Captivating The Impostor Bride

Start Talking

Ashton Pov

Her nightgown was twisted movements earlier, the hem riding up her thighs to reveal more skin than I should have allowed myself to notice. My jaw tightened, and I forced myself to focus, but my hand betrayed me. It moved without thought, my fingers brushing lightly against the curve of her knee.

Her breath hitched, her body going rigid, but she didn’t pull away.

“Now,” I said, my voice rough. My gaze stayed fixed on the space between us, refusing to meet her eyes. “You’re going to tell me everything. No lies, no games. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling but clear.

“Good.” My tone was clipped, sharp. “Because if you lie to me, if you try to be clever, I’ll know. And you won’t like what happens when I do. Understand?”

She nodded, her wide eyes locked on me. “Yes,” she repeated, barely audible.

I exhaled. “Start talking. Who are you really, and what the hell were you doing at that warehouse?”

She hesitated, and swallowed the lump in her throat. “My name is Rosella,” she began cautiously. “I told you that before. I wasn’t lying about that.”

I raised an eyebrow but stayed silent.

“I’m just... I’m just a regular person,” she continued, her words shaky but gaining strength. “Or at least I was, before all this. Before I met you.”

I let out a low, humorless laugh. “A regular person doesn’t end up in a situation like this. Try again.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she pressed on. “I was a college student. Barely making it. I was behind on rent, out of money, and desperate. I didn’t know what else to do. Then a friend—Elena—told me about a way to make quick cash. She said it was easy. Just one job.”

“And you believed her?” I leaned in slightly, my tone icy.

“I didn’t know!” she exclaimed, her voice rising before she caught herself. “I didn’t know what it really was. She said it wasn’t dangerous, that she’d done it before. She told me no one would get hurt. I was stupid. I didn’t ask questions.”

Her voice cracked, and for a moment, I thought she might break down again. Instead, she steeled herself, meeting my gaze. “I didn’t even know what was in the bag. She said it was a delivery. I thought...” She trailed off, her eyes flicking away. “I thought it was nothing.”

I find my attention constantly pulled back to her, despite my scattered thoughts, my restless mind. She’s always been the distraction I crave, the one escape that feels real. Not from the world, not from the noise, but from my own thoughts. I don’t need explanations or deep reflections. What I need most right now is to forget. And she’s the only thing that offers that. She’s the one release, the one thing that makes the constant ache bearable. Rosella—Aly, she calls herself now—is the doorway to the place where I can finally lose myself, even if just for a moment.

Her skin was soft and warm under my touch. Her dress clings to her like liquid, hugging every curve. When I run my fingers over her chest, tracing the delicate shape of her body, I feel the sharp intake of her breath. It stirs something dark inside me. My voice breaks the silence, low and almost mocking.

"Never once thought to tell me the truth?" I ask, my tone more taunting than I intended. "That you just went there for a little quick cash 'cause some friend mentioned it?"

She hesitates before answering, her voice shaky. "Would you have believed me?"

I don’t answer right away, but I can see it in her eyes. She’s testing me. But my response comes, coldly. "It doesn’t matter. You never gave me the chance to decide."

"You were choking the life out of me. I told you I didn’t know what was in that package, but you wouldn’t listen. You just kept seeing what you wanted to see. Do I have any reason to believe you'd suddenly be reasonable now?" She responded sharply

My hand tightened around her, a silent reminder of who holds the power here. I don’t answer immediately, just watching the way she stiffens, the tension in her rising. Her voice comes low, defiant. "Did I ask for your reprimands?" she spits, but I hear the tremor. She’s afraid—afraid of me, of what I might do.

"You seem to have forgotten where you are. Let me remind you."

Her body shivers under my touch, but she speaks up, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m not forgetting anything," she says, her words betraying the fear she tries to hide.

I can feel it. She’s terrified. Once, her world was consumed with school, with the future, with graduation. But now? Has she even thought about any of that? I wonder, does she know how easily things can change? How quickly everything she thought she had can be ripped away? I’ve seen it. I know what it’s like. The vows I made that day changed everything. And she’s no different.

There’s a part of me that know I shouldn’t want her, that she doesn’t deserve to explain herself, that she doesn’t deserve to even be breathing. But I can’t help it. She’s a weakness. A temptation I shouldn’t indulge in. I fight to keep my control intact, but it’s slipping—slipping with every moment I’m near her.

Suddenly, I stand up, frustrated, and conflicted. I need space, but I don’t think I want to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Her voice catches me off guard, a question I wasn’t expecting, not from her.

I raise an eyebrow, as surprised as she is. "Since when is that any of your business?"

Her face flushes, a soft pink creeping into her cheeks, and she looks away quickly. Her eyes dart out the window, then fall to the silk blanket on the bed. "I was just wondering… I haven’t really seen you since we got here."

I can’t help but laugh, bitter and sharp, the sound cutting through the heavy silence. "Is my devoted wife missing me now?" My words are thick with sarcasm, as though the very idea is absurd. But something in me stirs. A flicker of confusion that I can’t push away.

"Forget it," she mutters, folding her arms across her chest, like she’s trying to shield herself.

I watch her for a long time, my eyes cold, studying her every move. "Is there something you wanted to discuss?" I lean against the doorframe, almost too willing to entertain the idea. Maybe I’m searching for an excuse to stay, to watch her just a little longer. The way the sunlight stretches across her face. The temptation to touch her is almost too much.

"No… not really," she says, her voice small, unsure. A slight shrug. "I just thought… maybe you’d want someone around after..."

The air feels heavy, and I feel my pulse quicken. After everything—after the funeral, after burying my grandfather—did she really think I’d want her close? I don’t trust her. She’s manipulating me, trying to pull me back into her silly web of lies, twisting my emotions again.

"After the funeral?" I can barely get the words out, disbelief seeping into my voice. "After burying my grandfather?"

"Yes." She answers, and I see a softness in her expression. "You don’t have to be alone. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere."

Her words linger, gnawing at the edge of my resolve. She’s right. She’s not going anywhere.

"You’re right," I say, my voice colder now, the walls I’ve built rising back up. "You’re not going anywhere."

"I’m not the one who needs company," I say, my words sharp, making sure she knows her place. She flinches, and I feel a dark satisfaction. She needs reminding of where she stands.

Every second I spend with her chips away at the walls I’ve carefully constructed. It’s dangerous, this feeling that builds inside me whenever we’re close. The last thing I need is to let it consume me.

Without another word, I walked out, leaving her behind. I lock the door. It barely holds back the urge to turn around, to go back, to feel her body pressed against mine. But for now, I resist.

I don’t know what to do with her anymore, with the memory of how good it feels to be inside her, to forget everything but the two of us. That memory haunts me, a temptation I can’t shake. No matter how hard I try, I can’t escape it.