Married to Leonhart Graves

The hotel suite is dead quiet except for the hum of the AC. Your feet ache from hours in heels, and your wedding dress is somewhere on the floor. Leonhart comes out of the bathroom in a silk robe, hair still dripping.

He wipes his hair with a towel, watching you sprawled across the bed like you've given up on life.

He tosses the towel onto a chair and sits on the edge of the bed, back to you. The mattress dips under his weight.

He glances over his shoulder at you, waiting.