Chapter 5
Raina POV
I sit on the edge of the bed, twiddling my thumbs, when Mirelle walks out of the shower, drying her hair with a towel slung around her neck. Her dark hair drips beads of water onto the floor, and her skin glows with the subtle sheen of steam.
I look outside the window. The stars are unusually bright tonight, scattered across the sky like powdered silver. I didn't expect to be sharing a room, let alone a bed. The sheer weight of everything—Alden Island, the baby, the contract, the attention—it feels like too much.
"I thought I would sleep in a guest room," I say, trying to keep my tone light.
Mirelle pauses, glancing at me with genuine confusion.
"Where else would you sleep if not with me?"
I bite the inside of my cheek.
"I thought you'd be uncomfortable."
She shrugs, walking to the vanity and grabbing a dryer.
"Well, we'll probably be sharing a bed for the rest of our lives. The sooner we start, the better."
The matter-of-factness in her voice is dizzying. The rest of our lives. It sounds so easy coming from her, like the weight of permanence is feather-light.
I nod, unsure if I'm agreeing or just acknowledging.
The silence between us isn't awkward, but it is unfamiliar. I can hear the soft hum of the dryer, the sound of the wind against the balcony doors, the faint crash of waves on the shore beyond the estate. This island is too peaceful for the storm building in my chest.
I check the time. 11:00 PM. The day has left me drained, and yet my mind refuses to rest.
I step into the en-suite bathroom. I hadn't brought anything with me—no toiletries, no clothes, no familiarity. But when I open the cabinet beneath the sink, I freeze. Inside are all my favorite brands: my shampoo, my conditioner, the moisturizer I use sparingly because it's too expensive.
My heart skips.
When did she arrange this?
I won't think too much of it. Maybe her assistant did it. Maybe the Aldens are just efficient like that. Maybe I'll let myself believe it was her.
--
I walk out of the bathroom in a thick robe, toweling my hair. Mirelle sits at the desk by the window, a sleek laptop open, her fingers typing something rapidly.
Without looking up, she speaks.
"You can check the wardrobe. I had them prepare some clothes. I don't know if the sizes are right, but if not, we'll get you something else tomorrow."
Her voice is casual, but there's an edge of something underneath. Nervousness? Concern? It's hard to tell with her.
I walk into the massive walk-in closet. One half is clearly hers—sharply tailored suits, combat gear, high-quality boots. The other half is… me.
Dresses in muted tones, silk shirts, blouses, trousers, even new undergarments—all neatly arranged and clearly new. Some still have tags. There's a nightdress in pale lavender and a sealed box containing fresh sleepwear essentials. I clutch it all tightly to my chest.
I don't know how to feel.
Back in the bedroom, I change quickly. The nightdress is soft, the fabric whisper-light against my skin. I pad over to the bed where she's still working.
"Do you prefer the left or right side?" I ask.
Mirelle glances at me, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "Goodnight, Raina."
Right. I'm overthinking.
I crawl into bed, letting the silk sheets cool my skin. My body is tense, my mind still racing. But the bed is too comfortable. The scent of the sheets is warm, woodsy, familiar.
I don't expect to fall asleep. But I do.
The moment my head hits the pillow, the world goes dark.
--
I wake up sometime in the middle of the night.
It's dark, and for a moment I don't know where I am. Then I hear her breathing beside me—steady, rhythmic, calm.
I roll over slightly. Mirelle's face is relaxed in sleep, the usual tension in her jaw gone. There's something so human about her in this moment. The stern, commanding aura she usually wears is stripped away.
My chest tightens.
Right now, in this bed, it feels like I'm standing at the edge of something I can't name.
I reach out, barely brushing my fingers against hers where they rest between us.
She stirs, but doesn't wake.
I pull my hand back.
Sleep doesn't come easy the second time around, but I try anyway.