Chapter 8 Three Weeks
Mia froze, her breath catching. For a second, she thought she’d misheard.
“What… what did you say?” she whispered, staring at him in disbelief.
He closed the space between them. His hand lifted, fingers threading through her hair as he cupped the back of her head, drawing her closer.
“Marry me,” he repeated. “I’ll announce it to the world. You’ll have my name, my protection, and everything he denied you.”
Her eyes widened in shock, staring up at him. His gaze was serious yet hopeful, raw with sincerity, so intense it was almost painful.
‘Mr. Graves… he’s too generous. He’s even willing to risk his own reputation just to help me? But we’ve only known each other for less than a day. How could I possibly accept something like this?’
Her fingers reached up, wrapping around his wrist. “Mr. Graves…” she murmured.
She tried to pull his hand from her hair, freeing herself from his touch.
He resisted for a heartbeat, unwilling to let go, his gaze locked on the movement of her hand as her fingers tightened around his wrist. When she finally stepped back, putting some distance between them, his eyes followed her every motion.
“Mr. Graves… are you serious?” she asked quietly, nervousness flickering in her tone. The seriousness in his expression frightened her. He didn’t look like he was joking.
Alexander exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a moment as if to collect himself. Then, without a word, he turned and sat back down on the couch. His voice came out calmer, but edged with something wounded.
“It seems Miss Bennett doesn’t think I’m worthy of being in a relationship,” he said.
Mia’s eyes widened. “That’s not—”
“In your eyes,” he interrupted, his tone tightening, “I don’t compare to Mr. Sinclair.”
“No, that’s not true!” she rushed to sit beside him, hands raised in an attempt to soothe. But he continued before she could finish.
“I understand,” he said quietly, though his words dripped with disappointment. “People say I’m arrogant, rude, ruthless… even evil. By their standards, I am unworthy of anyone. How could I expect you to be willing to marry someone like me?”
Across the hall, Anita bit her lip to keep from laughing. She’d grown up seeing that look on Alexander’s face—the practiced expression of a man who knew exactly how to appear wounded.
Alexander’s gaze softened slightly, but his voice remained heavy with resignation. “It’s fine. I’ll probably die alone anyway. That’s what happens when the world hates you for your reputation.”
Mia’s heart clenched. The sadness in his voice tugged at her chest. She looked at him, her expression softening, her eyes filled with sympathy.
He turned his head, meeting her gaze once more, and asked in a quieter voice, “Don’t you think I’ve given you a perfect solution, Mia?
Wouldn’t it be nice to see your ex-husband watch you happy, admired, cherished—with everything he denied you right in front of his eyes? Wouldn’t that be the best revenge?”
She hesitated, then nodded faintly. “Yes… it would be.”
“Then,” he said firmly, leaning closer, “get married to me.”
She stared at him, her thoughts tumbling. ‘Could it really be true? Is he unable to find a wife because of the rumors about him?’ Her heart ached a little at the thought.
Tentatively, she asked, “If I consider marrying you… would it be in my control to leave the marriage whenever I want?”
Alexander’s eyes lit up, and a smile threatened to break free. ‘She’s thinking about our future already.’ He straightened, masking his joy, and said, “Yes. All control will be in your hands.”
Mia nodded thoughtfully. “Alright. I’ll think about it. I will accept our marriage as real… only after I’m certain you’re the one I want to spend my life with.”
Alexander leaned forward, curiosity flickering in his tone. “Until when?”
“Three years,” she said without hesitation.
He frowned. “Too long.”
“Three months?” she tried.
He shook his head.
“Three weeks. That’s it! I won’t go any lower!”
He blinked, a faint crease forming between his brows, but finally nodded. “All right. Three weeks it is.”
He extended his hand. She shook it. The warmth of his hand enveloped hers. As soon as their hands met, his joy was nearly impossible to contain. ‘Soon I’ll get to hold this hand every day. I just need to wait three more weeks.’
“Then let’s settle it properly,” Alexander said firmly, his deep voice cutting through the silence. “We’ll register the marriage first in court, and later, we can plan an official ceremony. How about we get our wedding rings this Monday?”
Mia’s eyes widened in disbelief. “This Monday?” Her voice nearly cracked as her gaze snapped up to him. “But… today’s Saturday. That’s only two days from now!”
