The Devil’s Bride

Chapter 8: Clearing the forest

Ethan’s POV

The boardroom smelled exactly how I liked it: power, expensive leather, and the distinct, pathetic tang of fear-sweat coming from the weaker men sitting around the table.

I sat at the head of the mahogany table, my posture flawless,my fingers drumming a slow, steady rhythm on the polished wood surface. On the massive projector screen before us, satellite images displayed the Emerald City development site. Thousands of acres of ancient, dense forest filled the screen.The deep greens and stubborn, old-growth browns of the Emerald City site looked entirely out of place—a chaotic, unorganized mess of nature disrupting my plans.

A minor obstacle. A messy, stubborn inconvenience standing in the way of my multi-billion-dollar empire.

“Greenlight the deforestation phase,” I commanded, my voice slicing through the room's tension. “Bring the bulldozers in tomorrow at dawn. I will not tolerate any further delays.”

The air in the room cooled instantly. A few senior board members looked down at their tablets, terrified to make eye contact. One senior environmental consultant—a man whose contract I had personally inflated—cleared his throat, his leather chair creaking heavily.

“Sir, the local conservation groups have successfully fast-tracked a hearing for a temporary injunction. If we begin bulldozing before the court rules, the public relations fallout could damage our ESG rating. Perhaps a two-week freeze—”

I didn't interrupt him. I simply watched him speak, my expression entirely unreadable, letting him dig his own grave. When he finally petered out under the weight of my silence, I leaned back slightly.

“Mr. Davis,” I murmured, my tone deceptively smooth. “I pay you to navigate obstacles, not to bring them into my boardroom as excuses. Your inability to handle a handful of trust-fund activists suggests you have reached the ceiling of your competence.” I flicked my eyes toward my head of legal. “Terminate his contract. Revoke his building security access immediately.”

Davis turned a translucent shade of white. “Mr. Vance, please, I was only—”

“You are dismissed,” I cut him off, not even looking at him as security stepped into the room. I turned to the others in the room

“I don't pay you to worry about nature. I pay you to execute my orders. Burn the forest down. Level it. I want the concrete foundations poured by the end of the month. Anyone who has an issue with that can leave their badge on my desk today.”

Dead silence. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. They knew their place. They knew I was the god of this ecosystem.

As the meeting adjourned and the executives filed out like scolded schoolboys, their footsteps hushed by the thick plush carpet, I remained in my chair, alone in the dark with the satellite imagery. Those ancient, deeply rooted trees on the screen irritated me. They reminded me entirely too much of Moore. Quiet. Submissive on the surface, yet possessing a stubborn, hidden core that refused to snap completely, no matter how much violent pressure I brought down upon her.

I reached up to adjust my collar, but my fingers froze on the silk of my tie. Liliana’s cloying, overly sweet floral perfume still clung faintly to my lapel from last night, but beneath it, aggressively invading my senses, was that damn cheap lavender.

It had transferred onto my skin during the assault. A microscopic contaminant that my expensive soaps hadn't managed to wash away. I despised it. I despised anything I hadn't explicitly permitted to occupy space in my mind.

With a tight jaw, I pulled out my phone and opened the live surveillance feed of the estate. I told myself it was an audit—a man checking up on his property to ensure the staff was maintaining standard operating procedures.

The master bedroom camera showed Moore sitting on the circular velvet bench in the center of the closet. She was still wearing the cream cashmere dress I had selected. The soft, heavy knit draped over her slender dancer's frame, but her posture was entirely broken. Her shoulders were hunched, her knees drawn tightly against her chest as she stared blankly at the floor.

Her small, trembling fingers moved upward, tracing the dark, precise bruises I had stamped into the porcelain skin of her throat last night.

A dark, possessive heat flared low in my gut, catching me entirely off guard.

I watched the live feed, fascinated and infuriated by her. She looked ruined, a broken doll in expensive packaging, yet there was a lingering, tragic elegance to her grief that I hadn't managed to obliterate. She wasn't completely shattered. The roots were still there, clinging to the dirt.

The ancient forest on the projection screen and the fragile girl on my phone merged completely into a singular objective. Both were territory to be cleared. Both possessed a stubborn defiance that I would systematically rip out of the earth until there was nothing left but concrete and submission.

I could almost smell her through the glass screen. I could still feel the tight, agonizing heat of her body gripping me while she wept into the silk sheets, her voice breaking as she confessed her submission.

I closed the application sharply, my pulse racing, my body already hardening beneath my custom trousers.

This distraction was unacceptable. A man of my personality didn't get derailed by a transaction. She was a temporary legal tool, a contract to secure my family's empire. Yet, she was burrowing deep beneath my skin like a pathogen.

I stood up and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the sprawling skyline. The city glittered coldly beneath the afternoon sun. It was my city. Built on logic, power, and control.

The Emerald City project would rise from the ashes of that leveled forest. A monument to my legacy.

And Moore? I would finish dismantling her tonight. But I wouldn't do it on her territory. I would do it on mine, where she could see exactly how insignificant she was compared to the empire I commanded.

I pulled out my phone and pulled up the secure chat with Suzie.

Ethan: Have Connor bring Moore to my office at 7:00 PM sharp. Inform her she is to wear the black silk slip dress. No undergarments. I do not tolerate waiting.

A cold, razor-sharp smile curved my lips as I slipped the phone back into my pocket.