The Devil's Betrothed novel Chapter 574

Chapter 574: Punishment

Oriana was relieved that later Arlan didn’t take her back to the bed. She freshened up and changed into new clothes, as the dress she had worn on her arrival lay torn and discarded on the floor. As she picked it up, Arlan, preening in front of the mirror, caught her eye.

"Do not concern yourself with that," he said dismissively. "The servants will handle it."

By ’handle it’ she knew he meant it would be thrown away.

"You don’t have to tear my clothes every time, wasting these expensive fabrics," she protested.

Arlan chuckled as continued to button his jacket while looking at her through the mirror. "Your husband can afford to tear them and buy you several more without a second thought. Don’t worry about it."

"Such extravagance. You wealthy people will never understand the true value of money," she sighed deeply.

Arlan stepped towards her, positioning himself squarely in front of her. "You’re one of us now, remember? You were meant to be a princess, if not for those who coveted your family’s position," he reminded her. "Besides, we wealthy do value money—we have to work hard to earn it. It’s just that once we have it, we’re not afraid to spend it generously and live in comfort. After all, money is meant to be spent. To earn it and simply let it sit idle is the real waste."

Her eyes narrowed playfully. "What logic! Should I applaud you for that insight?" she mocked. "Why not donate some of it to those in need, instead of squandering it?"

He raised a brow. "Give my hard-earned money to the poor just like that, turning them into ungrateful idlers who do nothing but wait for more handouts? Do you want this kingdom to be a den of idlers?"

"I don’t support wasting money either," Oriana countered firmly.

"Did you know that by tearing your dress, I’ve actually helped some needy people?" he asserted.

Puzzled, she responded, "Huh?" She braced herself for another bout of his unconventional reasoning.

"Let me explain," he said, taking the heavy fabric from her hands and examining it closely. "This dress was crafted by the efforts of many workers under the royal tailors. The labor required to create just one such garment can provide each of them with at least half a year’s earnings."

"What are you trying to say?" Oriana asked, still confused.

"By tearing one dress, I create the need for another to be made, providing more work for these tailors. That means I’m actually supporting their livelihood by ensuring they have continuous work and fair compensation. This way, they are earning their keep, not idling away."

Oriana understood his point, but she couldn’t help but chuckle. This man’s mind truly operates on a different wavelength. there was no way for anyone to win an argument with him.

Seeing her chuckle, Arlan responded, "Now do you understand that tearing your dress is, in fact, not a waste?"

She nodded slightly, her tone playfully sarcastic. "I apologize for doubting your noble intentions in tearing my dress. I had no idea Your Highness put so much thought into the welfare of this kingdom before deciding to rip my garment."

Arlan tossed the dress back onto the floor and drew her close, his gaze intensifying as he locked eyes with her. "When I tear your dress, I think only of what I will do next with you. There’s no room for any other thoughts. All I consider is how completely I can have you... How you would..."

Her palm covered his mouth, her face flushing a deep shade of red.

"I’ve understood enough. Say no more," she interjected.

His lips curved into a smile against her hand, which she then withdrew.

"Alright, I’ve made my intentions clear all night, so words are unnecessary now," he continued. "But I enjoyed your concern over wasting money. It’s just like a typical wife, nagging her husband, and I loved it. Feel free to keep nagging me like that."

"So you can counter me with some strange logic of yours?"

"I might correct you in other ways too, without a single word," he replied, his gaze laden with meaning. "Actions speak louder than words, isn’t it? And I like it when you are louder."

"Shameless!"

"I have always been."

Oriana simply smiled, a gentle light in her eyes. How had they become so comfortable with each other, so attuned as to banter like a married couple? This playful argument had a sweetness to it that she hadn’t expected, and she found herself enjoying the role of a typical wife, her smile subtly deepening. Suddenly, everything between them felt right, as there was nothing wrong between them to begin with, those ugly fights and quarrels never even happened—they were meant to be this way only.

"What are you thinking?" Arlan asked, curious.

"Nothing," she replied softly, a serene expression on her face.

Arlan leaned in to peck her lips. "Were you waiting for this?"

Her smile widened, and she nodded. In response, he playfully pecked her lips a few more times.

Just then, a knock on the door broke their intimate exchange. "Your Highness, the meal is ready," announced Roman from the other side.

He must be a mind reader, she mused before venturing, "Last night, you said..." She paused, clearing her throat awkwardly, "that you..."