The Strange Groom's Cursed Bride-Chapter 46: Get in

Alice’s eyes scanned the entrance, half-expecting Hades to have disappeared—but hoping he hadn’t.

He was there.

Leaning against the side of a sleek black car like it belonged in a villain’s magazine spread. A single dim streetlamp glowed above, casting angular shadows across his sharp features. One hand in his pocket. The other holding a lit cigar to his lips.

Alice slowed.

Of course.

His eyes met hers as he puffed smoke slowly, lazily.

He didn’t look surprised to see her—more like he’d been expecting her.

Was he waiting for something else? Because Hades waiting for her? That would be crazy.

The smug bastard.

She wrinkled her nose at the smell of the cigar and kept a strategic two-meter radius. Maybe three. The smoke curled into the air like it had nowhere better to be.

Just like her, apparently.

He eyed her calmly, flicking ash with elegant disinterest.

"Are you going to the Cresswells’ dinner tomorrow?" she asked, trying to sound casual. Detached. Curious but not too curious.

She hoped he wouldn’t go. He didn’t seem like the type to attend unnecessary social theatre.

He exhaled smoke, not even sparing her a glance. "Do I have a reason not to?"

Her mouth opened, then closed.

Hesitation. That was always her cue to lose ground.

"I just thought..." she trailed off. Then shook her head. "Never mind."

A beat of silence passed.

Did that mean he was going? What would happen then? What was Hardy planning?

"You live in your head," he commented suddenly.

She snapped back to reality and looked at him, startled.

He turned, casually pulling the car door open. She followed quickly, stepping beside him.

"What about the ten million?" she asked, breath catching in her throat.

His head tilted, just slightly. "What about it?"

"Why... did you agree to pay it?"

He didn’t answer immediately.

He took another puff. The smoke drifted between them. Then he looked at her—really looked at her—with that unnervingly calm amusement. Like she was a puzzle he’d already solved twice and was now just toying with.

"Do you trust yourself to cut it down?" he asked.

She blinked. "What?"

"The fine," he said. "Do you trust yourself to negotiate it down?"

She hated how long she paused.

But she also knew herself.

She didn’t have a cheat sheet for that situation. But... being born and raised in the North meant bargaining was a reflex, a daily sport. Maybe she could have?

Her silence betrayed her.

"Your hesitation answers for itself," he said smoothly.

The bastard.

Alice sighed. "It’s just... it’s too much money."

She looked at him, uneasy now. "I’m sorry."

He flicked ash again. "Why are you apologizing?"

Her lips parted.

Because you paid a fine for something tied to me. Because you could’ve just handed over the footage and walked away. Because you’re not supposed to do things that feel like... care.

She didn’t say any of that.

And suddenly, he was looking at her again. Really looking. Something softer flickered across his features—not kindness, exactly, but less steel.

It made her chest itch.

"What?" she asked warily, narrowing her eyes. "Why... are you looking at me like that?"

He smirked faintly.

Then, like he was offering her dessert after dinner, he said,

"You’ll pay it back."

Alice blinked.

Her brain short-circuited.

"Wait—what?"

"Ten million," he said lightly. "Plus interest."

Her jaw dropped. "You—you’re joking, right?"

"Am I?" He opened the driver’s door. "Should I write up a contract?"

She stared at him, stunned. Horrified. Maybe—just maybe—a little impressed.

"Why would I have to do that when you were the one who agreed?!" she shot back. "Besides—I did what you asked! I defended you. You’re not going to jail or whatever they would’ve done because of me!"

He arched a brow at her as if to say, Really?

"I don’t care!" she blurted. "Give them the footage! I am not paying you a dime!"

She was bluffing. Oh God, she was bluffing so hard.

"You owe me now," he said simply.

"I DO NOT OWE YOU—"

"Why does ten million fluster you so much?"

His voice was soft.

Too soft.

It scraped against her skin like ice.

Alice’s stomach clenched.

Shit.

Good question.

Her heart kicked in her chest. A little too fast. A little too loud.

Why did it fluster her?

She was supposed to be Aurora Malay. The spoiled, slippery twin. The one who probably had likely tossed ten million down a yacht drain and called it an accident. The one who wore diamond heels like they were law and maybe looked at money the way predators looked at prey—expected, inevitable.

But she—Alice, had reacted too fast.

Too real.

