I'm Not Your Whore!

Alana stood in front of the grand, towering mansion, her fingers clenching the cold metal of her suitcase handle. The night air was thick with tension, a silent omen of the life she was about to step into. This wasn't a wedding. It wasn't a new beginning. It was a transaction-a punishment she had never asked for.

The double doors of the estate loomed before her, intimidating and unwelcoming. They swung open without a sound, revealing the man she had been forced to marry. Adrian Carlisle.

He stood at the threshold, tall and imposing, his sharp features sculpted in contempt. His storm-gray eyes were devoid of warmth as they roamed over her, assessing her like one would a cheap commodity.

"So, you're finally here." His voice was cold, detached, and filled with unmistakable disdain.

Alana swallowed hard, refusing to shrink beneath his gaze. "I didn't have a choice."

Adrian let out a humorless chuckle, stepping aside to let her in. "Of course, you didn't. That's what happens when your family sells you to the highest bidder."

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, but she forced herself to remain composed. She had expected cruelty. She had prepared for it.

Stepping inside, she was immediately enveloped in the overwhelming presence of luxury-marble floors, gilded chandeliers, and an atmosphere so suffocatingly pristine that it made her feel even more like an intruder.

"You'll find that I'm not a generous husband, Alana." Adrian's voice cut through the silence, making her spine stiffen. "You are here to fulfill your end of the deal, nothing more. Do not expect love, kindness, or respect. You won't find any of those things in this house."

Her chest tightened, but she met his gaze head-on. "And what exactly do you expect from me?"

Adrian stepped closer, his presence dominating the space between them. His fingers brushed against her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. The touch was deceptively gentle, but his eyes held nothing but cruelty.

"You already know the answer to that," he murmured. "You belong to me now, whether you like it or not."

Alana's stomach twisted with revulsion. "I'm not your whore," she spat, jerking away from his grasp.

Adrian smirked, a dark amusement dancing in his eyes. "No? Then prove it."

She didn't understand what he meant, but she knew one thing for certain-this marriage was a cage, and he was the one holding the key.