Eve sighed dramatically, adjusting his apron as he stared at the dinner slowly simmering on the stove. Ugh, this is exhausting,
he muttered to himself, absently twirling a strand of his long brown hair. How did I end up in this situation?
At first, pretending to like Honey had been a chore. Sure, playing the part of the doting partner came with its own perks, but the constant hugging and kisses—ugh. The worst part was when Honey would sneak up behind him, arms wrapping around his petite waist, whispering something in his ear. God, that was intense. He’d have to force the sweetest smile while internally screaming.
But there was more to his misery than just Honey's affection. There was the house. No servants, no help. Everything fell on Eve’s delicate shoulders. Cooking, cleaning, tidying up—it was like he’d been transformed from a secret agent into a glorified housewife overnight. A real housewife,
he mumbled, poking at the food with mild irritation. This was the price of the mission: infiltrating the life of a wanted criminal by becoming his ideal, submissive wife. The criminal in question? Honey, a man in deep with drug dealers and arms traffickers who made Eve’s job infinitely harder.
But despite being the kingpin of chaos, Honey was surprisingly... pleasant. Eve had expected a cold-blooded psychopath, not someone who'd hand him gifts or shower him with compliments. There were a lot of people out for Honey’s blood, and yet, thanks to the wall of protection around him, the authorities couldn’t lay a finger on him. Enter Eve, the ultimate spy, who had transformed himself into the perfect little spouse to gather intel.
Except, things got... complicated. Okay, maybe Eve had gone a little too deep. He’d played the part too well, gotten married to the guy, and now here he was, stirring soup and waiting for his ‘husband’ to come home. But it was all for the mission, right? Right?
