, I didn't think of that." I shrugged. "But I'll figure it out." 

"You better do, because you'll pay me back every single dime," he said silkily and turned, leaving for the closet room. "And you also should look at yourself in the mirror and maybe consider fixing that hair and taking off whatever that is you're wearing." 

"Oh." I instinctively glanced down at my dress, realizing the maids didn't change me. I chortled, rolling over on my belly, while my feet excitedly kicked back and forth in the air. "I can explain all this. I just didn't want to marry you, so I cut the dress up to get the wedding canceled and fought my father's men too. I actually came so close to escaping, but they knocked me out." 

There was a deafening silence between the both of us before he slowly turned to look at me. "You fought?"

My smile grew. "Just like you saw earlier. Impressive huh?"

There was this calculative, dangerous look in his eyes—one that I couldn't read. I'd expected him to say something—to make a certain kind of remark, but he turned, walking into the dressing closet. 

"Before I return, make sure you're out of my room." And he slammed the door shut. 

My lips cracked into a slow deliberate smile. 

"You'll have to make me!"