CHAPTER-10
1038 Words
The wedding was nothing short of a royal affair—elegant, lavish, perfect on the outside.
But inside?
It was everything they never wanted.
The priest’s voice echoed through the grand marble hall, but neither Evelyn nor Lucian was truly listening.
She stood in a beautiful ivory gown, face emotionless, lips pressed into a thin line. Her fingers trembled slightly around the bouquet.
Across from her, Lucian looked like a living statue—tall, sharp, unreadable in his custom black tux. His jaw was clenched, eyes unreadable.
Their families sat in the front rows, smiling like this was a dream come true.
But for Evelyn? It felt like a funeral.
“Do you, Lucian Blackwood, take Evelyn Hart to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Lucian didn’t speak at first.
The pause was loud.
Evelyn’s breath caught. Was he going to say no? Was this finally it?
Then—
Lucian’s voice came out low. Rough. Controlled.
“I do.”
Her chest tightened.
The priest turned to her.
“Evelyn Hart, do you take Lucian Blackwood as your lawfully wedded husband?”
Her eyes met Lucian’s.
He didn’t look at her.
Not even once.
She hated him.
But she loved her parents too much to let them down.
So she whispered,
“…I do.”
The hall erupted in applause as the priest declared them husband and wife.
Lucian stepped forward. His movements were cold, robotic.
He lifted her veil and placed the softest, briefest kiss on her forehead—not her lips.
Not love. Just obligation.
Their eyes locked for a split second.
Evelyn’s voice was barely a whisper.
“We really did it.”
Lucian whispered back, flatly.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Blackwood.”
It wasn’t a beginning.
It was a war.
A marriage born from duty.
FIRST NIGHT:-
The door to the bedroom clicked shut behind her.
Evelyn stood in the center of the massive suite—decorated in soft golden lights, rose petals scattered across the bed, and two champagne glasses waiting on the table.
Romantic. Perfect.
Disgustingly ironic.
She sighed, adjusting the thin strap of the red silk nightgown that clung to her like it was stitched with temptation.
Mrs. Blackwood had chosen it.
Her new mother-in-law had smiled sweetly and handed it to her earlier with a wink.
> “Lucian might be cold, dear, but no man is immune to silk and confidence.”
Evelyn had wanted to scream. Instead, she said thank you.
And now here she was.
Standing in a stranger’s bedroom. Wearing red. Married to a man she hated.
The door creaked behind her.
She turned—heart in her throat.
Lucian stepped in, removing his watch, his tie already loose.
He froze when he saw her.
His eyes scanned her from head to toe. Once. Slowly. And then again.
His jaw clenched.
She saw it.
And something dark flickered in his gaze—like he couldn’t decide whether to argue or just devour her.
Evelyn crossed her arms.
“If you’re planning to say something snarky, make it quick. This thing itches.”
Lucian’s voice was hoarse, lower than usual.
“Where did you even get that?”
She lifted an eyebrow.
“Your mom gave it to me. Apparently, I’m supposed to seduce you or something.”
A muscle jumped in Lucian’s jaw.
“She what?”
Evelyn smirked, walking past him toward the bed.
“Relax. You’re not my type. I’m just doing this for the show.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs, the gown riding slightly higher than necessary. She knew he noticed.
Lucian looked away.
“You didn’t have to wear it.”
She shrugged.
“I like the color.”
Silence fell. Thick. Uncomfortable.
Evelyn looked at the bed.
Two pillows. One blanket. One massive bed.
Of course.
She muttered:
“Do you want the floor or should I?”
Lucian finally met her eyes again.
“We’re not children, Evelyn. Just… sleep. I won’t touch you.”
Her gaze flickered.
“I’m not afraid of you, Lucian.”
He stepped closer, voice low and unreadable.
“Maybe you should be.”
Her breath caught for a second—but she didn’t let him see it.
Evelyn lay down, pulling the blanket over herself, facing the opposite side.
“Goodnight, husband.”
Lucian stared at her back for a long moment.
Then turned off the light and lay beside her—far apart, not touching.
But neither of them slept.
Because both were thinking the same thing:
What the hell have we just done?
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Evelyn had drifted off hours ago—tucked under the blanket, her back facing Lucian, tension still lingering between them like a storm cloud.
Lucian lay on his side, wide awake.
Staring at the ceiling.
His mind wouldn’t shut off.
> What the hell just happened?
She looked… beautiful.
No. Don’t go there.
It’s just a forced marriage. A contract. A trap.
He sighed and turned to his side, facing away from her.
He needed sleep.
But somewhere between the tick of the clock and his chaotic thoughts…
He felt something.
Soft. Warm. Pressing into his back.
Arms wrapped around his waist—gently. Hesitantly.
He froze.
Evelyn.
She was hugging him.
In her sleep.
Her breath fanned lightly against the nape of his neck, her fingers curling under the fabric of his shirt like she belonged there.
Lucian's entire body went stiff.
“What the hell…” he whispered under his breath, eyes wide in the dark.
He slowly, slowly turned to glance behind him.
She was fast asleep, lips parted slightly, face innocent and peaceful—so unlike the sharp-tongued firecracker she usually was.
She let out the softest sigh and nuzzled closer to his chest.
Lucian’s heart?
Not beating. It was pounding.
> She’s asleep. She doesn’t know. It’s just a habit.
It doesn’t mean anything… right?
He could’ve pushed her away.
He should’ve.
But instead…
Lucian stayed still. Letting her hold him.
And for the first time in days, his eyes fluttered shut.
Because somewhere deep down—even if he’d never admit it—
He didn’t want her to let go.
- Writer
