Amelia was beyond tired. If there were another word for "fatigue" in the dictionary, she'd have used it three times over.
Clearly, she hadn't thought through the consequences of moving in—today of all days.
She'd spent the entire afternoon arranging her things, not even realizing when time flew past. In hindsight, maybe she should've accepted her assistant's offer to help, but no—her ego was too loud. Too proud. And now her arms were screaming and her feet were plotting mutiny.
She didn't realize how much stuff she owned until she started hauling it around. And she still had things left in her study. No one was allowed in there. That room was off-limits. At least she still had her notebook.
Well, she was finally done. Time to take a breath and look around.
When she arrived a few hours ago, she'd noticed something odd: no security. Not any serious kind, anyway. She could hack into his system in ten minutes, maybe less if she skipped the coffee break. His CCTV? Child's play.
Still... something didn't add up. Everything about Asher screamed control, and this place felt too open, too accessible. It tickled her assassin senses. Something was off.
She was still deep in thought when she heard the hum of Asher's car pulling in.
Guess the tour would have to wait.
She headed downstairs just as he stepped inside, holding up a paper bag.
"I had a feeling you wouldn't cook. Good thing I brought dinner," he said with a smile.
Amelia blinked. She hadn't even noticed the bag.
"I was busy unpacking," she replied, walking over to take it from him.
"Or maybe... you don't know how to cook?" he teased.
Amelia glared.
"I can cook. I'll prove it right now—"
"Hey, hey! I was kidding. Gosh, where's your sense of humor?" he said, hands raised in mock surrender.
She rolled her eyes. "Go take a shower. I'll set the table before you come down."
Back upstairs, Asher showered quickly and dialed Ryan.
"You guys can handle that," he said. "Just update me if anything changes."
They were finally closing in on something. After all this time, they had a real lead. He was this close to getting revenge for his mother.
But first—Amelia.
When he came back down, she was already at the dining table, scribbling in a notebook. He didn't miss it—looked almost like a diary. Interesting.
"I thought you'd fallen asleep," she said, snapping it closed.
"Business call," he replied simply, sliding into the seat across from her.
He had bought pasta—his favorite—and even gotten dessert. Cake. He could live on pasta and be perfectly happy. Honestly, it was one of the few things that reminded him of his mother.
"I have a question," she said mid-meal.
He raised a brow. "A question?"
"Why exactly did you want to marry me?"
Boom.
He didn't flinch, but that one caught him off guard. Out of the million questions she could've asked, he hadn't expected that one. Not now, anyway.
"If I told you I fell in love at first sight... would you believe me?" he said, watching her reaction.
She scoffed. "I didn't know I had a joker for a husband. What other surprises should I expect?"
"Well," he said with a smirk, "the thing about surprises is... you're not supposed to see them coming. Spoils the fun."
Another eye roll. She was getting good at those.
"Anyway, as for your question... Let's just say I'm your karma. The one God sent to deal with your sins."
Her fork paused mid-air. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He didn't answer. Just smiled.
She hated that smile.
It was calm. Controlled. Like he could see straight through her—and worse, like he liked what he saw.
"Karma?" she muttered to herself. She didn't believe in that crap. And even if it was real, no way was he her karma. Too clean. Too rich. Too smug.
But for now, the truce held.
Later that night, it hit her. They were supposed to sleep in the same bed. Together.
Sure, she'd had one-night stands, but this? This was different. This was awkward.
Asher must've sensed it, because he excused himself, saying he had work to do in his study.
Bless the heavens.
Finally, she could do what she did best—observe, plan, and strike when the moment was right.
She needed to know his weak points, routines, secrets. She needed to move in the shadows, unnoticed. And for that, she needed time.
She had a feeling Asher wasn't just some rich CEO. There was more beneath the surface—she could feel it in her bones. And her instincts? They'd never failed her before.
So for now, she'd wait.
The rest of the night passed quietly. Asher didn't return to the room, not while she was awake. And honestly, she didn't mind. The space was hers, for now.
She pulled her notebook closer and scribbled down a few notes, the moonlight casting a soft glow across the bed.
Tomorrow would bring new questions.
But tonight... she rested.