h a heavy thud, loc

suite was drenched in golden lamplight, the walls lined with velvet shadows, the air too still, too

. Her fingers twisted the lace at her waist, pulling, clutching, desperate for so

t slow, deliberate. The fabric landed across a chair,

ice thin, shaky but defiant. "The part where I'm meant to play the wife. S

room inch by inch until the air itself bent around him. When he stopped, close enough that the

was low, rough, steady. "That I ask

Then why stand the

hing darker. "Because unlike you, I know wh

against her skin like iron. But beneath it, something

whispered, but her voice

grazing her cheek. "And yet," h

him back, to scream, to remind herself of every reason she should hate him. But when h

ing against the edge of the bed. The space

he said, each word a battle, he

roared louder than any argument. Then he leaned in, his mouth

dy do," he

spun ar

wedding night.