The Sin He Couldn't Resist

The green light on the door lock blinked once. Ophelia stared at it, her fingers tightening around the cream colored envelope in her hand. Tonight, she was supposed to meet the man she had been ordered to marry. Instead of feeling like a bride, she felt like a prisoner walking toward her sentence. She had spent the entire ride to the Imperial Grand Hotel fighting back tears. She'd made it through the lobby. She'd made it into the elevator but somewhere between the twenty seventh and twenty eighth floors, the tears had finally won. Her cheek still burned from Marcus's hand. Every time she swallowed, she could taste the faint tang of blood where her teeth had cut the inside of her mouth. She touched her cheek briefly, then dropped her hand. She didn't want to think about it. Thinking about Marcus only made the tears come faster. “Don't cry.” Ophelia forced herself to take a breath before stepping inside and closing the door behind her. The cream colored envelope trembled in her hand. Inside was the marriage contract her father had ordered her to sign…A single document that could decide the rest of her life. “Just be a good girl.”Her father's voice came back to her, cold and impatient. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a shaky breath. She had spent twenty-three years being told what she was supposed to do. What she was supposed to wear. How she was supposed to speak. Who she was supposed to smile at. She crossed the enormous bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. She simply stared at the contract. “Edmund Hawthorne.” The name alone made her stomach twist. She had never met him. Her father had given her almost no information beyond the man's age, wealth, and family name. Apparently, none of those things mattered enough to deserve an explanation. “You'll be grateful once you understand what this marriage will do for us,” Marcus had said. Ophelia wiped beneath her eye before another tear could fall, she refused to give Marcus the satisfaction of breaking her. Even if he wasn't here to see it. She lasted three seconds and then her shoulders shook. Ophelia covered her face with both hands and finally let herself cry. The soft chime of the elevator sounded beyond the suite. Ophelia's hands dropped immediately, her breath caught. Someone was coming. Footsteps approached. Her entire body went rigid. Edmund? She wiped the last of her tears from her cheeks and stood. The door opened. A man stepped inside. He was tall…far taller than she'd expected with broad shoulders filling out a dark suit. His tie hung loose around his neck, and several strands of black hair had fallen across his forehead. He looked nothing like the old, intimidating man she'd spent the entire evening imagining. Charles closed the door behind him. His gaze moved over the room before settling on the woman standing beside the bed. A slow smile touched his mouth. “So,” he said, his voice low and slightly rough. “Alex finally decided to be useful.” Ophelia stared at him, she had no idea who Alex was. She literally flinched at the sound of his voice. Charles noticed and then the smile disappeared from his face. This wasn't the reaction he'd expected. He'd expected someone confident, someone who knew exactly why she was here. Instead, the woman in front of him looked as though she might cry if he raised his voice. “...Name?” he asked quietly, his voice softening. Ophelia stared at him. This was Edmund Hawthorne? Her father had told her almost nothing about the man except that he was wealthy and powerful. She'd spent the entire evening imagining someone old and severe. Not this…The man standing before her looked nothing like the monster she'd pictured. He was young, tall, broad shouldered and unfairly handsome. She swallowed hard, trying to find her voice. “I…” Trembling, she held out the rolled cream-colored document. “This… was given to me to hand to my husband.”“I…” Her fingers tightened around the envelope. “This was given to me for my husband.” Charles's brows lifted. “Your husband?” Charles took the envelope from her. He glanced at it once before placing it on the bedside table. “I’d go through it later.” His attention returned to her. “You seem nervous. Are you scared of me?” Ophelia looked into his eyes, “I don't even know you, sir.” For a moment, Charles said nothing but one corner of his mouth lifted. “Fair enough.” Charles remained standing for a moment. Then he moved to the armchair opposite her instead of sitting beside her. Ophelia hadn't realized how much she'd been bracing herself until her shoulders finally relaxed. Charles's gaze settled on the red mark across her cheek. His expression changed. “Who did that?” “It's… a long story.” His answer came without hesitation. “You don't owe me an explanation.” She looked back up, surprised. Nobody had ever cared enough to ask, let alone offer her a way out of explaining. A tiny, fragile smile touched her lips. “Thank you.” Something softened in Charles's face when she smiled. He hesitated before lifting his hand. When Ophelia didn't move away, he gently brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered near her cheek and he looked at her for a long moment, as if giving her enough time to pull away. She didn't. He leaned closer until their foreheads touched, neither of them spoke and then Ophelia closed the remaining distance. Their lips met. The kiss was soft at first and that night, Ophelia stopped thinking about her father, the contract, and the man she was supposed to marry. Maybe getting married isn’t as bad as she had imagined. Charles pulled her gently against him. Ophelia hesitated for only a moment before letting herself sink into his embrace. Their clothes slowly fell to the ground and her underwear right in his pocket. The Morning After The harsh, bright morning light cut through the sheer curtains, directly at Ophelia’s nakedness. She turned her head. Charles was still asleep beside her. Without the intensity in his eyes, he looked younger, almost peaceful. Ophelia stared at him for a moment before a small smile touched her lips. She smiled faintly. “So this is what my husband is going to look like,” she whispered. The thought alone didn't frighten her anymore. If this gentle, protective man was Edmund Hawthorne, perhaps her marriage wouldn't be a prison after all. Carefully, so as not to wake him, she slipped her arm out from under the covers and reached for her phone on the nightstand. The moment the screen flashed to life, her smile died. 37 Missed Calls. 22 Unread Messages. Her stomach dropped. She unlocked the phone and opened the messages from her father first. Marcus: Where the hell are you? Marcus: Edmund is furious. Why aren't you in your fiancé's suite? Room 2808! Ophelia stopped breathing. Room 2808? Her eyes moved slowly around the room and her gaze landed on the door. She stared at the number she'd entered last night…2806 Her heart stopped as she looked toward the door again and then at the phone….2808 She had walked into the wrong room. She hadn't spent the night with Edmund Hawthorne, she'd spent it with a complete stranger. Her fingers shook as she opened Helen's messages. Helen: So? Did you finally meet Edmund? Helen: Tell me you're not actually going to marry that old man.lol. Helen: I swear, Ophelia, you have the worst luck. Ophelia's eyes widened. Old man? She slowly turned toward the sleeping man beside her. She turned her head slowly, her eyes wide with mounting horror as she looked at the sleeping man beside her. He was absolutely not Edmund Hawthorne. “Oh my God…” she whimpered, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. “I… I went into the wrong room.” She scrambled out of the bed, her legs shaking so violently she could barely stand. She began gathering her clothes off the floor with clumsy movements. As she rushed toward the writing desk to grab her purse, her eyes caught on a sleek leather wallet resting beside a stack of documents. Right next to it sat a stark black, embossed business card. With a shaking hand, she picked it up. Charles Montgomery CEO, Montgomery Global Holdings The name stole the remaining air from her lungs. Charles Montgomery. The untouchable billionaire. The man Helen had spent months obsessing over. The man her family had practically begged to notice them last night and she had just spent the night in his bed. Behind her, the sheets rustled as Charles shifted, a low, sleepy groan escaping his lips. Charles stirred. Her heart slammed against her ribs, she looked at the door and then at the clothes scattered across the floor. Then the business card still clutched in her trembling hand. Charles Montgomery. She had spent the night with the wrong man and if he woke up before she escaped, she couldn’t tell what would happen next.