The Wedding Night Contract
"Our rooms have the exact same layout. Keep that in mind," Curtis said as he stepped inside.
His quarters were exceptionally luxurious. Only the King himself would normally occupy a suite of this scale. Then again, it was only natural, considering the estate had originally been built as a summer palace for the Queen. Though the other rooms in Berk Mansion were on the smaller side, the master suite was on an entirely different level.
In addition to a grand parlor, there were two dressing rooms dedicated solely to clothes and jewelry. There was also a separate toilette room for grooming, a bedroom as spacious as the parlor itself, an attached bath, a maid's chamber, and a private office for handling light paperwork. With twenty-seven beautifully embroidered chairs and sofas scattered throughout, and a magnificent four-poster bed dominating the bedroom, it was a chamber fit for royalty.
"I'll show you Your Grace's room tomorrow," Julia said with a bright smile as she helped Chloe out of her gown.
Curtis cast a sidelong glance at Chloe. For some reason, she seemed completely dazed, letting the maid move her like a doll.
"Breakfast tomorrow at eight, as usual," Curtis instructed.
Julia looked up, puzzled. "Pardon me, Your Grace, but I understood you had no schedule tomorrow. I thought perhaps you would prefer a later meal..."
Curtis let out a soft chuckle, casting a highly suggestive look at his new Grand Duchess. "I have a feeling I'll be ravenous tomorrow morning."
"Oh my!" Julia gasped, her cheeks instantly flushing. She hurriedly folded the gown in her hands, casting a sly, giggling glance at Chloe.
The woman who had been his aide, and was now his Grand Duchess, looked as if she were trying to smile, though Curtis alone caught the subtle twitch in her cheek.
Julia whispered to the Grand Duchess in a sing-song voice, "Shall I tend to your hair, Your Grace?"
"Ah, no. I'm fine, Julia," Chloe Amboise replied, her hand reflexively flying to clasp the tight braid pinned flat against the back of her head.
Watching her, Curtis suppressed a laugh.
The servants must have been utterly bewildered.
She was a newlywed bride. No doubt a small army of maids had descended upon her, eager to style the Grand Duchess's hair into soft, voluminous curls. Yet Her Grace had stubbornly insisted on a hairstyle that made her look like an eighty-year-old matron. She had paired this with a face completely devoid of makeup.
The reason, of course, was that the Grand Duke sharing her bed absolutely detested the touch of stray hair. But to the maids, who had to style a fresh bride in such a severe fashion without knowing the reason, it must have been maddening.
Ignorant of the circumstances, Julia merely tilted her head in confusion. "But surely you cannot sleep with it like that..."
"It's fine, I'll take care of it myself!"
Since she insisted, the servants could hardly press the issue. Besides, they had all just witnessed the head butler being disciplined with laps for failing to notice the Grand Duke's fatigue.
"Then we shall take our leave."
"We will be right outside the door, so please call for us if you need anything."
As she backed away, the clueless Julia gave Chloe a stealthy, encouraging gesture. Have a wonderful night! she mouthed silently.
It was almost comical. Stealthy? Curtis could see her perfectly. Everyone is hoping for the impossible, he thought dryly.
Regardless of their antics, Chloe remained frozen in place even after the bedroom door clicked shut, staring intently at the wood.
Curtis ignored her stiffness and walked over to the bedside table. The servants had laid out light refreshments, wine, and a scented candle—a classic setup for a pair of newlyweds.
As he poured the wine, the sound of footsteps echoing in the parlor grew distant, followed by the heavy thud of the outer door closing.
The man approached the motionless woman and lightly pressed the side of the cool wine glass against her rounded cheek. "Are you standing there saying your prayers?"
"Ah!" Startled by the icy touch against her skin, Chloe gasped and spun around.
Her widened pink eyes caught the candlelight, glowing with a brilliant, amber-orange hue. Those clear eyes held nothing but pure bewilderment at his sudden proximity.
Why was it? The moment he looked into those eyes, a streak of mischief flared within him. Perhaps it was because her face was so utterly serene, completely oblivious to the turbulent thoughts that had plagued him since this afternoon.
And so, he spoke.
"You are the first woman to ever enter my bedroom, Lieutenant."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Chloe blinked. Her gaze wavered for a fraction of a second before narrowing. Then, her hand drifted toward her side.
She had tried to make the movement as subtle as possible, but unfortunately, she was no longer wearing her military jacket to conceal her hand.
Curtis immediately recognized the instinct behind the gesture. Her hand was brushing against her left hip—the exact spot where any Guard officer on duty would carry their holster.
But she was not on duty. There was no pistol, only the soft fabric of her nightgown.
