chapter 5 the room we share
687 Words
The door loomed like a warning.
Anna stood frozen in front of the master bedroom, her suitcase by her side, her pulse pounding in her ears. Every instinct screamed at her to run—to grab her things and disappear into the night—but the memory of her father’s desperate face chained her in place.
This was the price. Her freedom for his salvation.
She tightened her grip on the suitcase handle, forcing her legs to move. The door creaked open, revealing a room so vast it felt like another world. Dark wood, sleek furniture, and a king-sized bed draped in charcoal silk.
Her stomach twisted. That bed might as well have been an execution table.
She set the suitcase down with trembling hands, trying to ignore the cold knot in her chest. Maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t come in tonight. Maybe he had other things to do.
The thought barely formed before the door clicked shut behind her.
Her breath caught.
David leaned against the frame, hands in his pockets, his gray eyes sweeping over her like a caress—and a challenge. “Unpacking already?” His voice was velvet and smoke, lazy yet sharp enough to cut through the silence.
She spun around, her pulse skittering. “I… I was just—”
“Moving in,” he finished for her, his lips curling in a slow smirk. “As agreed.”
Her throat tightened. “I thought maybe… I could have a separate room.”
His laugh was soft, humorless. “A separate room?” He pushed off the door, his steps measured, predatory. “Tell me, Anna… what part of wife do you think means separate?”
Heat crept up her neck. “This wasn’t supposed to—”
“To what?” He stopped in front of her, towering, his scent wrapping around her like a spell. “Be real?” His gaze pinned her, sharp and relentless. “You said yes to a marriage, Anna. Or did you think this was just a photo op?”
She swallowed hard, her pulse hammering. “I didn’t—”
“Didn’t think at all,” he murmured, circling her slowly, like a predator studying its prey. “But don’t worry. I’ll teach you what being Mrs. Scott really means.”
Her breath hitched. His words were soft, almost gentle, but the steel beneath them made her shiver.
When he came to stand in front of her again, his fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face, lingering just long enough to send a jolt down her spine.
“Relax,” he said, his lips curving into that maddening half-smile. “I’m not going to touch you.” He paused, leaning in close enough for his breath to ghost over her ear. “Not yet.”
The words landed like a spark in dry grass—dangerous, electrifying.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She forced herself to look up, to meet his eyes, but that was a mistake. Because what she saw there—darkness, hunger, something fierce and unyielding—made her knees weaken.
“Why are you doing this?” The question slipped out, raw and shaky.
His smile deepened, slow and wicked. “Because I can.”
And then, without another word, he walked past her, shrugging off his jacket as he headed for the massive bed. He sat on the edge, unbuttoning his cuffs with deliberate ease, his movements unhurried… intimate in their simplicity.
Anna’s breath caught as he stretched out across the bed, fully clothed, his gray eyes locking on hers like a dare.
“Get comfortable,” he said softly, patting the empty space beside him. “You’ll be sleeping here from now on.”
She froze, her blood roaring in her ears.
And then his voice dropped, dark and sinful, sealing her fate with a single whisper:
“Unless you’d rather sleep on top of me.”
The world tilted. Her heart stopped. And before she could summon a single word, his smirk deepened, as if he already knew her answer.
- Writer
