Chapter 11 Looking For A Husband #2
Her gaze drifted to his face. Up close, sleeping, he looked unfairly perfect. His sharp features were softened in slumber, lashes casting delicate shadows across his cheeks. She found herself staring, unable to look away, mesmerized by the quiet intensity of him.
‘He really is quite handsome,’ she thought, her eyes unconsciously tracing the line of his jaw even in her mind. ‘No wonder every woman in this city is so desperate to marry him.’
Her lips twitched as another thought crossed her mind.
‘If he wasn’t rich, he still wouldn’t have had trouble getting wealthy easily. That face… he could’ve married anyone he wanted. Or,’ she mused suddenly, ‘he could’ve been a pole dancer at some upscale club, and women would’ve thrown money at him anyway.’
The image hit her instantly—Magnus, scantily dressed, gripping the pole, performing sexy moves, the stage lights catching every curve of his body, every eye in the room glued to him.
Her lips twitched again. She pressed them together quickly, trying to hide the smile that threatened to surface.
The very idea was ridiculous.
This cold, arrogant man… suddenly wearing a seductive, teasing expression while dancing?
Her shoulders shook hard as she stifled the laugh bubbling up in her chest.
Her hand shifted unconsciously, brushing against his neckline. She froze, heart hammering. Before she realized it, her fingertips had slid down, grazing the firm planes of his chest.
Her breath hitched.
The muscles beneath her fingers were solid, defined. Her mouth suddenly felt dry.
Her fingers halted mid-motion. ‘What the hell am I doing? He’s just my contract husband. Not a real one. I need to stop thirsting after him!’
Startled by her own thoughts, she snatched her hand back, pressing it against her chest as if to regain control.
Then she lifted his arm from around her waist and, with careful movements, placed it back on the pillow—making sure not to wake him.
Once free, she slipped out of bed, her heart still pounding hard against her ribs. She hurried into the bathroom, the floor cool beneath her bare feet, and leaned against the sink, gripping its edge as she tried to steady herself.
The chill of the porcelain seeped into her palms as she drew a shaky breath, willing her racing pulse to slow.
An hour later, after dressing in the same dress as yesterday, she hurriedly made her way downstairs.
Camila was already sitting on the couch, the morning sun highlighting her gentle smile. The moment she saw Sophia, her face lit up.
“Good morning, Sophia,” she said warmly.
“Good morning, Mrs. Graves,” Sophia replied, returning the smile, her own nerves easing slightly.
“Heading to work already?” Camila asked, tilting her head slightly, curiosity in her tone.
Sophia nodded. “I need to rush. My friend is waiting outside.”
“Bring her inside,” Camila suggested. “You can both have breakfast first.”
Sophia gave a small, apologetic smile. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I have an auction in an hour, so I really need to leave. I’ll bring her home next time—I promise.”
“All right,” Camila said gently, rising from the couch. She picked up an orange and an apple from the table and placed them in Sophia’s hands. “At least eat something on the way. You can’t go hungry.”
Sophia’s fingers closed around the fruit, warmth spreading from the gesture. “Thank you,” she murmured, sincere.
She didn’t linger.
Rushing out of the house, she felt the crisp morning air brush her face. On the main road, a sleek black car waited, engine quietly humming.
Sophia hurried over and climbed inside.
Emma sat in the driver’s seat, sunglasses perched neatly on her nose, one elbow resting casually against the open window.
Her posture was relaxed yet confident. She wore a long, light blue ankle-length dress that hugged her figure perfectly, the soft fabric shifting gently with each small movement she made.
As Sophia settled into the passenger seat, adjusting her bag and pulling the door shut, Emma stared at her with a bright, knowing smile.
“Good morning, princess.”
Sophia laughed instantly, her eyes lighting up as she leaned back into the seat. “Good morning, my love.”
She shook her head, amused, buckling her seatbelt.
Emma grinned, starting the engine with an easy flick of her wrist. “Today’s auction is at that famous hotel you love.”
“At Spring Seasons?” Sophia asked, straightening slightly, excitement creeping into her voice.
“Yes.” Emma nodded, easing the car onto the road. “It’s going to be an amazing day. First, we handle the auction in the hotel hall, and once all the work is done, I’m treating you to dinner.”
