The Secret Bride

The Contract Wedding

Chapter Two: The Wedding 💍

"And if don't? she challenged softly. His gaze hardened. "Then your family loses everything. And trust me, Amanda, I don't make threats I can't keep."

The car fell into silence after that, hum of the engine the only sound.

When the limousine pulled up to a towering iron gate, Amanda's breath caught. Before it, sprawled across of manicured.

gardens, was Steele Manor-a mansion so vast it looked like something out of a dream. Or a nightmare.

Her new home.

Damon led her inside without a word . The marble floors gleamed beneath crystal chandeliers, and servants lined the hall, bowing slightly as he passed. Their eyes flickered with curiosity when they looked at her, but none dared to speak.

This will be your room," Damon said curtly once they reached the second floor. He pushed open a door to reveal a lavish bedroom with sild curtains, a king- sized bed, and a balcony overlooking the gardens.

"My room?" she repeated, confused. "Not...ours?"

His eyes darkened . "This is not a real marriage, Amanda. Don't mistake it for one."

The words sliced deeper than she expected. She nodded quickly, forcing her voice steady. "Of course."

He lingered for a moment, as if about to say something else, then turned away. "Dinner is at seven. Don't be late. The staff will prepare."

And then he was gone, leaving her alone in a golden cage.

Later that evening, Amanda stood before the mirror in a dress she hadn't chosen. The servant had laid it out for her- a deep emerald gown that clung to her curves, paired with diamond earrings that sparkled under the lights.

She barely recognized the woman staring back.

The stranger in the glass looked like Damon Steele's wife.

But inside, Amanda still felt like the broke, desperate girl from the caf'e.

When the clock struck seven, she descended the grand staircase.

Damon was already waiting in the dining hall, a glass her, unreadable, thought she swore she caught a flicker of approval.

"You clean up well," he said simply.

" Thank," she murmured, unsure how to take the compliment.

Dinner was served by silent staff-stesk, roasted vegetables, dishes she could barely pronounce. She eat in silence, aware of Damon's piercing eyes on her.

Finally, she set down her fork. " Do you ever smile?"

His brows lifted slightly. "Rarely. Why?"

"Because I think you 'd look less terrifying if you did."

For a moment, just a moment, she thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. But it vanished almost instantly, replaced by his usual cold expression.

"You'll learn quickly, Mrs. Steele," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

"I'm not a man who plays games. Whatever fantasies you have about this marriage-erase them . This is business. Nothing more."

Amanda swallowed hard, her heart pounding. She had agreed to this, she reminded herself. for her family. For survival.

But as she met his piercing gray eyes across the table, a shiver ran through her.

Because for the first time, she wondered if she had made a deal with the devil.

Amanda woke the next morning to soft sunlight streaming through the silk curtains. For a brief, blissful second, she thought it had all been a dream- the caf'e, Damon's cold gray eyes, the contract marriage. But then her gaze fell on the platinum band on her finger and reality slammed into her chest.

She is Mrs. Steele now.

Her stomach twisted at the thought. She had expected excitement, maybe all she felt was the heavy weight of something she couldn't yet name.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Mrs. Steele?" a gentle voice called .

Amanda sat up quickly. "Yes?"

A maid in a crisp uniform stepped inside, bowing slightly. "Mr. Steele request

your presence at breakfast in the east dining room."

East dining room?" Amanda muttered under her breath. How many dining rooms does one man need?

The maid smile politely but said nothing, simply waiting until Amanda followed.

The halls of Steele Manor seemed endless-gleaming marble floors, gilded frames with oil paintings, chandeliers dripping crystal like icicles.

It was beautiful, yes, but in the same way a museum was beautiful: cold, untouchable, not meant for someone like her.

When they finally reached the east dining room, Amanda stopped short.

The table stretched the length of the room, covered with enough food to feed an army- pancakes, omelets, pastries, fruit, meats she didn't even recognize. And at the head of it sat Damon Steele, his posture regal, a newspaper in one hand and a cup of black coffee in the other.

He didn't look up when she entered.

"Sit, " he said simply, his voice commanding without effort.

Amanda hesitated before sliding into the chair nearest to him.

A servant immediately placed a plate before her, but her appetite was gone.

"Do you always eat like this?" she asked, staring at the feast.

Damon's eyes flicked toward her, cool and unreadable. "I don't. This is for you. A welcome, if you will."

Her brows furrowed. "For me? Why?"

He folded his paper neatly, setting it aside.

"Because whether you realize it or not, you're part of this house now.

Appearances matter. If the staff sees you treated like anything less than Mrs. Steele, they'll question your here. That cannot happen."

Amanda blinked, surprised by his logic. He wasn't being generous- he was protecting his image. "So this is about appearances, "she said quietly.

"It's always about appearances, " he replied, sipping his coffee.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Amanda pushed food around her plate, sneaking glances at him.

Every movement he made was precise, controlled. He didn't waste words didn't smile, didn't soften. He was as untouchable as the marble around them. Finally, she set down her fork. " Why are you like this?"

His gaze sharpened. "Like what?"

"Cold. Detached. It's as if nothing matters to you."

Something flickered in his eyes, gone as quickly as it appeared.

"Because feelings make people weak. I don't have the luxury of weakness."

Amanda's chest tightened. She wanted to press further, but his expression warned her not to.

The rest of breakfast passed in silence.

Later that afternoon, Damon's world collided with hers again.

She had wandered into the library, marveling at the rows of books when she overheard voices drifting from the hallway.

"Are you certain about this?" a woman's voice purred, dripping with contempt. "She doesn't belong here, Damon. She'll embarrass you."

Amanda froze.

Damon's voice followed, low and sharp.

"My decision aren't yours to question, Cassandra."

Cassandra. The name sent a chill through Amanda. His ex?

Curiosity battled with fear as she crept closer, peeking around the doorway.

A striking woman stood before Damon-tall, flawless, with fiery red hair cascading down her back. She was dressed like she had stepped off a runway, evening inch of her oozing confidence.

Her eyes flicked toward the library, and she spotted Amanda instantly. A cruel smile curved her lips.

"So this is her,"Cassandra said stepping into the room. "The little nobody you married."

Amanda stiffened. "Excuse me?"

Cassandra's eyes roamed her from head to toe, dismissive. "Pathetic.

Did you pick her out of pity, Damon? Or was she the cheapest option?"

Before Amanda could respond, Damon moved .

His hand clamped around Cassandra's wrist, his voice cutting like steel.

"Enough." His gray eyes burned with fury.

"You will not speak to my wife that was."

Amanda's heart stuttered. My wife. The words shouldn't have meant anything- it was all a contract, after all- but hearing him say them, hearing the sharp possessiveness in his tone, sent an unfamiliar heat rushing through her.

Cassandra yanked her hand back, glaring. "This isn't over." With a toss of her hair, she stormed out. The silence,