Steve's P.O.V.
As Grace storms off to the bathroom, I'm left alone with my thoughts and the memories of the previous night.
I feel frustrated as I think about how hard it was to clean her up and help her change, all the while trying to resist the undeniable attraction I feel toward her.
I can't deny that Grace is an incredibly alluring woman. Her words and actions, even in a drunken state, made it difficult for me to maintain my composure. Yet, I controlled myself.
***
She is about to leave the room, but stops as I call her, "Grace." She turns to face me, and I continue, "Please, don't get drunk today. I can't go through that again."
Annoyed by my remarks, she retorts, "Don't sleep with men. Don't do this, don't do that. Just stop fucking telling me what I should or shouldn't do, Mr. Steve."
I respond in a firm tone, pointing my finger at her. "This situation is an outcome of your choices, Grace. Remember that the contract marriage was your idea, so you should be prepared to accept the consequences."
She rolls her eyes, irked. "I can't argue with you more. I'm leaving." She marches out of the room, slamming the door.
This woman is truly getting on my nerves.
I decide to spend my time in the hotel room only.
***
As I work on my laptop, sitting on the sofa, I receive a call from my father.
"Steve, are you on honeymoon?" My brows frown, listening to my father's unnecessary question.
"Yes, Dad." I reply, slightly irritated.
"Then why is your wife exploring Paris alone?" He asks, his voice laced with disappointment.
I respond, growing more frustrated, "Dad, please stop spying on us. I had to attend a meeting; that's why she went out alone."
My father, unaware of the complexities between Grace and me, advice, "Son, you're on your honeymoon. You can attend to work matters after returning home. Spend quality time with Grace."
I reluctantly agree, realizing it's futile to argue with him. "Alright, I understand. I'll spend time with her."
"Take care, son." He disconnects the call.
I close the laptop and take a deep breath before calling Grace.
My father's words about spending time with Grace echo in my mind. I've never been good at faking relationships, and this forced honeymoon is testing my patience. But I know I have to follow my father's orders.
"Hello, Steve. I'm having a great time, and I don't want to ruin my mood by talking to you. So, bye," Grace abruptly hangs up the call, causing me to frown.
This woman! I'm only tolerating her because of my father.
As I call her again, she answers with annoyance, "What do you want, Mr. Grey? Why are you calling me repeatedly?"
I compose myself by sighing because I don't want to waste more energy on arguing with her. "Grace, Dad just called me, and he wants us to spend time together. So tell me, where are you?"
Her voice on the other end drips with irritation. "And why should I tell you?"
I try to keep my patience and reply, "I understand, Grace, but for the sake of Dad, can you please let me know your whereabouts? We need no more drama."
After a few seconds of silence, she reluctantly gives in. "Fine, I'm at the Eiffel Tower. Happy now?"
"Alright, I'm coming. Stay there." I say, trying to sound as composed as possible.
"I don't need a babysitter." Grace retorts before hanging up.
Engaging in a conversation with Grace without getting into a fight is impossible.
I grab my coat and head out of the hotel, making my way to the Eiffel Tower where she's waiting.
***
As I watch Grace playing with the children at the Eiffel Tower, I get lost in the moment, forgetting everything. Her laughter and the way she interacts with them, it is endearing. I'm captivated by her smile.
Why am I so drawn to her? It's a question I've been avoiding, but as I watch her, it's becoming harder to deny. Beneath our contract, the arguments, and the games we play, there's something about Grace that has a powerful hold on me.
Lost in my thoughts, I approach her, who hasn't noticed my presence yet. She's still engrossed in playing with the children. The woman I'm witnessing right now differs from the one I've been entangled with.
When she finally notices me, her smile vanishes.
Why doesn't she smile at me?
"Are you here to ruin my amazing mood, Mr Grey?" She asks with a frown, approaching me.
"And what about you? You've spoiled my life since you arrived." I retort, rolling my eyes.
She crosses her arms and sighs. "I don't have the mood to fight with you, okay?"
I decide to be polite this time as I explain to her. "Listen, my father's man is spying on us. So we need to pretend to be a happy couple."
She nods in response, and I'm relieved that she doesn't throw a tantrum this time.
