CHAPTER FOUR
1224 Words
ELLA.
Heat. Firm, unrelenting heat surrounded me, the gentle rise and fall of lungs against my cheek. I filled my lungs, inhaling deeply the smoky, loamy scent that was coming from the body under mine. The scent was heady, familiar—
Wait.
My eyes flew open.
The pale light of dawn came through the drapes, and the golden shadows fell across the large hotel room. My eyes went up, my breath stopping as I saw the sleeping body under me.
Grey Eyes from last night.
Oh God.
The night before flooded my mind, and my skin burned. The way he had moved on top of me, the way our bodies had moved to the same silent rhythm, breathless as one. He was a s*x machine, unrelenting, but me—I had been so wanton. So greedy.
The whole obsession about s*x finally made sense to me.
I swallowed hard and slowly unwound myself from him, not wanting to wake him. He looked a little less commanding presence in his sleep, his chest rising and falling steadily with deep breaths, his face peaceful in the morning light.
I snuck to the bathroom, shutting the door as quietly as possible before turning on the faucet. I splashed cold water on my face, gripping the sides of the sink as I stared in the mirror at my reflection.
My lips puffed, my face flushed, my body still humming from last night. Between my legs, a subtle soreness that was…good.
Biting my lip, I quickly dressed in last night's clothes. K glanced once more at the sleeping man before grabbing my coat and making my way out.
Breathless, I sprinted past the hotel lobby, my head still down. I didn't come up for air until I had emerged into the street, the morning breeze a cool comfort on burning cheeks. Then I hailed a cab for home.
——-
The house was still when I arrived home. Few staff moved around in hushed tones, preparing the house for the day, but no one glanced up to note my arrival.
Perfect.
I sprinted to my room, slamming the door shut, and then stripping out of my outfit before getting into the shower. The hot water did little to erase the thought of last night, and standing there, I realized—
I didn't regret it.
For once, I had done something for myself.
Wearing fresh clothes, I came down the stairs, my stomach growling.
I had barely made it into the dining room when Father’s voice cut through the air like a knife.
"Where were you last night?"
I stood frozen. He was at the head of the long dinner table, his eyes icy and sharp. His tablet lay untouched beside his plate.
I swallowed. "I—I spent the evening at a spa," I said in a rush. "A women's retreat. I just wanted a night by myself to relax."
His brows furrowed. "Your bodyguards lost you."
"They obviously got the facts wrong," I said lightly, forcing a thin smile onto my lips as I took my seat. "I was completely safe."
He scanned me for a moment before humming contentedly.
“Good. You should be well-rested for the wedding.”
I stilled. The wedding.
Fuck. I’d forgotten it was today. Dread curled in my stomach.
But then—
“It’s been postponed,” he continued. “It won’t be held today.”
My head snapped up. “What?” My heart leaped in my chest, hope blooming in my ribs.
“Why? What happened?” I asked, gripping the edge of the table.
He sighed, picking up his tablet from the table. "It'll be next weekend instead."
Hope deflated. "Oh."
Before I could think much about it, however, he went on, "You will no longer marry Armanetti."
I blinked. "What?"
"You will marry Archer Wolfe instead."
The name wasn't familiar. I crinkled my brows, trying to recall where I’d heard of it before.
“Why the change?” I asked hesitantly.
His gaze turned steely. “Don’t ask questions, Ella,” he snapped. “Just do what you’re told. This is what’s best for the family.”
I bit the inside of ny cheek, my hands curling into fists beneath the table.
“Tonight, we’re having dinner with him to discuss the marriage. Be ready by seven.”
With that, he went back to grabbing his tablet, brushing me off.
I stared at my plate, appetite gone.
Finally, he stood up and left the house, leaving me to my thoughts by myself.
I sighed, rubbing my temples before pushing away from my chair. I needed some fresh air.
Stepping outside onto the patio, I allowed the cool air to wash over me as I walked along the garden paths, trying to calm the storm churning in my head.
—-
Evening arrived too early.
Standing in front of the mirror, I adjusted my dress at the last minute—a deep sapphire blue, modest but not flashy, with a demure neckline and a nipped-in waist that showed off my curves. Paired with high heels, I looked the very picture of a sophisticated daughter-of-a-powerful-man.
I spritzed herself with perfume, pausing a moment to inhale the light floral scent before making my way downstairs.
My father was already seated in the car. I slipped in to sit beside him, expression inscrutable as the driver drove away from the estate.
The restaurant, L'Atelier, was just as posh as I had expected. There was warm golden light inside, and softly playing music in the background. Crystal chandeliers adorned the ceiling, and waiters moved between tables in crisp white tablecloths.
We were ushered to a secluded area, where a table had been booked for us.
Father had wine brought, but when I took a few sips from it, he scowled.
"Drink water, Ella," he snapped. "Like a lady."
Blushes rose to my cheeks, and I murmured an apology, putting aside the wine.
A moment later, his expression shifted. His gaze moved past me, his lips curving into a practiced pleased smile as he rose to his feet.
“Glad you’re finally here, Mr. Wolfe.”
I inhaled deeply and got up then turned.
The breath in my lungs stilled.
Familiar grey eyes met mine.
The same ones I’d stared into just last night.
The same ones I’d seen with such fire as he moved on top of me, inside of me.
Archer Wolfe.
Oh God.
I felt sick to my stomach.
My one-stand. The man who had brought me to o****m after o****m… my to be husband? My fiancé?
My father's words barely registered. "Ella, this is Archer Wolfe."
My heart pounded so hard that I thought they could hear it.
Forcing trembling legs to stay upright with sheer willpower, I stepped forward, wearing the most demure face possible.
Stretching out my shaky hand to him, I said in a soft voice, "Hello, Mr. Wolfe."
He did not react for a second.
Then his large hand closed around mine, warm, solid and familiar. Rather than shaking it, he leaned at the waist, his lips touching softly over my knuckles.
Shivers skittered down my spine.
His eyes met mine, inscrutable, but there was something behind them—something assessing and dark.
"Hello, Ella," he said lowly.
My stomach flipped.
I was so screwed.
- Writer
