Chapter 7 His Scars

That night, Gianna finally understood what Tristan meant when he promised to improve his performance.

Tristan was her first man, so she wasn't sure if all men had such stamina.

They exhausted two boxes of condoms, yet Tristan remained reluctant to release her from his passionate embrace.

Eventually, Gianna's tearful pleas softened his determination, allowing her the mercy of sleep.

When Gianna stirred the following morning, she discovered the space beside her empty and cool to the touch.

Tristan had clearly risen earlier.

After refreshing herself, she ventured into the living room but found no trace of him.

Instead, a breakfast awaited her on the table, accompanied by a handwritten note.

It read, "Off to work. Don't forget to eat breakfast!"

A knowing smile crept across her face as she considered that perhaps this marriage held more promise than she'd initially thought.

At Pinnacle Group, Tristan carefully secured their marriage certificate in the safe as soon as he entered his office.

Nestled beside it lay a ring-the feminine counterpart to the one adorning his own finger.

He gazed contemplatively at both items, lost in private reflection.

His reverie shattered when the office door swung open abruptly.

Doran Schultz sauntered in with casual confidence. "What treasure are you hiding this early in the morning?"

Regaining his composure, Tristan turned and settled into his chair. "What brings you here?"

"You haven't answered my question," Aaron replied with a mischievous glint in his eye.

The Murray and Schultz families shared generations of friendship, and Doran had known Tristan since childhood. Tristan had been sent abroad by his family after a car accident years ago, but their friendship hadn't faded with distance.

Tristan shot Doran a cold glance. "Since my return, you've been an increasingly frequent visitor. Does Schultz Group not require your attention?"

Doran recalled his purpose. "I'm here about this. The Fletcher family is hosting a birthday celebration soon. I must deliver a gift and would find it tedious to attend alone. Why not accompany me? You've just returned; it presents an excellent opportunity to reconnect with key figures in the business community."

At the mention of the Fletcher family, Tristan frowned and asked, "Do you know Aaron Fletcher?"

"Yes. And it's his father's birthday. You're acquainted with Aaron? He's developed quite the reputation as a charmer among women in our circle," Doran remarked with undisguised contempt.

Without further discussion, Tristan summoned his assistant to arrange an appropriate gift.

...

When Tristan arrived home that evening, the tantalizing aroma of freshly prepared food greeted him before he even crossed the threshold.

He entered, hanging his coat methodically on the rack.

The inviting glow of soft lighting illuminated a meal that appeared as delectable as it smelled. The sight of Gianna moving efficiently through the semi-open kitchen caught him by surprise.

Through countless imagined reunions with Gianna, he had never dared envision establishing a home together merely days after reconnecting.

Drawn to her, Tristan crossed the room and gently encircled her from behind.

Gianna momentarily froze as his distinctive scent enveloped her. Her cheeks flushed warmly as she murmured, "What's wrong?"

She couldn't shake the impression that Tristan had adapted to their situation with surprising ease.

Recognizing the impropriety of his impulse, Tristan promptly released her. "You shouldn't have to cook anymore. Let me handle this responsibility from now on."

Gianna wondered if she had imagined the undercurrent of tenderness in his voice. "It's just cooking. It's no burden..."

Before she could complete her thought, Tristan firmly removed the utensils from her grasp. "I'll do it."

As he held the kitchen implements, his watch strap shifted slightly, revealing a scar etched across his wrist.

Gianna caught a glimpse peripherally and recalled noticing similar marks across his back previously.

She asked without thinking, "What happened to your wrist?"