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She quietly returned to the bedroom, freshened up, and came back to the table.
Christian was already seated, waiting for her in silence like a well-behaved child. When she took her seat, he served her breakfast, sliding the plate toward her.
"Eat," he instructed.
She picked up her fork and started eating.
A satisfied smile tugged at his lips. He served himself as well. But every now and then, his gaze flickered toward her between bites.
Midway through the meal, Ivy suddenly spoke.
"Is tomorrow alright for getting married?"
Christian’s hand froze mid-air, his spoon hovering just above his plate. His eyes snapped to her face, searching for any sign that she was joking. But when she met his gaze without hesitation, he realized he hadn’t misheard.
“Why did you agree?” His voice was quiet, almost cautious. “Do you really want to marry me?”
Ivy took another bite of her eggs. “Does it matter?” she asked casually.
Christian dropped his spoon onto his plate, his brows furrowing. “It does matter. Answer me. Why did you agree?”
Ivy frowned. “Why are you questioning it when you’re the one who asked me in the first place?” She exhaled sharply, giving him a small, knowing smile. “See? I was right. You’re proving me right. You don’t love me. It’s all just a fantasy you want to turn into reality. It’s not love.”
“Ivy,” Christian interrupted, his face darkening. His voice dropped an octave, quiet, yet laced with intensity. “Do you even understand what marriage is? Getting married to me means you’ll spend every waking moment with me. You’ll be around me all the time. You’ll live under my roof, in my bedroom, in my bed. Have you thought about that?”
"I have," she answered calmly. "And I’m telling you—I’ll marry you."
He studied her face, searching for something—anything—that would give him clarity.
His voice lowered, his tone unreadable. “Are you agreeing just to get rid of me?”
Frustration flashed across Ivy’s face. She put down her spoon with a sharp clink, looking straight at him.
"Christian, what else do you think this is? You asked to be with me, I agreed. You asked for marriage, I agreed! What else do you want from me? What more should I do to please you? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? Isn’t this why you’ve been hovering around me all this time? So why do you have a damn problem now that I’m saying yes?"
Christian didn’t look pleased. If anything, he looked a little angry.
Suddenly, he stood up. In one swift motion, he leaned forward, his face inches from hers. Before she could react, his hand slid to the back of her head, threading his fingers through her hair as his lips crashed against hers.
It wasn’t soft—it was raw, urgent. His mouth claimed hers with a fierce hunger, his lips pressing hard, parting hers as his tongue slid inside, tasting her deeply. The heat of his breath mingled with hers, and a low, guttural sound escaped from his throat as he deepened the kiss. His grip tightened, holding her head still as his tongue tangled with hers, rough and possessive.
Just as suddenly, he pulled back, his breathing uneven. His gaze burned into hers, his thumb brushing her swollen bottom lip as he studied her with dark intensity.
“Think it over,” he murmured. “And then answer me. If you say the same thing again, I’ll marry you.”
***
As they stepped outside her apartment building, Ivy adjusted her bag over her shoulder.
“You can go back,” she told him. Ivy’s voice was calm as they stepped out of her building. She was dressed for work
Christian, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, glanced at the car waiting for him at the entrance.
"I’m leaving for work," she added, turning to walk away.
Before she could take another step, Christian swiftly caught up to her, scooping her into his arms and carrying her toward the car.
“Christian!” she hissed, struggling. “Put me down!”