“Yes.” His lips curved faintly. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek before cupping her face gently in his palm, drawing her closer.
“I’ll arrange everything,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin.
“You don’t have to worry about a thing. All you need to do is show up to get married. ”
Her heart skipped a beat. She was stunned, but deep down, she couldn’t find a reason to refuse. “Okay…” she managed in a low voice, lowering her gaze to hide her flustered expression, “Monday.”
***
Later that night, Mia lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows on the walls.
‘Did I really agree to marry a man I’ve known for less than a day?’ she thought, pressing her palms to her face. ‘What on earth has happened to my brain since I got here?!’
Her mind couldn’t make sense of what had happened. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t understand her own decisions or feelings. As she continued to stare at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts, a sudden knock came from the door.
“Mia?”
It was Alexander’s voice.
She froze. Her heart gave a startled jump as she quickly sat up. Then, almost by instinct, she stood and went toward the door—but her hand stopped halfway on the knob.
“What is he doing here at this hour?” she muttered. “It’s almost midnight…”
Still, curiosity won. She took a quiet breath and opened the door.
Alexander stood there, dressed casually in a dark shirt and sweatpants. His hair was slightly damp, as if he’d just showered. In one hand, he held a glass of warm milk; in the other, a small box of medicine.
“Mr. Graves?” she asked, blinking in confusion. “What are you doing here?”
He gave a faint smile. “I brought you this,” he said, lifting the glass slightly.
“A glass of milk and some medicine. I thought you might have trouble sleeping in a new place. And this,” he gestured to the box, “is for your foot. I noticed you have a small injury. It’ll help with the pain and stop you from limping later.
I can massage it for you; it’ll feel better in no time. ”
Mia stared at the glass, then at his calm face.
“That’s… very thoughtful of you, Mr. Graves.
” She fidgeted with her fingers, hesitation in her voice.
“But… I should warn you about something.” She bit her lip.
“I sometimes sleepwalk. You might want to keep your door locked at night. I don’t want to cause you any trouble. ”
For a brief moment, Alexander’s grip on the glass tightened.
The thought of her unknowingly stepping into his room—his bed—flashed through his mind for a second, and he felt his chest tighten with an emotion he shouldn’t feel.
But he quickly composed himself, hiding the flicker of excitement behind a calm smile.
“Sleepwalking usually comes from anxiety and restlessness,” he said smoothly. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t mind. You can consider this your own home. Wander wherever you like.” His voice softened. “I’ll make sure the main door has some extra locks so you don’t accidentally wander outside.”
Her breath hitched slightly. Those words—consider this your own home—hit harder than she expected.
A memory flashed in her mind.
It had started shortly after her marriage to James. The sleepwalking came a few months in. Many nights, she would wake up standing somewhere else in the house, disoriented, trembling.
The first time, she’d knocked over a drawer in the hallway, the crash jerking her awake. Before she could even gather her thoughts, James had stormed out of the bedroom, irritation written across his face.
“What the hell are you doing in the middle of the night? Are you out of your mind?” he’d snapped.
Terrified and confused, she had stammered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t realize. I was sleepwalking…?”
But James hadn’t even let her finish. He’d turned away sharply. “Let me sleep, Mia. I have work tomorrow. You can stay in bed all day, but I can’t. Don’t disturb me again!”
That night, she hadn’t dared to close her eyes again. The fear had stayed ever since.
From then on, she learned to fight her sleep, afraid of embarrassing herself again. But it still happened—again and again—beyond her control.
Now, looking at Alexander, who didn’t seem the least bit bothered even after she’d warned him, made her chest tighten with an unfamiliar warmth.
Alexander took a small step forward, his gaze lowering to her injured foot. His tone softened. “Let me take care of your foot first. Then I’ll give you a little massage. It’ll help you relax. If we do it regularly, it might stop your sleepwalking altogether.”
Mia blinked in surprise. “Mr. Graves, you seem to know a lot about medicine and injuries. Have you studied it before?”
He smiled faintly. “With our malls, I also manage our hospital groups. I’ve learned a lot about treatments and rehabilitation through that.” Her lips parted in surprise again, but before she could respond, he continued, “But to help you properly, I’ll have to touch you. Is that all right?”
Mia hesitated, her cheeks warming. Then, after a quiet second, she nodded. “Yes.”