"So, as a 'happy couple,' let's take selfies." She suggests, retrieving her phone from her sling bag.
As she takes selfies, I also strike poses because I have no other choice.
Her eyes glint with excitement as she posts our photos on Instagram with the caption, "Exploring Paris with my loving husband."
"Loving husband! How fake she is?" I mumble under my breath, shaking my head.
Grace notices my reaction and smirks at me. "What's wrong, Mr. Grey? Can't handle a little social media attention?"
I retort, "I prefer living in the real world, unlike you."
She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed by my comment. "Oh, please! Everyone loves a good Instagram moment. It's not my fault if you're stuck in the Stone Age."
I scoff, "Stone Age or not, I'd rather be authentic than create a fake persona for likes."
Grace smirks again, enjoying our banter. "Well, Mr. Authentic, get used to it. We're in the 21st century, and social media is part of our life."
I decide not to engage further in this pointless argument. Instead, I mutter, "Enjoy your virtual world, Grace. I'll stick to reality."
"Anyway, Steve, you always say no one can control you, but your father can, right? That's why you're taking selfies with me." She teases me, chuckling.
I taunt her, "Because I respect him, Grace. But it seems the 'respect' word isn't in your dictionary."
"You're always ready to fight with me. Steve, you're my husband, so just take some pictures of your wife." She orders, handing me her phone.
I retort, "I'm not your personal photographer, madam."
Seriously, she thinks I'll take her pictures. I won't follow her orders, not even in her dreams.
Unwilling to back down, she threatens, "I'll call your father and tell him you're not taking pictures with your wife. You're such a terrible husband."
This girl is a drama queen, and I've had enough.
Annoyed, I snatch the phone and pretend to take her pictures, but I secretly take my selfies. She doesn't even realize that I'm capturing myself.
After approaching me, she pulls my cheeks and remarks with a smile, "You're the sweetest husband."
I laugh at her in my mind.
Her smile vanishes when she checks her phone and comes to know I was taking my selfies.
"You were taking your selfies!" She yells, showing me my photos on her phone.
"You thought I would click your photos!" I let out a chuckle.
"Now you'll see what I'm capable of." After saying this, she dials my father's number on her phone.
I snatch her phone and toss it into the nearby fountain, irked.
"What the fuck!" She yells, shocked by my actions.
She grabs my collar and asks, "How dare you threw my phone in the water?"
"With my hands." I respond, showing her my hands with a smirk.
Enraged by my actions, she hurls me into the water, leaving me shocked.
Is she out of her mind?
"You're an insane woman. How dare you push me?" I shout, running my wet hand through my hair in anger.
She bends down toward me with her hands on her hips and responds to me with an attitude, "You deserved it, Mr Grey."
I won't let her get away with this. I grab her wrist and pull her into the water, causing her to gasp in shock.
"You!" She shrieks and hits my chest after emerging from the water.
She pushes her wet hair out of her face and looks at me.
A crowd has gathered around us, and they watch our fight. Thanks to her, we've become a spectacle to the world.
She continues to hit me, and I've had enough. I seize both of her hands and push them behind her back. I yank her closer, giving her a piercing look, and she meets my gaze with the same fire in her eyes. Despite the chaos, there's an undeniable intensity between us.
Suddenly, a security guard approaches us, displeased by our disturbance.
"Excuse me, sir and madam, you need to leave. This behaviour is not acceptable here."
Reluctantly, we release each other, and I shoot Grace a stern look. "This is your doing." I mutter under my breath, but she just rolls her eyes in response.
We walk away from there, dripping wet and thoroughly irritated.
As we settle inside the car, she shoots me an irritated look. "This is exactly why I didn't want to spend time with you."
Ignoring her comment, I try to explain her. "Look, we need to at least pretend to get along. My father is keeping a tab on us, and we can't afford more drama."
She scoffs, "Your father should mind his own business, and so should you."
I shake my head, realizing that convincing her won't be easy. "Let's just finish this day peacefully, and then we can go back to avoiding each other."
She gives me a sceptical glance, but nods in agreement.
Then we continue our day in Paris, trying to maintain a facade of a happy couple for the sake of my father.