A CEO's Revenge Marriage Accidentally in Love

fuck’s sake!

Still, I don’t want to point that out. It would be admitting my heart is broken, and I don’t

want to show myself as vulnerable, so what do I do?

I lose my temper like an asshole.

“That’s none of your business…” I growl.

Hannah winces at my words, tone—I don’t know. The point is that she looks scared, kind of

like she has seen a ghost. It baffles me.

If I scare her so much, why did she agree to marry me?

And most importantly, do I look scary?

I never considered myself intimidating, but then again, I rarely ask what other people think

of me. Neither do I care. I suppose I’m tall. Perhaps that’s enough to enter the scary-man

territory?

But I would like to think of myself as handsome…

“Well…” Hannah looks uncomfortable. Her lips are trembling, and she avoids eye contact.

“W-which room should I take?”

Is she serious?

“You’re obviously sleeping in the master bedroom.”

“Oh.”

She looks relieved.

“With me,” I add.

“Oh…”

And now Hannah looks like I’ve told her I’m going to take her out into the forest at night to

murder her. Like, what the fuck? Is the thought of sharing a bed with me that terrible?! My

ex-wife cheated on me, and now this one looks at me like I’m a wanted criminal!

My blood is pumping. “Just follow me.”

Hannah doesn’t listen to me ordering her around. Instead, she grabs my hand, shocking me

beyond belief. I turn around, losing my train of thought for a moment, until I see her bright

smile.

My eyes narrow. “Why are you smiling?”

She releases my hand but doesn’t back down. Neither does my irritated tone wipe the

sweet smile from her lips. “You’re angry.”

“I’m not angry.” Irritated, yes. Angry? No.

Ignoring me, she smiles and beams brighter than the goddamn sun. “Do you know what I do

when I’m feeling like I’m under a heavy rain cloud?”

Under a heavy rain cloud? Is that an idiom? Who the fuck uses expressions when they talk?

A clown? A therapist, or perhaps a kindergarten teacher? She is weird—a nutcase.

Still, I’m darkly amused. “No, what do you do?” Tell me so that I can laugh at you.

“I take a deep breath,” Hannah takes a dramatic deep breath filling her chest with air.

“Count to three,” she is now slowly exhaling while keeping her smile. “And then I let it out

while shaking my hands.”

I stare at her while she shakes her little hands, rattles them really, and that’s when it hits

me, “Did I marry a crazy person?”

She continues the motion as she speaks. “I’m not crazy. This is a proven method of letting

go of your inner anger and moving on. I promise you this will help you deal with your pent-

up stress and anger.” Her fingers are still moving. Actually, her whole body is. She looks like

an excited Golden Retriever.

I can’t help but laugh under my breath. “If I did that in front of the people at my office, I

would be taken to the loony bin…”

She stops moving her fingers. “Don’t joke about that! I have friends there, and some of

them are really nice.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course, you have friends there…”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Am I?” I don’t smile or move a facial muscle, but I’m laughing on the inside. Hannah is a

spaz.

“You’re being mean…”

“Not surprising, considering I’m not a very nice person,” I meet her eyes in the dimly lit

hallway. And just because I can, I take a step toward her with a growing smirk. “Does that

upset you?”

Hannah backs into the wall, pressing her hands against it. Her eyes are wide with fear, and

her bottom lip is trembling. She looks as if I might punch her. Why? I already said I wouldn’t

hurt her…

“Yes,” Hannah mumbles. “You’re… upsetting me right now.”

“Then perhaps you should take a deep breath and shake your fingers, you know, to calm

down and all that,” I mock.

Hannah doesn’t find my sarcastic tone funny. Her eyes glisten with hurt when she speaks to

me. “You’re an asshole.”

I laugh. “At least we both agree on something…”

Hannah stares at me, puzzled by my words. I don’t blame her. Another person might defend

themself, but not me. No. Because there isn’t a single person in this world who hates me

more than myself.

I sigh and walk forward. “Anyway, we should head upstairs. It’s late, and I need a shower.

Come.”

Hannah reluctantly follows me upstairs. She is silent, but her eyes spark with wonder the

second she sees the master bedroom. It pleases me. I designed it myself.

“Do you like the room?” I ask while grabbing the hems of my shirt.

“A lot,” she says without turning around. “It’s not… what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” I don’t know why I’m so curious to hear what she expected to find

inside my bedroom.

“Something less… personal.” I think I see her face turn pink, but I’m unsure since she isn’t

facing me. I watch her drag her fingers over a carved wooden sculpture I made myself.

My eyes zero in on Hannah like a hawk. My ex-wife found my wood-carving hobby boring,

but Hannah looks impressed by the sculpture and is wearing a wondrous expression.

I like that I made her eyes huge. I decide and continue talking, which is highly unlike me.

“What do you mean by less personal?”

“Oh, just that… I had this picture of rich people having stale bedrooms. You know? Less

stuff, white walls, and white furniture. Or black. The point is that they color-code

everything.”

A laugh slips out of my mouth, and I toss my shirt on the armchair in the corner of the

room. “Not my style. The rest of the house is definitely modern and color-coded, but not my

bedroom.”

She is still studying sculpture. “Why is that?”

I find myself unable to answer her question.

I know the answer: because the bedroom is where I tear down my walls. It’s the little space

where I can breathe and truly be myself. But it’s a vulnerable answer, so I choose silence.

This, in return, makes Hannah turns around. At first, she is shyly smiling, but then she

shrieks. “W-why are you getting undressed?!”

My lips curl into a smirk.

Hannah is funny. By shrieking, she makes it seem like seeing me naked is terrible. Yet she

isn’t looking away.

Her eyes are plastered to my naked torso, and I must admit that I love the look of awe and

admiration in her eyes. After my ex-wife cheated on me, I thought something was wrong

with me. I spend countless hours at the gym, and now, it’s all paying off.

“I hope you understand we will share a bed and that no sane person sleeps in clothes.”

Hannah is still staring at me, and I breathe a laugh. She is raking me up and down as if

there might be a test later. It’s funny. The woman saw me naked earlier but still looks just as

shocked.

My chest swells, and my devil horns grow. “Let me know when you’re done ogling me. I

need to take a shower, but I wouldn’t want to interrupt something. In case you’re taking

mental pictures to later remember for inspiration or something.”

It shouldn’t be possible, but her face turns into a deeper shade of red, and I chuckle in

amusement. The poor thing looks like she might pass out, so I turn around to enter the

bathroom.

As I enter the shower area, I’m wearing a big smile—Hannah finds me attractive—why does

that please me?