And he’d seen it. Of course he had. Hades didn’t miss things. She saw the shift in his eyes—the near-smile that never made it to his mouth. The kind that wasn’t joy. Just... interest. Like a crack in a mask.

Hers.

No.

She couldn’t let that crack widen.

Alice straightened slowly, like she was peeling someone else’s spine onto her own. She dusted her sleeve, even though there was nothing there, and crossed her arms.

Cool.

"I wasn’t flustered," she said, dryly. "I was insulted."

He raised a brow. Not in disbelief. Just... noted.

"Insulted."

"Yes. You offered the money like a gift. Now it’s a debt?" She let out a short laugh. "That’s cheap. Even for you."

He didn’t blink. "It was never a gift." fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

"You didn’t say it wasn’t."

"You didn’t ask."

Her jaw clenched.

He always did this. Spoke like a puzzle she didn’t have time to solve.

His eyes moved over her slowly—not with desire. With precision. Dissection. Like she was an animal that had twitched wrong.

"Is this how you argue?" he asked. "With tone and theatrics?"

She smiled tightly. "It works on lesser men."

That almost earned her something. Not quite a smirk—but a twitch at the edge of his mouth. The ghost of an expression.

"You think I’m lesser?"

"I think you’re allergic to saying thank you."

He said nothing. Just looked at her. Like silence was sharper than whatever insult he could muster.

God.

This man was exhausting.

Then he took a step toward her.

It wasn’t threatening.

It was worse.

It was calm.

Too calm.

He moved like he was always in control of the air around him. And that control was contagious, because now her own breathing felt shallow.

"You don’t smell like a spoiled girl," he said.

The words were casual. But his voice was low. Rough. Like it had walked through something before reaching her.

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

He didn’t answer. A small piece of ash, loose from his earlier cigar, had landed on her cheek. She didn’t feel it—only noticed when he reached forward and brushed it off with a finger.

The touch was featherlight.

But she froze anyway.

Not from the contact. From the audacity.

He had told her—warned her, clearly and coldly—that if she touched him again, he’d get rid of her fingers. And she’d believed him. Fully. It wasn’t the kind of thing Hades said for effect.

But this?

This was different.

He touched her like it was nothing. Like it meant nothing.

Why did he get to do that?

She slapped his hand away—not hard. Just firm. Just enough.

"Don’t touch me," she said, voice flat.

He stared at her. Not angry. Not surprised. Just... still.

Something unreadable passed across his eyes.

Then he turned, and without a word, walked to the car and opened the door.

For her.

Alice blinked.

"What," she said, wary.

"Get in."

"I didn’t agree to go anywhere—"

"A drive. Outside the estate."

She stared at him. "Are you going to kill me?"

"No."

He said it like it bored him.

"Then what?"

He didn’t answer. Just held the door open, eyes like slate.

There was a pause—just a second—but in that second, something in his gaze shifted. It wasn’t soft. Hades didn’t do soft. But it wasn’t hostile either.

It looked like... curiosity.

Or maybe possession.

Or maybe something much worse.

Alice’s throat tightened.

But the offer still stood: outside the estate.

Even if it was with the devil himself, she wanted that. Needed it. Needed a break from the walls and cameras and heavy silences of this cold-blooded kingdom. And she knew if Hades was taking her out, no one would question her for it. She was breaking no laws.

But... why was he offering?

She reluctantly went ahead and slid into the seat.

The car door closed behind her with a soft, final click.

Cold.

The air inside the car was sharper than outside. Goosebumps prickled her arms.

She stared straight ahead, lips pressed tight.

A moment later, the driver’s door opened and he got in. No rush. No comment. Just precise movement and an adjusted seat. He didn’t even look at her.

Fine.

Good.

She turned her face to the window, trying not to glance at his reflection in the glass.

And then—

The vent shifted.

Subtle.

Barely a sound.

He reached forward and tilted the air vent away from her. Just slightly. Then turned the fan down one notch.

Her breath caught.

He hadn’t asked.

Hadn’t said anything.

But he’d noticed.

He noticed she was cold.

She turned her face further toward the glass, away from him, away from herself.

Why?

Why did he do things like that?

Why did he terrify her one second and adjust the temperature the next?

She didn’t understand him.

And that was the worst part.

Because she was starting to want to.

Meanwhile, in Block D, three men and a woman were having dinner, but all had their faces glues to their notepads.

Milo lifted his head slowly and smiled brightly at the others.

"Boss is finally on the move!" He announced proudly.