Realizing this herself, she quickly smoothed down her skirts to cover her blunder and retorted, "Should I consider myself honored?"
The tips of her ears were slightly flushed. Was that the panic of a woman sensing a threat to her virtue, or merely the discomfort of a soldier realizing she was unarmed?
The petty irritation he had been harboring toward her began to dissolve. It was a childish irritation, akin to the resentment one feels when they eagerly look forward to what they think is a date, only to realize the other person viewed it as a casual meal.
This afternoon, he had kissed her.
It wasn't that he had never imagined taking a wife and kissing her. But Chloe Amboise had never once crossed his mind as a candidate. Curtis was also a man who had never harbored even a shred of the casual, shallow lust that men often felt toward pretty women.
Yet, she had consumed his thoughts all afternoon.
The kiss had been intentional. His fastidiousness was no secret. For Curtis Shan Berk to kiss someone in public was a necessary performance to sell the lie. That was why he had prepared the Sacred Flame in advance.
Prepared?
Well, could he really call it preparation?
Originally, what he had intended to give Chloe was not a ring, but a necklace. It was meant to be her compensation.
He didn't mean to suggest, in some trashy way, that a kiss could simply be bought with material wealth. What Chloe Amboise had sold to Curtis Shan Berk was her reputation and her time, not her dignity. Objectifying oneself is entirely different from commodifying one's time and reputation. Curtis understood that boundary perfectly, and Chloe understood just as clearly that Curtis did not desire her. That mutual understanding was the very foundation of their contract.
However, when it came to the kiss, he could not respect her boundaries. A pledge kiss between bride and groom was a universal expectation. Curtis figured that if he had explained this to her beforehand, Chloe would have accepted it as a matter of course. After all, no one understood his position better than she did.
Yet, while preparing for the wedding, he had realized a startling truth: Chloe Amboise had not given a single thought to the possibility of physical contact.
Of course, he understood why. With only a week to prepare for the wedding, she had been driven like a racehorse under a whip. This was no love match; she was executing a demanding contract for which she was being paid, and she had been utterly overwhelmed with work.
On top of that, the man driving her had said things like, "Keep your hair tied back," and "Don't even think about sleeping in my bed."
So, he had hesitated. Lieutenant, you do realize we have to perform a pledge kiss at the altar, right?
The virtue of a contract lies in honesty and mutual trust. Curtis imagined himself saying, "Lieutenant, we have to kiss at the wedding. The expected frequency is once. I'm the one suffering the greater psychological damage here, so don't look at me like that. It should take about three seconds."
It would have been incredibly pathetic.
In the end, he had proceeded with the ceremony without warning her. And to ease the guilt of his silence, he had given her the ring instead of the necklace.
It had been an incredibly impulsive act. No sane man would hand over a national treasure in exchange for a single kiss, no matter how wealthy Curtis Shan Berk was. As he had said, the item possessed immense symbolic value.
To call that preparation would be a deception.
Of course, the meaning the ring held for Curtis was far from romantic, contrary to what others believed. It was closer to something grotesque. Yet, even taking that into account, his impulsiveness was baffling. No matter how dreadful the object, Curtis Shan Berk had always prioritized his own interests over personal feelings. Naturally, he was forced to ponder his own sudden whim.
Why had he done it? Was it because the look of sheer horror on her face when she realized they had to kiss in front of the high priest was so amusing?
But the kiss didn't need to be that deep, did it?
Ultimately, what had plagued Curtis all afternoon was not the fact that he had given her a ring instead of a necklace. It was the question of why he had kissed her so deeply. Given his natural aversion to touching another person's bare skin, the entire experience felt utterly foreign.
At the same time, he felt a prickle of irritation. Unlike him, whose nerves had been stretched taut all day by this unresolved question, she seemed completely unaffected by the sudden kiss.
Though, seeing her reach for her gun, perhaps she isn't entirely unfazed.
Curtis offered her a glass of wine and whispered playfully,
"Aren't you pleased to find that your husband is not the type of man who believes pre-marital chastity is a virtue exclusive to women?"
He only wanted to tease her a little. But his former aide was not an easy target.
Regaining her composure in an instant, she shot back, "Why should I care? My esteemed husband will undoubtedly preserve his chastity post-marriage as well."
For someone who had supposedly never dated a man, Chloe's expression was shamelessly blank. It was almost infuriating.
Perhaps that was why. Curtis Shan Berk, who usually detested such jokes, found himself throwing out one more line.
"...Are you sure about that?"
As he spoke, he caught the thin strap of Chloe's nightgown with the tip of his finger, lifted it slightly, and let it slip back down.