The Accidental Bride

Chapter Five: Rules of Fire

Afterwards, the drive to the hotel was quiet. Isabella pressed her forehead against the cool glass, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Her life had unraveled in a single night—her wedding gown still clung to her like a curse, the priest’s words still echoed in her ears, and the stranger beside her had just become her husband.

When the car stopped, she lifted her head and gasped. The hotel towered above her, glowing with golden lights that spilled down its polished walls. This wasn’t the kind of place ordinary people walked into, it looked like something reserved for the rich, the powerful.

As Gabriel stepped out and came around to open her door, something strange happened. People noticed him.

The doorman straightened at once, dipping his head. A pair of suited men waiting in the lobby doorway murmured greetings. Even a woman at the reception desk froze mid-sentence, her eyes widening before quickly looking away.

Isabella blinked in confusion. Why was everyone treating a simple cab driver like royalty?

But Gabriel didn’t acknowledge them. He slipped his hand into Isabella’s and walked forward, his stride steady, his gaze fixed ahead. Heads turned, whispers floated, but he ignored them all, guiding her firmly through the lobby as though none of it mattered.

She leaned toward him, whispering, “Why does everyone know you?”

A slow smile tugged at his lips. “Because I’m a Bolt driver. I talk to people every day. I love people. That’s all.”

Isabella frowned. That didn’t explain the way even the hotel manager had bowed slightly as they passed. But she forced herself to let it go. He was her husband now, at least in name. She had chosen this path. Questioning it too much would only make her dizzy.

They entered the suite, and Isabella stopped short.

The room was breathtaking, something she had never had opportunity to see before. A chandelier sparkled overhead, golden light scattering across crisp white sheets. The carpet was soft beneath her bare feet, and wide windows framed a glittering view of the city.

“This is…” she whispered, at a loss for words. “Gabriel, this is too much. It'll cost us so much money.”

Gabriel shrugged, setting his jacket neatly on the chair. “It’s just a room. I actually helped a wealthy man some years ago, and he granted me the access to this room whenever I warned.”

He stretched, rolled his shoulders, and began unbuttoning his shirt.

Isabella’s eyes betrayed her. The shirt slid from his broad shoulders, revealing muscle sculpted like something out of a painting, hard lines softened by the glow of the chandelier. Her gaze lingered against her will, tracing the ridges of his chest, the tautness of his arms, the way his body seemed to radiate quiet power.

Her breath caught. Her cheeks burned.

And then he turned.

His eyes found hers, sharp and unreadable. The corner of his mouth tilted upward.

“How old are you?” he asked suddenly.

The question jolted her. “Excuse me?”

He stepped closer, voice lower this time. “I said, how old are you?” He repeated leaning towards her.

She swallowed. “Twenty-five.”

“Good,” he murmured. “Not too young to stare at your husband.” He laughed softly, the sound teasing and deep.

Her whole face went crimson. “I was not staring,” she snapped, jumping to her feet. “You’re not my kind of man.” She turned and marched toward the door, hoping the movement would cool her embarrassment.

But Gabriel was faster.

In two strides he was there, his hand pressing gently but firmly against the door, blocking her escape. Isabella froze, her back brushing the hard wood, her front pressed into the heat of his presence.

His gaze locked on hers. It wasn’t playful now, it was steady, unblinking, searching. The air between them tightened, electric, until she could hear nothing but the pounding of her own heart.

She shut her eyes, trembling, bracing for what she thought would come, the brush of his lips, the dangerous crossing of a line neither of them had agreed to cross.

Her body ached with nerves, waiting for his kiss. She could feel his breath near her cheek, the steady thrum of his chest so close she thought it might melt into her own heartbeat.

But then, unexpectedly, he stepped back.

Without another word, he turned and walked toward the bathroom.

The sound of running water followed a moment later as he disappeared behind the door. His voice came through, calm, almost amused. “Don’t forget the rules.”

The door shut with a soft click.

Isabella’s eyes flew open. She stood frozen, heart hammering, her hands trembling at her sides. Heat rushed through her face, relief, embarrassment, anger all tangled together.

She pressed her palms over her cheeks, sinking against the door in defeat. She hated how easily he had unraveled her, how quickly she had lost control of herself under his gaze.

Sliding down onto the edge of the bed, Isabella pulled her knees to her chest. She stared at the chandelier, at the glittering city beyond the windows, and whispered into the empty room, “What have I gotten myself into?”