The two of them were so absorbed in their conversation they didn’t hear the footsteps on the gangway.

"Seriously, I’m not mishearing things," Adelaide insisted. "That’s exactly what she said!"

"So what’s the problem?" Kaisen countered. "Big brother rushed into getting hitched, so he clearly must have been the one chasing her. You’re such a drama queen, sis."

"You’re missing the point! It’s not about who chased who. The point is that she didn’t even realize he was pursuing her, and then out of nowhere, he demands they get married! They had zero feelings for each other before the papers were signed! That’s just too—"

"That’s badass!" Kaisen high-fived the hand Adelaide had left hanging in the air. "I knew our brother was built different. Even his approach to chasing women is savage!"

Adelaide shook her head. "Forget it. I’m casting pearls before swine."

"Are you insulting me, sis?"

"No, I’m insulting the swine."

As she turned around, she froze. "B-b-big brother?!"

"Drop the 'big,'" Roman said, casting her a nonchalant, icy glance. "And for the record, keep your mouth shut."

"It’s… it’s all in the family, right? Sharing a bit of gossip isn't really—"

Kaisen leaned in, eyes wide with curiosity. "Big brother, are you really that intense when you pursue someone?"

Roman didn't dignify the question with an answer. He just said, "Don't go running your mouth to others."

"I swear I won't!" Kaisen raised a hand. "I wouldn’t even dare tell Mom and Dad."

Roman shifted his gaze to Adelaide. She straightened up immediately. "Big brother, I won't breathe a word!"

There is nothing more awkward than getting caught gossiping, and Adelaide’s vow of silence was suddenly backed by a mountain of sincerity. However, the way she looked at Roman changed. Who knew he was actually hiding a deep-seated "marry first, love later" romantic streak?

Looking at Violette’s current state—wasn't she practically glowing with the intensity of a new flame? Well, it made sense. Other than being a bit moody, boring, and having an aura that could crush a room, Roman was top-tier in every other department. How could she not be in love? Since she’d promised not to spread the rumor, Adelaide was left to fill in the blanks with her own vivid imagination.

After they spent a while on the deck—during which Kaisen’s fishing line didn't pull a single catch—Roman stood up and headed back inside. He figured if Violette kept sleeping, it would ruin her rest for the night.

He pushed the door open, and she was, as expected, sound asleep. Sunlight sliced through the corner of the porthole, cutting the room into sharp patches of light and shadow. One of Violette’s calves was exposed, tangled in the thin duvet. In the soft light, the cat-eye polish on her toenails glinted.

He’d observed them closely that morning, when the soles of her feet had pressed against his shoulders. He’d steadied her, whispering, "They’re glowing."

Violette had told him it was called a "cat-eye" effect. She’d teased him, "Pretty, right?"

"Gorgeous," Roman had said, lifting her hips. "Just like you."

They’d had a very athletic morning.

He decided against waking her and instead moved to the empty side of the bed. He laid there for half an hour until Violette finally stretched her arms and sat up.

Freshly awake, her gaze was unfocused. The unfamiliar room and the gentle, rhythmic sway of the yacht kept her disoriented for a long minute. It was the evening tide, and the boat rocked gently on the waves like a cradle. No wonder she’d slept so deeply.

She stretched, then let herself collapse backward, landing precisely in Roman’s arms.

Violette did it on purpose. Feeling him sleeping beside her, she couldn't resist the urge to snuggle. He clearly wasn't in a deep sleep; his eyelids didn't even flutter, but his arm snaked around her waist with unerring precision. His breath hit the top of her head as he murmured, "Not sleeping anymore?"

Violette turned in his arms, face-to-face, sliding a leg between his. "My bones are aching from sleeping so much," she complained.

It was a clear invitation to be pampered. Roman opened his eyes, his gaze steady and warm. "Want to get some exercise?"

"What kind of exercise?"

The "ruthless massage machine" began to knead her sore muscles, starting from her neck down to her waist, his touch rhythmic and smooth, like grooming a cat. Once she stopped complaining, he murmured, "The soundproofing in here is average."

Violette, having long forgotten her previous boldness, looked up. "Huh?"

"The kind of exercise you want is fine, too," he said, his large hand moving upward to hover near her lips. His thumb brushed over her lip line with a heavy, suggestive pressure. "As long as you don't make a sound."

Naturally, nothing else happened. Being able to be even slightly brazen with him was already a miracle; doing anything more was out of the question for Violette. Besides, she knew the walls were thin—she could occasionally hear the piercing, cracking voice of a teenage boy drifting up from the deck below.

Kaisen was shouting, "Big brother’s been up there forever!"

"Mind your own business, kid!" Adelaide snapped back.

Violette elbowed Roman. "Get up."

"Ignore them."

"I can't. I have a reputation to maintain."

Violette pushed away from him and sat up, giving another long, lazy stretch. "I might have to go on a business trip for a few days this month."

Roman paused while adjusting his collar. "Want me to go with you?"

"Give me a break, it's a business trip, not a vacation. Who brings their spouse on a work trip?" Violette rolled her eyes dramatically. "I’m just giving you a heads-up. What are you thinking?"

Roman stood up to tidy his clothes, his tone tinged with a hint of grievance as he walked past her. "But I’ve wanted to bring you along on several of my business trips."

Violette: "..."

By the time she reached the deck, she was still replaying that comment in her head. What did he mean by wanting to bring her along? Was he that attached? And why the tone? He made it sound like she was some heartless villain. She missed him when she was at home, too, didn’t she? Didn't those extra video calls from her last few trips prove that?

She glanced sideways at the man behind the bar. Because Adelaide had insisted on a cocktail party on the yacht—without any bartenders or proper preparation—her stiff, traditionalist brother had been forced to play mixologist, decreeing one drink per person before they all had to get lost and go home. Kaisen, being a minor, was strictly barred and forced to sip on an ice-cold soda.

How could someone make shaking a cocktail shaker look so captivating? His movements were practiced and precise, his face a mask of elegant aloofness, yet he was magnetic. As his wrists moved, the glassware caught the light, casting sharp reflections that only served to make his features look more flawless.

Violette gave up on sneaking glances and just rested her chin in her hand, watching him intently.

Her phone pinged. She ignored it.

Adelaide happened to pass by and tapped her chin against Violette’s glowing screen. Violette picked it up, her brow furrowing.

On the screen was a large number '3'. A notification from an old app she’d forgotten to delete: *Only 4 hours left until your 3rd anniversary! Don't forget to celebrate with your significant other!*

*What on earth?* Oh, right. She’d forgotten to delete the anniversary reminders for her and Blake Pierce.

Violette glanced at it and swiped it away. She didn't think much of it, but Adelaide did.

Adelaide pinched herself, feeling a surge of nervous excitement. Everything made sense now! A three-year anniversary! They weren't a "marry-first, love-later" couple—they’d been dating for three years before they got hitched! And Roman’s courtship must have been just as boring and traditional as she’d imagined. Like a blind date, straight to the point, talking terms and marriage.

That explained why Violette had said she didn't know his intentions—because the man had moved so fast. Her brother was something else; he’d hidden it so deep. Getting the marriage license hadn't been a sudden impulse after all—it had been a long-term plan.

While Violette went to the restroom, Adelaide sidled up to Roman. "Big brother, I was wrong about you."

Roman handed her a low-alcohol cocktail. "Wrong about me? I’d be grateful if you just stopped putting your twisted little scenarios on me."

"No, no, I’m apologizing now! I saw it! The alert on her phone—three years, huh? You two really hid that well!"