His New Bride

Mira never thought she would be getting married. Not so soon. Not so quickly. Not so unexpected and unplanned and undigested. And definitely not to the most unexpected person—the man she least thought of.

Every girl dreams of their wedding day. Dressed in beautiful white wedding garments. Their groom in his best tuxedo. The best decorations. Family, friends, well-wishers invited. Merriment and joy.

Mira never expected hers to be so full of intentions. Not the good ones. The ones with interests that were not in her favor.

She had been living a good life. An endurable routine. Ever since she left the Zhao family for the school campus, she had found something close to peace. Then the phone call came. Return to the Zhao house immediately.

And now here she was. Standing in front of her full-length dressing mirror, staring at her reflection.

The dress was modest. An A-line skirt that brushed the floor. A high neckline—not the elegant type but the suffocating type, swallowing her small swan-like neck. The lace sleeves were shapeless, swallowing her arms. The dress could easily be mistaken for a potato sack that someone had bedazzled. The skirt had no waistline, just hanging straight down like a comic costume for a ghost character. The silk was very good, very expensive quality. But the design was the direct opposite. It made her look like a ridiculous joke.

And then there was her face. Unmistakably Mira's masterpiece.

The foundation was two shades lighter than her neck, making her look as pale as one could imagine. Bright red blush sat on both cheeks like each was fighting for attention. Unblended. Unapologetic. And her eyes—the main center of it all. The left eye painted in bold, seductive color. Sharp. Fierce. A black wing that could cut glass. In contrast to this alluring eye was the right eye: no wing. Just a sad, thick line drawn like it had given up halfway through. Together, they looked like two cousins who had never met. One was going to a business meeting. The other was going to a funeral. Her lashes were clumped into tiny black spikes. Her lips were colored blood red, the edges bleeding past her lip line. Smeared. Careless. And finally her hair. Braided in big clusters of twisted braids that had probably been in her hair for months. Like a traveler who had wandered the world with no direct destination.

She looked like an earthquake in full bloom. Like a crime scene in a movie gone wrong.

Clicking her tongue and winking at herself in the mirror, she admired her masterpiece. Uniquely Mira. Nothing less.

She thought to herself: *I think I look too beautiful to be overlooked as the bride. If they're going to force me into a marriage that I have nothing to benefit from, then why don't I make them happy a little?*

She still remembered that day. Before all this happened.

It was supposed to be a quiet, peaceful Saturday afternoon. Bright. Full of hope and fresh starts. She was still in her dorm, typing away the last line of her project, when the phone call from hell came in. The Marcus Zhao family. It was her uncle. The man with a smiling face that wrapped knives. He asked her to come back home for an urgent meeting.

"Okay," was all she said. The meek and gentle niece she had learned to be after twelve years of living with his family. Knowing fully well that whatever was awaiting her in that house was never anything good. Normal occurrence. Unprecedented, but normal.

Getting home, she was welcomed with the news of the unexpected marriage. They claimed it was arranged due to some occurrence during childhood and was accepted by both families. Something like that. Laura's cocky grin sat across the table like she knew Mira was being sold but was still helping to count the money.

Mira didn't object. Didn't argue. Just nodded and left for her room.

It was located at the end of the hall. Beside the laundry room. Behind the last door on the left. It was small. Too small for a Zhao. The housekeeper's room was bigger. Marcus's excuse back then was that the house was under maintenance. Something about a leakage in the roof. That was twelve years ago. She had adapted.

The twin bed was shoved against the wall. Faded sheets. Sagging mattress. A narrow window that could barely bring enough air in to diffuse the unknown stink.

She flopped on the bed and thought about her parents. The mystery behind their death. The only reason she was still here.

Then her phone rang.

It was her grandfather. He told her he had his reasons for the marriage arrangement. That Damon Cipher was the only person he could trust her with. He was aging now, and she needed someone to protect her. He hinted that he knew what she was going through in that house, even if she never told him. It was only a matter of time. He had his reasons for keeping quiet. She didn't need to feel alone. Elderly warmth. Gentle unconditional love. The kind she had not felt since her parents passed.

After the call, she felt light.

She looked at herself in the mirror for the second time. Grinning. Mischief and trouble dancing in her mismatched eyes. Nothing like the meek, gentle bride she was about to transform into.

A knock came from the door. It was a maid. Aunty Cara. She came to tell Mira that the car was here to pick her up. Seeing Mira's face and outfit, Aunty Cara wasn't perturbed. She knew this was Mira's signature style. With a bit of upgrade. She acted calm on the outside, but internally she was questioning her life choices and wondering how Mira—the once beautiful little kid—had become this disaster wrapped in rainbow. She didn't say anything. Just advised Mira to take care of herself. All pure affection and care. Not the fake type.

Mira nodded and mouthed thanks.

She went downstairs. There she saw the family of three sitting in the living room. And on the other sofa sat a man dressed in a navy blue suit. Combed hair. Clean. Sharp. She watched the way her uncle and his wife practically worshiped him and guessed that he was probably sent by her soon-to-be groom.

When Mira walked down the stairs, the noise from her heels tapping the floor attracted the attention of the four people in the living room. They turned to look at the source of the noise. And saw Mira's tragic outfit and horrific makeup.

Hayden—Damon's assistant, the man actually here to pick her up—was sitting with the three family members of shamelessness. When he saw Mira, he almost screamed. But thanks to his composure and all the training he had received from Damon, he didn't. He looked quietly and said nothing. Internally, he was screaming. Doubting all his life decisions. Wondering what the old man was thinking when arranging his grandson with this girl for marriage.

