Chapter 62 Alaric's Thoughtfulness, Cecilia's Gratitude
“Darling.” Cecilia’s melodious voice seemed to resonate deep within Alaric, touching a hidden part of his heart.
She noticed his Adam’s apple bobbing, a clear sign of the emotions he was concealing. Although her hands shielded his eyes, she sensed the tension coursing through his body, as if a palpable heat was emanating from him, almost burning her palm.
In the next moment, he responded, his voice carrying a husky yet magnetic quality, “Yes.”
His reaction to being called "darling" caused Cecilia to blush. The term of endearment felt foreign to her, making her feel both uneasy and shy.
Memories of her ten-year marriage to Dominic surfaced—they had never used such intimate terms. Now, here she was, addressing Alaric in a manner she had never dared with Dominic, and on the very first night of their marriage.
Her sudden irritation puzzled her; she couldn’t understand why she felt this inexplicable anger. “Can you agree now?” she huffed.
Despite her irritation, she chose to trust him. She didn’t have much of a choice. Although it was her decision to partner with Alaric, he seemed to be the one leading every step of the way.
Cecilia gradually, albeit nervously, removed her hands from his eyes. She watched him closely as he kept them gently closed, his long eyelashes casting shadows under the light.
Quietly, she moved away from him. Without a stitch of clothing except her red high heels, she hurriedly fled the room, afraid he might suddenly open his eyes and see her fully exposed.
But in fact, Alaric did not open his eyes. He remained standing there, lost in thought, until the room’s heat dissipated entirely. Only then did he finally open his eyes, gazing at the empty room and the wedding dress left abandoned on the floor. He looked at it for a long moment before a small smile curved his lips. Stepping past the wedding dress, he headed straight for the bathroom.
Meanwhile, Cecilia had completed her bath. She removed her makeup and applied a face mask. The last time she was here, the room had toothbrushes and towels but lacked other essential supplies. This time, however, everything she might need had been meticulously prepared, even underwear.
The most surprising of all was Alaric's large walk-in closet. Once filled with men’s clothing, it now held an array of women’s clothing, each piece brand new with tags and perfectly in Cecilia’s size.
Cecilia was deeply moved. She lay on the bed, her mind awhirl with the considerate preparations Alaric had made. Although she had contemplated moving her belongings to his place beforehand, Alaric’s lack of a clear response deterred her. She had assumed she would have to make do for the night and arrange for her items to be brought the next day.
But here she was, comfortable and cared for in every way.
Cecilia removed the face mask, rinsed her face, and applied the high-end skincare products Alaric had thoughtfully provided. Her skin, previously a bit dry, now absorbed the luxurious essences, rendering it radiant and velvety smooth to the touch.
Once she lay back on the bed and turned off the lights, she closed her eyes and let the events of the day wash over her. The whirlwind of occurrences felt like a surprise, not just to Dominic, but likely to anyone in her situation.
Even Cecilia herself doubted whether everything she was experiencing was real.
A small, cynical smile played on her lips as she wondered if she had somehow died and was now navigating an elaborate afterlife of her own subconscious making.
'No,' she reassured herself. The sensations, the emotions, the fatigue - all of it was undeniably real. She turned over, trying to still her racing thoughts. She was utterly exhausted and desperately needed rest.
The next morning, she was roused by a knock at the door, pulling her from the depths of a pleasant, albeit now forgotten, dream. She slid out of bed, slightly irked by the interruption, and opened the door.
Alaric leaned casually against the door frame. "Today, we need to go back to the Whitaker family," he stated with a mixture of casualness and urgency.
Cecilia looked up at him, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"Unless you want them to know our marriage is fake," he added, his tone nonchalant.
Cecilia certainly didn't want anyone to uncover their pretense, the potential scandal would make her the subject of endless gossip and ridicule. Not to mention, explaining the deception to the Whitaker elders seemed an impossible task.
“Give me half an hour," she replied, shutting the door more forcefully than she intended. Behind the closed door, Alaric's smile widened. He turned and descended the stairs.
Cecilia didn't attempt to go back to sleep. She still felt the remnants of yesterday’s fatigue but knew she couldn't succumb to laziness now. She quickly freshened up and went to the walk-in closet, which felt almost like a mid-sized boutique in its array of fashion choices
She selected a light pink dress complemented by a white coat, an ensemble that struck the perfect balance of warmth and elegance. Her light makeup further enhanced her fresh appearance, ideal for meeting the family elders.
Descending the stairs, she spotted Alaric at a distance. He was seated at an outdoor dining table, engrossed in a newspaper, and nibbling on breakfast. Clad in a white shirt and khaki slim-fit casual pants, his effortless charm was undeniable, making it difficult to avert her gaze.
Determined, Cecilia forced herself to look away and approached him.
Alaric, noticing her arrival, gracefully set aside his newspaper and stood up to pull out a chair for her with the courtesy of a true gentleman.
“Thank you,” she murmured, briefly meeting his eyes before looking away.
A smile tugged at Alaric's lips. There was an unexpected softness in his expression, making his already handsome features even more captivating.