The Tyrant's Bride: His Plaything, His Prisoner

"I don't know what I bumped into! I'll clean it up quickly! It won't get dirty, and I'll wash it with cold water later!"

Aria stood there timidly, her voice soft and apologetic.

Her big eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her injured arm added a pitiful touch.

It was the kind of scene that could melt even the coldest of hearts, though Carter didn't seem particularly moved.

With a heavy sigh, Carter grabbed another bath towel and rubbed her damp hair twice with little patience.

"You haven't even taken a proper bath yet, and you've already scalded yourself? How stupid can you be?"

His words were sharp, but Aria detected a trace of concern buried beneath his gruff tone.

He turned to the closet, yanked it open, and retrieved a fresh bathrobe, tossing it at her with a flick of his wrist.

"I'll adjust the water temperature for you. Go out and apply some medicine first," he barked, his tone still curt.

Despite his rudeness, a small warmth flickered in Aria's chest.

She wasn't sure why, but the gesture, however gruff, felt oddly comforting.

---

When Carter returned from the bathroom, he found Aria standing awkwardly a step away from the sofa, her expression conflicted.

"What are you standing there for? Is your brain burned too?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Aria pursed her lips and turned her head. "I was just wondering... what if I dirty the sofa?"

Carter gave her a pointed look. "And this is the only thing left you haven't dirtied yet?"

The sarcasm was obvious, and Aria wasn't about to let it slide.

Huffing, she plopped herself down on the sofa, though not without some caution.

She shifted her weight carefully, sitting only halfway, as if testing the waters.

Carter shook his head, suppressing a sigh.

Pulling out the ointment, he approached her with determined strides. "Sit still."

Aria flinched slightly as he scooped a bit of the cool ointment and began applying it to her reddened arm.

His movements were brisk but not careless.

"This stuff works fast," he muttered, not meeting her gaze. "It won't hurt in two minutes. I've swapped out the toiletries in the bathroom for ones you can handle. Try not to burn yourself again, alright? Shower, apply more medicine before bed, and those red marks will be gone by tomorrow."

"Oh… thank you," Aria murmured, a bit caught off guard by his efficiency.

Standing up, she hesitated. "I'll clean up the bathroom first!"

"Don't even think about it," Carter snapped. "The last thing I need is you tearing down the entire place. The servants will handle it tomorrow."

Aria pouted, her voice dropping to a mock-hurt whisper. "Oh…"

She turned to leave, but not before a mischievous glint flickered in her eyes.

Second round: a small victory.

---

The warm water and the familiar scent of lavender shampoo helped melt away some of Aria's frustrations as she bathed.

She took her time, enjoying the rare moment of solitude.

But, of course, her peace didn't last.

"Sleep on the sofa," Carter's cold voice called from the living room the moment she stepped out of the bathroom.

Aria didn't argue.

Wrapped in the oversized men's T-shirt he had prepared, she padded over to the sofa.

She knew better than to push her luck.

Carter wasn't stupid; her little tricks earlier wouldn't fool him forever.

It was better to stop while she was ahead.

He's probably letting me off lightly this time to save face, she thought.

No need to test his patience.

Smart as ever, Aria quietly set up her temporary bed on the sofa.

After all, she had spent the last three years perfecting the art of reading people.

A man like Carter? She could handle him.

Just as they were settling in, a voice from outside the door broke the silence.

"Young Master, are you awake?" Madden, the elderly servant who attended to Carter's grandmother, called out. "The old lady asked me to bring some clothes for the young miss!"

Both Aria and Carter froze.

In a flurry of motion, Aria grabbed her pillow and blanket and stuffed them into the nearby cabinet.

In two quick steps, she was on the bed, pretending to be asleep.

Carter, on the other hand, strode to the door with his usual composed demeanor.

Madden greeted him warmly as he opened the door. "Master Carter, the old lady said she wasn't satisfied with the preparations. She found some unworn pajamas at the bottom of her wardrobe. The styles are a bit outdated, but they're new and should suffice for tonight. Tomorrow, brand-new clothes will be delivered."

Her sharp eyes glanced past Carter into the room.

Carter stood firm, his tone neutral. "Got it. Thank Grandma for me."