Sophia turned toward her, smile widening. “You’re the best. Thank you, boss.”
Emma smiled back, eyes briefly flicking to Sophia before returning to the road, the corners of her lips still curved as the car picked up speed.
“So,” Emma drawled a moment later, glancing sideways at her over the rim of her sunglasses, “how was your night at your mother-in-law’s house?”
Sophia rolled her eyes, though a reluctant smile tugged at her mouth. She reached for the coffee cup resting in the holder between them and shoved it toward Emma, nudging it against her arm.
“Shut up and drink your coffee. Why are you so nosy?”
Emma ignored the cup entirely, leaning back in her seat, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Come on. You didn’t tell me anything! Tell me—how was it?
Did you and Magnus sleep in each other’s arms?
Did you kids do naughty things? Who was more aggressive?
” She grinned wider. “You, right? You must be taking out all that anger on the poor man—”
“Emma!” Sophia hissed, leaning closer instinctively. She glanced toward the open window on Emma’s side and whispered. “Lower your voice. Your window is open. Everyone outside can hear you very clearly.”
Emma smirked but leaned back, one hand lifting in mock surrender.
Sophia exhaled, rubbing her temple before speaking quietly. “Nothing happened. I promise. We didn’t do anything. Yes, we slept in the same bed, but we do that every day anyway.” Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. “He’s not interested in me at all.”
She paused, gaze drifting toward the windshield as her voice dropped even further.
“And nothing is ever going to happen between us. We’re not from the same world. It’s just a marriage bound by a contract.” She swallowed softly. “And it’ll be over soon.”
The car continued down the road, the hum of the engine filling the space between them.
***
A few minutes after Sophia left the house, Magnus shifted in bed.
The sudden cold made him frown.
His arm moved instinctively, sweeping across the mattress, searching for warmth—for her—but his hand met only cold sheets.
His eyes opened.
He stared at the space beside him, then turned his head sharply toward the bathroom. Empty.
‘That damn woman.’ His lips pressed into a thin, displeased line. ‘Couldn’t she sleep a little longer? She runs off the moment she wakes up. Doesn’t sleep with me. Doesn’t wake up with me. What does she even want?’
Annoyance surged through him.
He slammed his hand down onto the empty pillow beside him, the dull thud echoing his irritation as something tight and uncomfortable settled in his chest.
Sleep was gone for good.
Magnus swung his legs off the bed and stood, movements sharp and restless. He headed into the bathroom and dressed quickly, fingers tugging impatiently at his clothes.
When he came out, he went downstairs and into the living room, his movements unhurried, almost casual. His gaze drifted around the space, sweeping over the furniture, the open doors, the quiet corners—expectant, searching.
Secretly looking for Sophia.
But there was no sign of her.
He walked into the kitchen, glancing around as he moved, his eyes flicking instinctively toward the counter, the doorway, the breakfast table. He headed straight for the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. As he shut the door, his eyes lifted again, scanning the room for Sophia.
Still no sign of her.
His fingers tightened around the bottle, the plastic crinkling slightly under his grip. His jaw clenched, his face darkening into a frown.
‘Where the hell did she go?’ Restlessness crept under his skin.
The maids in the kitchen froze for a split second at Magnus’s sudden presence, exchanging quick, startled looks.
He placed the bottle back on the counter without taking a single sip. As he straightened, his expression hard and impatient, the maids immediately turned away, pretending they hadn’t noticed him at all.
He searched the house again—down the hallway, past the stairs, then stepped into the garden.
Nothing.
Sophia was nowhere to be found.
The longer he looked, the heavier the irritation settled in his chest, tightening with every passing second. Since they had gotten married, this was the first time he hadn’t seen her since he woke up.
By the time he returned to the living room, the impatience was written plainly across his face. His jaw was clenched tight, tension pulsing visibly beneath his skin.
Turning around, he strode back inside.
Camila was seated comfortably on the couch in the living room, legs crossed, sipping her tea while flipping through a magazine.
Magnus strode toward her at once. “Mom,” he said, his voice tight, controlled. “Have you seen Sophia?”
