Chapter Four
1569 Words
Ariella stood motionless on the landing, one hand still gripping the banister. Below, the living room had gone deathly quiet after Dylan's warning. She could hear the faint clink of glasses being set down, No more laughters and whispers.
She turned and walked to the bedroom on numb legs.
The door was still open. She stepped inside and closed it softly behind her. The room smelled of him, dark cologne, clean linen, something faintly metallic like power itself.
She pressed her back against the door and closed her eyes.
He had called her his wife.
Not in private. Not in anger. In front of them all.
Her heart couldn't slow down.
She changed out of the ruined cream dress, threw it into the hamper like it had personally offended her, and pulled on soft black leggings and an oversized sweater.
She was brushing her hair when the door opened without a knock.
Dylan stepped in, loosened his Tie, rolled up his sleeves, He looked like a man who had just finished executing someone and was mildly annoyed it took so long.
He shut the door.
Ariella's brush froze mid-stroke.
He crossed the room in four strides and stopped in front of her.
"You're shaking," he said.
"I'm not."
"You are."
She set the brush down. "I'm fine."
His eyes narrowed. "You were not fine downstairs."
"I handled it."
"You shouldn't have had to."
The words hung between them.
Ariella swallowed. "You... you defended me."
He didn't answer right away. he just watched her like he was trying to decide whether to dissect her or devour her.
"I defended what's mine," he said finally.
There it was. The reminder. Always the reminder.
Something inside her snapped.
She took one step forward. Close enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze.
"Then let me go," she said quietly.
Dylan's brows lifted slightly.
"Excuse me?"
"Divorce me." The words came out steadier than she felt. "You have the company now. Your uncle can't touch it. You don't need me anymore. Let me go."
A thick dangerous silence followed.
Then he laughed without humor.
"You think that's how this works?"
"I.....i think that's fair."
He stepped closer. She stepped back. Her shoulders hit the wall.
He planted both hands on either side of her head, caging her in. His body heat wrapped around her like smoke.
"You signed a contract," he said, his voice dangerously soft. "You took my name. You took my money. You took me inside you every night for months. And now you want to walk away because I told a room full of vipers not to spill juice on you?"
Ariella's breath hitched. "I never wanted any of this."
"Yet here you are." His face was inches from hers. "Wet for me. Moaning my name every night. Wearing my ring. You don't get to rewrite the rules just because I showed you a sliver of decency."
Her eyes burned. "Decency? You forced me......."
"Say it again," he cut in, his voicing dropping into agrowl. "Say the word divorce one more time."
She lifted her chin. "Divorce me!!!."
Something feral flashed in his eyes.
His hands flew to her throat firmly and Possessively.
"Never," he said, each word carved from stone, "repeat those words in my presence again."
Her pulse hammered under his palm.
She became terrified by the cold look in his eyes.
His gaze dropped to her mouth.
Then to the way her chest rose and fell too fast under the thin sweater.
He leaned in until his lips brushed her ear.
"You think you can leave me?" he murmured. "After everything I've taken from you? After everything you've given me?"
His free hand slid under her sweater, his rough palm skimming her bare stomach.
She gasped.
He smiled against her skin. "That's what I thought."
He kissed her hard, like he waspunishing her,
She tried to resist, but Dylan held her firmly.
their teeth clashed. His hand on her throat tightened just enough to make her whimper into his mouth.
He broke the kiss only to rip the sweater over her head. No bra underneath. Her breasts spilled free. He palmed one roughly, thumb flicking the n****e until it peaked.
"Look at you," he growled. "Already hard for me. Already dripping."
He shoved her leggings down with one impatient yank.
"Let me go" she said hoarsely
His fingers found her down there, slick, swollen, and ready.
He groaned. "f**k. So wet. You hate me and you're still this soaked."
She gave him a hard slap on his cheeks, "Shut up, I hate you so much!."
His eyes flared.
He spun her around, pressed her chest to the wall. Her palms flattened against the cool surface.
He kicked her legs apart.
The sound of his belt unbuckling was loud in the quiet room.
Then he pushed in his member with one brutal thrust.
Ariella cried out, fingers scrabbling at the wall.
"Stop!!!" She said between sobs and moans, she still hadn't gotten used to his size.
He didn't give her time to adjust. He f****d her hard, deep, and relentless. Each stroke shoved her higher against the wall. His hand returned to her throat from behind, holding her in place while the other gripped her hip hard enough to bruise.
"You think you can leave?" he rasped against her ear. he thrust inside her "You think anyone else gets this?" he thrusts again. "This p***y is mine."
a low breathy moan came out of her Ariella's mouth
"Say it," he demanded.
She felt shameful, but said nothing, then she bit her lips and tried hard not to moan.
He reached around, found her c**t, and rubbed fast circles.
She shattered almost immediately and almost screamed his name, walls pulsing around him.
He followed seconds later, burying himself deep and spilling inside her with a guttural groan.
They stayed like that, panting, sweat-slicked, his forehead pressed to the back of her neck.
Slowly he pulled out. Turned her around.
His thumb brushed her swollen bottom lip.
"No more talk of divorce," he said quietly. "Ever."
She stared up at him, feeling disgusted, her chest was heaving.
He kissed her forehead, then walked into the bathroom like nothing had happened.
Ariella slid down the wall until she sat on the floor. her legs were weak, but her heart was weaker.
She touched her throat where his hand had been.
She didn't know what terrified her more:
That he had defended her.
Or that she was starting to want him to keep her.
Ariella remained on the floor long after the bathroom door clicked shut. The cool hardwood pressed against her bare skin, grounding her in the aftermath. Her body still trembled from the intensity, thighs slick with him, Disgust curled in her stomach, not just at him, but at herself. How could she shatter so completely under the man who caged her? How could the same hands that bruised her also make her feel seen, even for a second?
She drew her knees to her chest, hugging them tight. Silent tears streaked down her face, Downstairs the house had returned to its polished hum, glasses clinking again, voices lowered but no longer mocking her. Dylan had silenced them for her.
The thought twisted like a knife.
She wiped her face roughly and forced herself to stand. Her legs wobbled. In the mirror across the room, she looked wrecked: swollen lips, red marks blooming on her neck and hips, hair tangled. Which she saw as a Proof of surrender. A Proof of possession.
She turned away from her reflection and walked to the window. Manhattan glittered below, indifferent and endless. Somewhere out there, Damien might still be coming. Somewhere out there, freedom might still exist.
But right now, the only thing that felt real was the ache between her legs and the echo of Dylan’s voice in her ear: “This p***y is mine.”
She pressed her forehead to the cool glass and whispered to the city lights, “What am I becoming?”
All she felt was sorrow and twisted feelings she couldn't describe.
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