The Devil’s Convenient Wife

Chapter 4

ZARA’S POV

My head felt like someone was driving nails into my skull from the inside.

The worst hangover of my life had arrived with its full force, punishing me for every single terrible decision I made last night.

I woke up slowly, squinting my eyes against the bright sunlight pouring in through tall glass windows. This wasn’t my bedroom.

This was a massive penthouse suite that screamed luxury and power. The bed was enormous and the bed sheets were tangled around my completely naked body.

My thighs felt sticky, my muscles hurt in places I didn’t even know could be hurt, and the unmistakable scent of s*x and a man’s cologne was stuck to every inch of my skin.

I started getting flashes from last night, each one kept hitting me like an unprecedented punch.

The elevator. Cael pressing me against the wall. His mouth on my neck. The way I begged him to f**k me harder. The sounds I made. The way he watched me the entire time with those calm, intense brown eyes.

I sat up quickly and immediately regretted it. The room took a three sixty spin right before my eyes, and I felt nausea hit me almost immediately.

I grabbed the closest thing I could find, which turned out to be a big white button-down shirt that smelt strongly of him, and put it on.

The shirt swallowed me entirely and stopped mid-thigh. I searched around for my clothes or at the least my panties. But I couldn’t find any of them.

I needed to get out of here. Fast.

Barefoot, I made my way down the stairs, following the sound of quiet movement in the kitchen. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

Cael stood at the marble island, wearing only grey sweatpants that hung dangerously on his hips. His back was to me and his muscles shifted smoothly as he cooked.

He looked way too calm, as if cooking breakfast after a night of wild s*x and an impulsive marriage was the most normal thing in the world.

He turned when he heard me, those brown eyes landing on me immediately. A small smile touched his lips.

“Good morning, wife,” he said in that smooth, steady voice. “I made breakfast.”

He slid a plate across the island, it contained perfectly fried eggs, golden toast, and a glass of warm milk. Which actually looked good. Next to it, he placed a glass of water and two white pills.

“Take these. They’ll help with the hangover.”

I stared at the pills, then at him. My hand stayed frozen at my side.

Cael raised one eyebrow, looking mildly amused. “Why would I want to kill my newly wedded wife on the first morning?”

My mouth went dry. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He nodded toward my left hand. “Look.”

I lifted my hand slowly. The silver wedding band gleamed under the kitchen light. Everything came rushing back in one very sick, overwhelming wave.

The bar. Spilling his drink. Telling him about Marcus and Nadia. The 24-hour chapel with its cheap neon lights and a sleepy officiant. Me saying “I do” like a crazy person.

That deep, hungry kiss at the altar. Then the penthouse… the way he f****d me against the door, on the bed, over and over again until I couldn’t think straight. The way I screamed his name like I had lost my mind.

Heat crawled up my neck and face. Embarrassment hit me so hard I felt dizzy.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

I backed away from the island, shaking my head. “No. No, no, no. This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening.”

“Zara—” Cael started, still calm as ever.

“Don’t.” My voice came out louder than I expected. “Just… don’t say anything right now.”

I turned and rushed back upstairs on shaky legs. In the bedroom, I looked around and grabbed everything that seemed like mine—my dress, purse, heels, phone.

My hands were trembling so badly I dropped my bra twice. I left his shirt on because I was too desperate to leave to keep searching for my panties.

Cael appeared in the doorway again, watching me quietly.

I pushed past him without meeting his eyes and headed for the elevator. The ride down felt endless. My chest was constricted and my mind racing. How could I have been so stupid? Drunk or not, I had married a complete stranger and let him f**k me senseless all night.

The second I stepped out of Ashford Towers, I called my driver. “Come pick me up right now. At Ashford Towers. Hurry.”

The car arrived quickly. I climbed into the back seat, still barefoot, still wearing Cael’s shirt, with my hair in a complete mess. My driver glanced at me for a minute but didn’t say a word. Smart man.

As soon as we started moving, I dialed my mother’s estate lawyer with trembling fingers.

“Mr. Reynolds, it’s Zara Calloway. I did something really stupid last night. I got drunk and married a stranger named Cael Ashford. I need an annulment. Make it go away before anyone finds out.”

There was a long silence on the other end. I heard papers shuffling.

“Zara… I’m looking at the will right now. The clause is very strict. Any marriage has to stand for at least thirty full days. If you annul within the first thirty days, it counts as if the marriage never happened. The inheritance reverts straight to Victor’s control immediately.”

My blood turned to ice. “What?!”

The driver jumped in his seat at my loud voice.

Mr. Reynolds continued calmly, “Your mother wrote it that way to prevent impulsive decisions or people trying to game the system. Thirty days minimum. After that, you can divorce cleanly and the inheritance transfers to you.”

I hung up without saying goodbye. Thirty days. I was stuck married to a stranger for thirty days or I would lose everything my mother worked for.

By the time I got to my apartment, I felt disgusting. I ran inside barefoot, stripped off Cael’s shirt, and stood under the hottest shower I could stand, scrubbing my skin until it was red.

But no matter how hard I scrubbed, I could still feel his hands on me. His mouth. The way he controlled every moment last night like he had done it a hundred times before.

“Stupid,” I whispered, as my tears mixed with the water. “So f*****g stupid.”

I cried like crazy in the shower.

Angry sobs for Marcus, for Nadia, for my mother, and for the girl who thought she could handle anything Victor threw at her.

When I finally stepped out, I tried to pull off the ring. It wouldn’t budge, it felt like it was mocking me.

My phone rang and I grabbed it to check who was calling. Victor.

I answered, forcing my voice to stay steady. “What do you want?”

“Zara, darling,” he said warmly, like the perfect stepfather. “I heard about Marcus. It’s such a shame. You two seemed so perfect together. If you need help finding a suitable match before the deadline, Gerald has been asking about you.”

My blood boiled with anger, the fake concern coming from his voice made me sick. I sat up on the bed, while my towel slipped off one shoulder, and then I let years of repressed anger guide my tongue.

“Oh, Victor,” I said, matching his fake sweet tone. “How kind of you to call and remind me how replaceable I am. Does it make you feel big, watching me fall apart? Does it get you off knowing you’ve backed me into a corner with my own mother’s will?”

I laughed coldly. “You must be so proud of yourself. Twelve years of chipping away at my mother until she was too weak to fight back, and now you’re trying the same s**t with me. Newsflash, Daddy dearest—I’m not as easy to break as you think. And the next time you send one of your old, limp-d**k business friends to ‘help’ me, tell Gerald I’d rather f**k a stranger in a cheap chapel than let him anywhere near me.”

I paused and immediately continued. “Oh and the next time you call to ‘check on’ me while I’m hurting, remember this: I learned from the best how to smile while I sharpen the knife. So keep pushing me, and I’ll make sure you regret every single time you underestimated me.”

I hung up before he could say anything else. My hands were shaking again, but this time from rage. I wanted to scream, to throw the phone across the room.

Fresh tears started forming by the corners of my eyes again, but then the doorbell rang.

I froze.

It rang again and then went silent.

Then I heard the electronic lock beep. Someone had a keycard and was entering my apartment.

My heart started racing and I grabbed a towel, wrapping it around myself as careful footsteps sounded on the marble floor, getting closer and closer to the bedroom.

The handle turned slowly and the door opened.

And standing there was Cael Ashford, looking as calm and put-together as ever, holding my forgotten panties in one hand like a peace offering.

“We need to talk, wife,” he said quietly, scanning my face with his eyes that carried the same unnerving intensity from last night. “Because this marriage isn’t going away in the next thirty days… and I think we both know why.”