chapter 3 the first night
729 Words
Heels sank into the plush carpet as the maid led her down another endless hallway. Every corridor looked the same—gleaming floors, towering windows, art that probably cost more than her father’s entire company.
When the maid opened the door to her room, Anna almost laughed. The room wasn’t the right word. It was a suite—sprawling, opulent, with a bed large enough to swallow her whole and a chandelier glittering above.
“This will be your space, Mrs. Scott,” the maid said with a polite bow before slipping out, leaving Anna alone in the silence.
Mrs. Scott. The words scraped against her ears like broken glass.
She walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared out at the city lights. Somewhere out there was her old life—the life where she was free, where she didn’t feel like a pawn in a game she barely understood.
Now she was here. In his house. In his world.
Her fingers tightened around the window frame. What have I done?
A soft knock broke the silence. Her heart stuttered. “Come in,” she said, forcing her voice to stay steady.
The door opened, and there he was.
David leaned against the frame, hands in his pockets, looking like a king surveying his kingdom. His eyes swept over her slowly, making heat creep up her neck.
“Getting comfortable?” His tone was casual, but there was a dangerous undercurrent, a teasing lilt that made her stomach twist.
“I… yes,” she said, though her voice wavered. “The room is… beautiful.”
His lips curved in a smirk. “Only the best for my wife.”
The way he said wife sent a shiver down her spine.
She swallowed hard. “David, I… I wanted to thank you. For helping my father. For—”
He stepped inside, cutting the distance between them with slow, measured strides. “Don’t thank me too quickly, Anna,” he said softly. “You don’t even know what the price is yet.”
Her breath hitched. “What do you mean? We agreed—”
“Agreed?” He chuckled, low and mocking. “You agreed to marry me. But marriage, Anna… isn’t just a word on paper.”
Her pulse thundered in her ears. She took a step back instinctively, but the wall met her shoulders. His presence was overwhelming, his scent—clean, expensive, intoxicating—curling around her like smoke.
He braced one hand against the wall beside her head, leaning in just enough for his breath to brush her cheek. Her heart skittered wildly.
“Tell me,” he murmured, eyes glinting, “do you think you can play the dutiful wife? Smile for the cameras, hold my hand at dinners, warm my bed when I decide I want you there?”
Her throat went dry. Words stuck in her mouth like shards of glass.
“That’s what marriage is, isn’t it?” he teased, his tone light but edged with steel. “Or did you think this was going to be… platonic?”
Heat flared in her cheeks, equal parts anger and something else she refused to name. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she snapped, her voice trembling.
“Oh, absolutely,” he said smoothly, straightening but keeping his gaze locked on hers. “Watching you squirm is… entertaining.”
Her fists clenched at her sides. “Why? Is this your revenge?”
His smile was slow, wicked, and utterly unreadable. “Revenge?” He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Maybe. Maybe not. Does it matter?”
Before she could respond, he reached out, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a jolt racing through her veins.
“Get some rest,” he said softly, his voice suddenly calm, almost gentle—but his eyes burned with something deeper. “Tomorrow, we start playing the part of a perfect couple. And Anna…”
He paused, his lips so close to her ear that his next words made her entire body freeze.
“From now on, you don’t belong to yourself. You belong to me.”
And then he was gone, leaving her pressed against the wall, breathless, her heart hammering against her ribs as his words echoed in the silence.
- Writer
