And again I feel like a stranger in my own house. This attention and circumspection is completely new to me. I learned early on to stand on my own two feet, self-determined. In retrospect, Julian was not the man I see standing by my side in my dreams. Alec, however, does exactly all the things I want my partner to do. Still, a sour aftertaste remains. Alec is not my boyfriend. He's some guy I married with clouded senses in a spur-of-the-moment Vegas wedding.

After breakfast I get ready for the day and go to my office to continue yesterday's work. By getting up early, I still have plenty of time before I have to go to the newsroom. I take a deep breath, go to the desk and just stand there for minutes, staring at the wooden top. Everything is back where it was before. Before Alec grabbed me and took me on a journey that even today causes a pleasant tingling in my loins. Just the thought of his dominant way of taking what he desired, of wanting me, makes my blood boil and makes me breathe heavily.

Only slowly does my mind clear. Will I ever be able to work here again without the images of us in my head? I don't know. It is also not the right moment to fathom this. The review is waiting to be finished and the admonishing voice of my editor is haunting my mind. It is already noon when I save my text and send the email to the editor. Mentally, I prepare myself for a long review and replenish my supply of nerve food. A bag of liquorice snacks goes into my rucksack along with my laptop and notepad.

I successfully block out thoughts of Alec and the upcoming conversation. For me, there is nothing to talk about. I see it for what it was. An adventure, a one-night stand. The editorial meeting drags on like chewing gum. My supply of nerve food is almost exhausted when it is finally my turn. Mr Wayland is a middle-aged gentleman. With his grey hair and small round glasses, he always looks like the friendly grandpa next door. But outward appearances are deceptive.

He often sat here in the large meeting room with his head red and his eyes wide open. Hands clenched into fists and swearing wildly because the competition was once again faster and published the headline of the day before us. So far, there has been no such outburst. Some time ago, Mr Wayland was given a nickname by a colleague. Red angry bird. Said colleague found it extremely funny and his peals of laughter could be heard throughout the office. Mr Wayland, however, did not find it so funny. He stood in the doorway of his office with his head red and his lips pressed together and threw a tantrum par excellence. I don't need to mention that the colleague in question now works in the advertising office and has since been banned from publishing articles under his name.

I breathe a sigh of relief as Mr Wayland nods off my review and says a few appreciative words.

"Good good. Very nice Magnus. But you made a mistake", he says. I skim my copy of the article and can't find any mistake. I wonder what he means.

"Lightwood. Magnus Lightwood?", he asks and I can already feel the questioning looks of my colleagues on me.

"Yes... Lightwood."

"Are you working under a pseudonym now? Why don't they discuss this with me? Why am I only finding out about this now?" His mood changes.

"No. It's not a pseudonym", I say quickly.

"I got married. Sort of." I counter. A glance around reveals to me a wide variety of realisations. Most look at me in disbelief. A few smile and one sits opposite me with his face contorted in anger. I ignore him and force myself to smile.

"Surprise", I say, feignedly cheerful, hoping my act won't be noticed. I don't fancy the whole newsroom finding out about my crash and wedding in Vegas. There is only one I have to take care of. But I'll put that off until later.

"Who's the lucky guy?", my boss asks and before I can answer, he keeps talking blithely.

"No, don't say anything. Just bring him to the company party. Then we can meet him. Congratulations Magnus. I like the name. It suits you."

Mr Wayland ends the meeting and all present leave the room almost in a hurry. I calmly pack up my things and cast furtive glances at the man opposite me. He drums his fingers on the tabletop and nervously bobs his leg. He has every possible insult and hate speech he knows on the tip of his tongue. I can see that clearly. Besides, I have known him for many years not only professionally but also privately.

"Do you have something to say to me Mark?", I ask neutrally. He doesn't answer me and I look at him seriously. His eyes twitch back and forth and I recognise anger in them. Every muscle in his body is tense.

"Is that true?", he asks angrily. I can't blame him. Still, I don't like his tone.

"Yes", I reply curtly.

"I don't get it. My brother's been crying his eyes out over you for weeks. And you come in here and casually tell me you're married. You. Magnus-Mr-I'll-never-marry-you-Bane." He literally spits the words at my feet and my patience is at an end. I feel the heat rising inside me, bracing myself on the tabletop and sparking angrily at Mark. He was always on his brother's side.

"Now listen to me carefully Mark Blackthorn. I will not be insulted by you. You don't have a clue. You don't know me or my motives. I know Julian never talked about why I didn't want to get married. And it's none of your business either. Julian doesn't know I'm married. And if you love your brother, you'll keep it that way. If you tell him about it, you'll have to live with his emotional pain, too. I'm out. So leave me alone. Take your anger and shove it. I don't care. But I'm going to my house now and wait for my husband."

With these words, I leave him alone. I say goodbye to my boss and colleagues. The coming conversation with Alec slips back into my thoughts. And my words to Mark. I didn't just say that because of me. Also because of Alec. Because Mark's words also attacked Alec. And I won't tolerate that. It's not Alec's fault.