Chapter 2: Wedding Dress Surprise
Alex stretched, the silk sheets sliding like water over her bare thighs. Her fingertips brushed empty space where Gojo’s warmth should’ve been—just cold linen and the ghost of his scent clinging to the pillow. She exhaled through her nose, rolling onto her back. *Again*.
The candles had burned down to nubs, wax pooling in abstract shapes across the nightstand. Her engagement ring glinted beside a folded scrap of paper, his messy scrawl bleeding through the thin sheet. She snatched it up, already smirking at the inevitable bullshit.
*"Mission called. Back soon. Don’t get into too much trouble. PS: Look for the surprises. XOXO, SG."*
"Surprises my ass," she muttered, but her chest fluttered anyway.
---
The shower scalded her skin pink, steam curling off her shoulders as she braced her palms against the tile. Last night played behind her eyelids—Gojo’s teeth on her neck, his hands wrenching her thighs apart, the obscene *slap* of flesh as he fucked her raw against the window with the whole city glittering below them. She bit her lip, water sluicing between her legs.
She found the first note taped to the coffee machine, the paper warped from steam. *Where do we share our deepest secrets?*
"The roof, you dramatic fuck," she said to the empty kitchen.
---
Wind tugged at her robe as she stepped onto the rooftop garden, cherry blossoms scattering across the koi pond’s surface. The ornate box nearly toppled into the water when she yanked it open. Inside, a key glinted beside another note.
*Second clue: Where do we wash away our worries?*
She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt.
---
The master bathroom still smelled like sex and his cologne. She knelt, silk robe pooling around her knees, and jammed the key into the cabinet lock. The scarf inside was the one he’d tied around her wrists last week—*"Keep still, princess, or I’ll make you."* Her pulse jumped.
The third clue was scrawled on the back of a room service receipt. *Where do we feed our souls?*
"Christ, he’s insufferable," she lied, already striding toward the dining room.
---
Half-eaten desserts congealed on gold-rimmed plates. The locket sat atop a smear of chocolate, chain coiled like a snake. Inside, their faces grinned back at her—Gojo’s blindfold pushed up, her lips swollen from kissing.
*Final clue: Where do we dream?*
She was running before the note hit the floor.
---
The bedroom looked untouched. She tore through drawers, flipped pillows, even checked under the fucking bed. Nothing. Her nails scraped the wall behind their framed photo—a vacation shot where his hand was blatantly up her skirt—and the panel gave with a *click*.
The hidden door slid open.
---
Wedding dresses. Dozens. Maybe hundreds.
She stumbled forward, fingertips grazing lace, silk, tulle that whispered against her skin. A mermaid gown dripped pearls. A ballgown’s skirt could’ve housed a small family. One had a neckline so low it’d barely cover her nipples—*he’d picked that one for himself, obviously.*
Tears blurred her vision. The bastard had even included a pantsuit.
---
The final note rested on a velvet cushion, his handwriting looping like a noose.
*Choose one. Or choose them all. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re mine, and I can’t wait to make you my wife. See you soon, Mrs. Gojo.*
Alex collapsed against the doorframe, laughing through the sob in her throat. "You’re paying for my fucking therapy."