The remaining family of three? Their reaction was spontaneous. Laura was the first to gasp dramatically, barely holding in her laughter. Lisa took on the usual role of the caring aunt—a performance that could certainly earn her an Oscar. Marcus just stared. Looking like someone who had gotten used to it but didn't know what to do. The helpless uncle who had tried everything to help his niece. In the past, it would earn him sympathy.

Mira smirked internally. But externally, she smiled sweetly at her uncle and his family. It almost scared the life out of them. Thank goodness it was daytime.

Then Mira turned to look at the man sent to pick her up. She nodded at him, then walked toward the door without saying goodbye to the people in the living room.

Walking out of the house with Hayden behind her, Mira spotted a very black sedan parked outside. Low-key. Luxurious. Definitely waiting to pick her up. Hayden went forward to open the backseat door.

Mira slipped into the backseat with too much hurry and slammed straight into a hard wall. Or so she thought. This wall smelled of sandalwood. Mint. And a mix of medicinal herbs.

She looked up.

Her eyes traveled from his chest upward. His black shirt was snug against his body. The sleeves were rolled up. The collar was open. No tie. The hollow of his throat was visible, his Adam's apple moving up and down in slow rhythm. Looking very sexy yet poised. His skin was pale. Not sickly. Just untouched. Like no one had ever been close enough to touch or see it. His jaw was sharp. Like it had been sharpened by a sculptor. A bit of subtle stubble—the kind that made your hands itch to rub it. His lips were thin, juicy pink, pressed into a line with dissatisfaction clamoring there. His nose was straight and pointed. Aristocratic. The kind that looked down on people even when the other person was standing. Perfect bridge. High cheekbones.

And his eyes. Black obsidian. Like a bottomless pit. The kind that made you feel seen through without even trying. Dark and deep yet alluring and beautiful. They were looking at her now with annoyance advertising for attention, as Mira would say. They held eye contact. Damon looking like he could commit murder at any time. Mira knowing that look. It was a warning.

She decided to ignore it and do something more crazy.

She blinked at him with her two hands still straddling his lap—which was her supposed wall. Then, in the most sweet, sultry voice one could never think of coming from the lips of a person dressed in a sack-like white wedding dress and a color carnival disaster of a makeup, she said:

"Honey. You finally came. So you're my husband to be, right? Not bad."

She said this while checking out his face. Blinking like someone who knew nothing about the kind of look Damon was giving her. She held his cheeks with her two little hands and nodded, muttering to herself that his looks were not bad. Quite manageable. Congratulations to her. Damon heard it all. Everything.

In the driver's seat, Hayden felt like the ground could open and swallow him up. *Oh my gosh. What did I just hear? That voice. The honey sounded too sweet to be true. This girl must be seeking death. Not only did she slam her makeup-stricken face into boss, but she touched him. Touched him. And said his face—his face that could get all the women in Veridian City scrambling to see even without him smiling—she said his face was quite manageable. Oh my gosh. Big boss has really gotten himself into this. Definitely no turning back.*

Hayden tried to act as invisible as possible. Because he didn't know what his never-rational boss would do to him.

Mira was just getting started. She continued staring at Damon and muttering to God knows who. Then she tapped his nose twice. Winked at him. And asked in that same sweet voice:

"Honeyyyy, can you stop giving me that look? We're going to get married soon, and here you are looking like the world owes you millions."

Hayden choked in the front seat. He really wanted to burst out laughing. But Damon's eyes from the rearview mirror left him no choice but to cough. He really couldn't take it anymore. *Aghhhhh! Finally, someone who isn't scared of six feet. The last person that ever spoke to boss—not even as bad as this—is lying six feet under now. And here... aghhhhh! I'm in for more drama.*

Mira continued, now adjusting herself to kneel properly, using both hands to press Damon's thighs to steady herself. Damon shot her a look. She ignored it.

Then he spoke. The first words since she got into the car.

"Get your hands and yourself off me. Now."

Mira blinked. Then pouted dramatically.

"Why are you shouting? You're scaring me. Don't you know how to talk to a beauty? Not just any beauty—an adorably cute, beautiful lady like me?"

Hayden burst into laughter, holding his stomach. "Oh no, this is too much for only me to bear."

It earned him another sharp look from Damon. It took him forever to get back the composure that Mira had somehow helped him throw under the car since they stepped in.

Then Damon's voice was heard. Low. Sexy. But full of warning, killing intent, and mockery.

"You probably have never looked well in a mirror. Or you don't know the meaning of the words you just mentioned to actually associate yourself with any of it."

Mira frowned and held her chest dramatically like someone who had been shot in the heart.

"Who's not associated? You are the one who's not literate enough to understand those words. Okay, you've probably never met a beauty in your life, that's why you can't tell. I won't argue with you too much. Just know that you are very lucky to have this beauty as your bride without any effort. Hmph."

Hayden burst out laughing again. This time, Damon did not stop him. Because even he was exasperated. He was left speechless by Mira's statement. He was forced to look at her again. Holding back a smirk, he said:

"Clown."

Mira heard and was about to reply before he cut her off.

"Not another word from you, or I won't think twice before throwing you back to that house. Now stay away from me."

Mira snorted and climbed off his body to sit on the other side of the car, rubbing her nose and muttering something about him not being able to send her back because he would have done that already, and his legs being too hard—they almost broke her poor, innocent nose.

Damon just looked at her. Then looked down at the large patch of his pants stained with her thick makeup. Annoyance written all over his face. He calmed himself down, convincing himself that he was probably in a good mood today, and that's why she was still breathing.

Then he looked at the rearview mirror.

"To the Lakeside Villa."

Hayden hesitated, wanting to say something, but seeing the annoyance on his boss's face, he held his horses. As if Damon knew what he was trying to say, he replied: "The official from the court should come home directly to complete the paperwork and registration."

"Yes, sir," said Hayden, now starting the car with a mind full of many questions.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

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