Camila lifted her gaze from the magazine.
“She went to work,” she replied. “Didn’t she tell you before leaving?”
The nerve on his forehead twitched slightly.
That alone was answer enough for Camila.
The displeasure on his face was clear as day.
His teeth clenched hard as he turned abruptly and stormed out of the house again, his steps heavy as he headed back into the garden.
His hand went to the belt at his waist, fingers hooking into the leather as he tilted his head up, the sunlight cutting across his face.
“Sophia Graves,” he muttered under his breath, a hard edge creeping into his voice. “I was sleeping right next to you. And you didn’t even bother to say a word before leaving?!”
He let out a harsh breath, turning his face away, the openness around him doing nothing but feeding the tension coiled in his chest.
She had left the house without a word, and for some reason, it sat wrong with him far more than it should have.
It wasn’t as if she had disappeared forever. It shouldn’t matter. She had only gone to work.
And yet…
Frustrated by his own thoughts, he turned back toward the house. He went inside and headed straight for the stairs to grab his things and leave for work.
Just as his foot landed on the first step, Camila’s voice stopped him.
“Magnus?”
He froze mid-step and turned toward her.
“Come here,” Camila said calmly. “Sit with me for a minute.”
Camila had closed her magazine and was watching him expectantly.
For a brief second, Magnus didn’t move. Then he exhaled through his nose and walked toward her,.
Camila turned her head slightly toward the kitchen, her posture relaxed, her voice unhurried. “Can anyone bring coffee for Magnus?” she called. “Black.”
Immediately, one of the maids appeared at the doorway, bowing her head slightly. “Yes, Mrs. Graves,” she said, before disappearing back inside.
Magnus took a seat beside Camila, his back straight, one arm resting casually along the back of the chair, fingers relaxed. A moment later, a maid appeared and placed a cup of black coffee on the table in front of him, the porcelain making a soft clink against the glass surface.
He reached for it without looking, long fingers wrapping around the expensive china. He took a slow sip, then turned his head toward Camila, eyes settling on her face, waiting.
Camila turned toward him, her expression serious.
“Your marriage with Sophia will end in a few weeks.”
Magnus lowered the cup slightly and forced himself to take another sip. His gaze drifted forward, unfocused.
Camila continued, as if she hadn’t noticed.
“I’ve thought about it,” she said, her brow faintly furrowed. “About your relationship with Sophia. I’ve come to realize there’s no need to continue it anymore.”
Magnus’s hand froze midair. The cup never reached his lips again.
“What do you mean?” he asked, finally turning to look at her, eyes fixed.
“I don’t mind if you get divorced later,” Camila said, her voice steady. “There’s no reason to drag this out.”
The cup in Magnus’s hand tilted just slightly, the coffee inside rippling against the edge—but his grip didn’t loosen.
Camila continued, her tone even. “I want to put an end to this mess before it escalates.”
She shifted in her seat and faced him fully now, meeting his gaze head-on. “Sophia is a good girl. I want her to have a good life. I don’t want to ruin her future for nothing.”
With every word, Magnus’s expression darkened. His jaw tightened, a faint muscle ticking at his temple, his eyes turning cold but Camila pretended not to see it. She kept speaking, detached, almost indifferent.
“If the two of you have no feelings for each other, there’s no reason to force this marriage.”
Magnus said nothing.
The silence stretched. His jaw clenched harder, teeth grinding slightly as his fingers tightened around the cup until his knuckles paled.
Then he lifted the cup and set it down on the table with a sharp, controlled motion.
Camila immediately continued, not giving him even a second to interrupt.
“Mila trusted me to take care of her granddaughter. So I will take care of Sophia for the rest of my life.”
Then she added, as if discussing something completely ordinary, “Once you get divorced, I’ll host a party immediately. I’ll invite every good family we have connections with and introduce her as my adopted daughter.” She paused briefly. “That way, we can find her a better match.”
Magnus’s head snapped toward her.
For the first time, he couldn’t hide it.
Shock flashed across his face. His brows drew together, his eyes widening just slightly before darkening.
“Are you serious?!” he snapped. “You’re going to host a party to introduce her as your adopted daughter—to look for a husband for her?”