The Strange Groom's Cursed Bride-Chapter 63: "...the more I do"

Milo looked utterly drained, as if the very act of existing had become a profound burden. He checked the intercom, muttering under his breath, "Another one?"

They hadn’t had this many unexpected visitors since last night, and he attributed it all to a certain pillowcase-clad someone.

"It’s Caroline Cresswell," Milo announced, his voice tinged with a fresh layer of exasperation that was almost comical.

Caroline? Alice’s stomach plummeted. Hardy’s sister? A jolt of apprehension went through her.

What was she doing here? Did Hardy tell her something? No, that didn’t feel right. Hardy wouldn’t. She didn’t think so.

So why was she—

Alice’s gaze snapped to Hades, seeking an answer in his unreadable expression. At the same time, she noticed a brief, almost imperceptible flicker of understanding pass between Hades and Milo. Milo, with a resigned sigh that spoke volumes about his fate, went ahead and opened the door without giving Alice the chance to flee.

What was that look? Why were they letting her in? Why was she here? Did she usually come here? The memory of last night, of Caroline openly eyeing Hades like she wanted to strip him bare, resurfaced. The thought made Alice’s jaw clench under the pillowcase, a hot, unfamiliar emotion tightening in her chest.

Alice glared at Hades, a silent accusation in her eyes, a complex mix of irritation and something unsettlingly close to territorialism brewing inside her.

Caroline stepped gracefully into the room, a vision of polished perfection. Her glossy curls bounced with each step, her heels clicked against the marble like precise punctuation marks. She held a wrapped canvas—a painting, Alice guessed, remembering what she’d read about Caroline being an artist and managing a gallery. Caroline exuded an air of effortless sophistication, a stark contrast to Alice’s current mummy-like state.

"I hope I’m not interrupting," Caroline said sweetly, her voice like spun sugar. Yet, her eyes betrayed a flicker of calculated curiosity as they fell on Alice, still wrapped in her makeshift disguise.

Caroline blinked. Once. Then again. Her gaze, sharp and assessing, seemed to peel away the pillowcase, trying to discern the identity of the bizarre figure before her. "...Oh." Caroline tilted her head, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her lips as recognition dawned. "I thought you didn’t live here?" Her tone was light, almost airy, but laced with a clear, audacious challenge that made Alice’s blood run cold.

Alice could not believe her audacity. "So what if I didn’t live here? Why are you here?" Her voice came out in a ruder tone than she had expected, her carefully constructed defenses cracking under the unexpected assault.

"You are still wearing yesterday’s dress," Caroline commented, her gaze sweeping over Alice’s emerald gown, a subtle curl of her lip. Then, she casually turned her attention toward Hades, dismissing Alice as if she were a minor inconvenience.

"I just came to drop off a gift," Caroline said, lifting the wrapped canvas with theatrical flair, her smile not faltering in the face of Alice’s outburst. "I thought it might suit Hades’s aesthetic. Complex. Brooding. Brutally minimalist." She aimed a coy look at Hades, as if sharing a private joke, a silent invitation in her eyes that made Alice’s stomach churn.

Now, what the actual hell? Alice looked between the two of them, the raw, illogical urge to rip the pillowcase off and scream at both of them bubbling up. What the hell were they doing, flirting right in front of her face?

Was this normal in the West? Openly flirting with a married man?

Hades didn’t even blink, his expression as unyielding as ever. "I don’t hang things I don’t understand." His voice was flat, a direct dismissal that cut through Caroline’s performative sweetness like a cold steel blade.

Caroline faltered for a fraction of a second, her perfect composure almost cracking. Then she laughed—lightly, elegantly, as if Hades’s rudeness was merely a charming eccentricity she found utterly captivating. "Of course. Well, maybe you’ll come to understand it."

He tilted his head towards the door, a clear, unspoken command for her to leave, his impatience as clear as daylight.

Alice was secretly pleased, a small, triumphant flicker in her heart that she quickly suppressed.

But Caroline, with a shameless disregard for the implied dismissal, went to Milo, practically dumping the painting on him.

