It takes Jasmine a moment to realize what he means. He's giving me permission.
What she meant is for him to take it off himself.
"Okay" she utters.
Her fingers reach for the waistband of his trousers, her heart racing. She holds her breath as she carefully pulls the zipper down.
Julian stays still, letting her work, but his chest rises and falls a bit faster now.
She tries not to look, but the moment her eyes drift down, heat floods her cheeks and she let go immediately.
"I'll get some more oil," she mumbles, her hands terrified to continue and she stands to her feet.
Before she can escape, Julian's hand shoots out and catches her wrist. He opens his eyes, a rare spark of mischief dancing in them. A smirk curves his lips.
"The oil is right here," he says, voice teasing.
Jasmine turns her head quickly, looking anywhere but at him. Her cheeks are blazing.
"You were bold enough to kiss me at the wedding. Why so shy now?"
Jasmine's eyes turn wide. She can't believe he is finding faults with just a brush of her lips on his.
"I… I had to then. The priest—" she starts, but stops when she sees the grin he's wearing.
She rarely sees him smile.
Most of the time, he wears a cold, unreadable expression. His mood gets better after the massage but that's only enough not to scare her.
But now—he's amused. Relaxed. Maybe even enjoying her flustered state.
And Jasmine can't help but raise the corner of her lips in a smile.
They both become aware of the lingering gaze in their eyes and Jasmine breaks the stare.
She turns her face, moving quickly, forgetting Julian's hold on her, and pulls him together with her but he pulls back with more force and Jasmine fall right into his laps.
Jasmine gasps, stunned. Her hands land on his chest for balance, and her breath hitches. Julian's arms wrap around her waist, holding her firmly against him.
He did it on purpose.
She glares at him, trying to mask the chaos in her chest and show him her disapproval.
"Let go," she murmurs, her voice soft but firm.
Even if he can't use his legs, he is still much stronger than her.
Julian doesn't. He stares at her lips. He's tried to ignore this pull, this growing hunger, but now—he doesn't want to.
He leans in and captures her lips with his. Fully.
He waits for a second, wanting to get the same feeling from earlier but his patience run out.
He forces her mouth opened, urgently, her tongue hot against his.
He waits for her to push him away—but she doesn't. Her lips move in sync with his, yielding to the pressure, answering his silent question with unspoken desire.
Jasmine's mind blanks. she feels like something inside her has been set free--a beast. One whose desires can't be tamed and her body melts in his arms.
He kisses her like he's memorizing her. And she lets him.
Jasmine finds it hard to believe he had no woman by his side for three years. His move, his touch--they make her body tremble in submission.
Then—
"Sir, the food is—"
The door creaks open and slams shut just as fast. Sam's voice fades with the awkwardness she clearly didn't expect to walk into.
Julian and Jasmine pull apart, eyes wide, lips swollen, breathing heavy.
The interruption seems to bring them back to their senses before they indulge further in something they might regret.
Silence stretches between them.
"I… I'll go serve the food," Jasmine blurts, flustered, and flees the room before either of them can say anything more.
Julian leans back in the chair, still feeling the taste of her on his lips.
He doesn't smile this time.
He just sits there, silently wondering
---
Jasmine does everything she can to keep dinner from being awkward, but Julian seems completely unaffected, calmly focused on his meal like nothing happened between them minutes ago.
She keeps stealing glances at him, her mind swirling with the sensation of his breath mixing with hers, the way his lips molded perfectly to hers.
She's imagined him in her head before, more times than she cares to admit, but now that something real has happened between them… she's unsure how to act.
"You don't seem hungry," Julian says, not looking up from his plate.
His voice snaps her out of the daze, and her eyes drift to his lips. The same lips that were just on hers.
Her heart skips.
"Jasmine," he says again, more clearly this time.
"I'm here," she responds quickly, sitting up straighter.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks with a hint of amusement, as if fully aware of the answer.
She stares down at her plate, her cheeks warming.
"Nothing. Just tired."
He doesn't press further, but something is different.
He called her by her name again.
That's twice now—something he never used to do.
At the beginning when she worked for him, he always referred to her as 'hey' or nothing at all. Which Jasmine find offense.
He called her name the first time he talked to her about the 'fake marriage' but now…
Although it means nothing, Jasmine's heart flutters.
"We're going to my grandparents' house tomorrow," Julian says casually, as if dropping a pebble in a still lake.
Whatever flutter she felt at hearing him say her name fades immediately.
Of course. There had to be a reason behind his sudden sweetness.
"Tomorrow?" she echoes, meeting his gaze.
Jasmine didn't expect to be facing his extended family so soon.
The idea of lying again, of faking smiles and pretending they're a real couple—it exhausts her.
"It's just a formality. A few relatives will be there to send their well-wishes… and red packets."
Jasmine nods slowly. Knowing it's tradition to do that.
"Yes, sir."
Julian pauses, his chopsticks stilling. The word sir ringing in his ear.
"Now that we're married, you should stop calling me 'sir.' Call me by my name. I'll call you Jasmine," he says, voice calm but firm.
Her heart stutters, and she swallows a mouthful of rice too quickly.
She coughs, almost choking.
Call him by his name?
Impossible. It's bad enough he keeps calling her Jasmine—each time it makes her chest flutter like a teenager with a crush.
But calling him by his name? That might send her spiraling.
"I… I shouldn't call you that," she says, trying to keep her tone neutral.
"Why not? We're married," he replies easily, like it's the most natural thing in the world.
She looks away. He should really stop saying things like that so casually…
She can't even wrap her head around the whole situation and yet, he doesn't feel embarrassed to say such words to her.
"It's a paid marriage. You're still my boss," she reminds him gently.
Julian's expression shifts. The cold glint in his eyes returns as he pushes his plate away.
"And I get to tell you what to do. Call me 'sir' tomorrow and you'll wish you weren't born," he says flatly.
Jasmine flinches. That cold, commanding tone. She hates how it still gets to her.
"Take care of the dishes," he adds before turning his wheelchair and rolling himself out of the dining room.
She sits frozen, her appetite for the meal completely gone.
Why did I let myself get carried away again?
Eventually, she rises and clears the table. Sam helps her wash the plates quietly, and when they're done, she offers a gentle goodbye and leaves.
Jasmine walks back to her room and closes the door softly behind her. For a second, she thinks about checking on Julian, but decides against it.
Whatever happened earlier—it was probably just hormones. A moment of weakness. That's all.
She lies in bed, staring at the ceiling.
No sleep comes.
Minutes pass before she drags herself to the bathroom, letting the water wash the stress from her skin.
When she returns, wrapped in a towel, she sits at her small desk and opens her journal.
"Day one of marriage."
She writes the words in her neat cursive and marks the first calendar date. Just 364 days to go.
Next, she opens her checkbook.
$1000.
It should be more, but her father had once stolen everything in it—every cent she saved, even the money meant for her college courses.
This time, when she leaves Julian's side, she's taking control of her life.
She closes the book with a sigh.