"It’s a gift. Do with it what you want. See you around." Her gaze lingered on Hades for a final, lingering moment before she turned and glided out, her heels clicking a defiant rhythm against the marble. She didn’t look at Alice at all. Just... nothing. As if Alice was as invisible as the air itself.

Alice could not believe her audacity.

Hades turned slightly, clearly intending to walk off—perhaps to finish his drink or continue watching her sneak around on security footage like a blanket-wrapped raccoon.

But Alice—half a mess, half a mystery—couldn’t let it go. The simmering indignation, mixed with that inexplicable heat of jealousy, burst forth.

"Why are you making me move in," she blurted, her voice sharp, "when you’re clearly having fun receiving gifts from other women?"

Her voice was sharp, but beneath it trembled something embarrassingly tender, a raw vulnerability she couldn’t control. Even she wasn’t sure what she was accusing him of. But it had leapt from her mouth like it had been waiting in the wings all morning.

Hades halted mid-step.

He turned slowly, one brow raised in silent amusement, the corner of his lips twitching just faintly. "Fun?" His tone was laced with a chilling disbelief.

Alice swallowed, not liking the look in his eyes—like a shark that smelled blood but wasn’t quite hungry yet, merely assessing its prey.

"If that’s jealousy I smell in your tone, I’ll kill you." He said in a dark, even tone, taking a step toward her. His gaze was unwavering, piercing.

Milo, still cradling the painting like a fragile newborn, looked around wildly, as if searching for a magical portal to another dimension. Finding none, he simply bolted, the sound of his retreating footsteps echoing down the hall.

"I’m... n-not jealous!" Alice stammered, her voice high and defensive, the words tumbling out in a rush. The heat in her cheeks intensified, a betraying blush that crept all the way to her hairline.

She appreciated the covers.

He regarded her coolly, his expression unreadable once more. "What were you and Hardy Cresswell discussing at the party last night?"

Pause.

Her heartbeat became erratic.

Had he heard something and was testing her?

"It... was professional," she insisted. "He was my classmate, so it’s only normal we... spoke. And I had only stepped out for air since I was... ill and we met by coincidence so—"

The intercom rang. A cheerful, disembodied voice from Rowan announced, "Brunch is ready."

Hades just looked at her before he turned, heading upstairs, leaving her clueless as to what to do next. The abrupt dismissal stung.

"I just—" She exhaled, frustrated, running a hand through her hair, the pillowcase momentarily sliding further down her forehead. "I just don’t like you, okay?!"

A pause stretched between them, thick and heavy.

He stopped, mid-staircase, and slowly turned around to look at her. His eyes, dark and piercing, held hers.

"I don’t want to live here. I don’t owe you anything. I thought we were going to keep ignoring each other and be strangers." Her voice, though muffled, carried a raw vulnerability, a desperate plea for a return to normalcy.

Hades looked at her like she’d said the most naive thing in the world, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his lips. He stepped forward slowly, descending the stairs, the smirk fading—but something darker, far more dangerous, lighting behind his eyes.

"The more you don’t want it..." he said softly, his voice a low, chilling purr as he closed the distance between them, "...the more I do."

Alice instinctively took a step back, her bare foot catching on the edge of the rug. She stumbled, a gasp escaping her, her body tipping precariously. Just as she braced for impact, knowing quite well Hades would NEVER save her, a strong hand shot out, catching her wrist, pulling her upright with surprising force.

But instead of letting her fall into him, Hades used the momentum to shove her gently but firmly against the nearest wall. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

His other hand went up, flat against the wall just behind her head, caging her, preventing her head from hitting the hard surface.

Badummm

The foyer fell silent once more, leaving Alice and Hades alone in the sudden, charged quiet. Her face wrap had dropped when he pushed her against the wall, revealing her freckles, now standing out sharply against her flushed, crimson face. His face was inches from hers, his dark eyes burning.

She blinked at him, her eyes wide and slightly disoriented, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Hades, as if only just realizing the precarious intimacy of their position, abruptly removed the hand cushioning her head. He stepped away, the sudden distance almost as jarring as his closeness had been, leaving her leaning against the wall, utterly disarmed and breathless.

This time, when he turned around, he didn’t look back.

He hated women.

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