The Billionaire's Unwanted Bride

CHAPTE 5

I wanted to push him away.

Lucas’ arms encircle my waist, his heat seeping into my side like some sort of branding. I clenched my teeth, my palms burning to push him away, to tell him I wasn’t his property.

Except I remembered where we were, though.

The wedding reception.

Hundreds of guests. Eyes watching. Cameras flashing.

I was forced to play the part of the dutiful wife.

I breathed slowly and smiled painfully through my lips. “You don’t own me, Lucas.”

His fingers dug into my waist, enough to convey a clear message. “That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.”

I wanted to scream.

The tension was broken when Damon cleared his throat. “Well, I will leave you two love birds to it.” There was a chuckle in his voice, but another register too — something inscrutable. He glanced at me once more, and then he retreated into the heart of the crowd.

Lucas didn’t move.

He wrapped around me, breath hot in my ear. “You don’t listen, do you?”

I turned just a little, my heart pounding. “And you don’t scare me, Lucas.”

His dark eyes glinted. “I should.”

My pulse spiked.

He was playing with me. Testing me. To test me on how far I’d bend before I broke.

I refused to break.

Not tonight.

Not for him.

“Let me go,” I gritted out.

For a moment, I thought he was going to refuse. That he’d drag this war of wills out until I was out of the fight.

But to my surprise, he did.

He released his clasp but took a half step back, and the one-up, smart, smug look was still present in his eyes.

“Smile for the cameras,” he said kindly. “Or do you want them to see how miserable you are already?”

The sleek wording fizzed on my tongue and I swallowed. Instead, I did as he suggested and put the most convincing fake smile I could manage on my face.

He smirked. “That’s my good girl.”

Ever since those words tightened in my stomach, I hated them.

As I was about to reply, a voice interjected. “Time for the first dance.”

I glanced up just as a wedding planner waved us to the dance floor.

Panic tightened in my chest.

I didn’t want to dance with Lucas. I didn’t want him to ever touch me again.

But I didn’t have a choice.

Not if I wanted to keep up the pretense.

Lucas extended a hand. “Shall we?”

I hesitated half a heartbeat, then threaded my fingers through his.

His hand clasped mine at once, leading me to the middle of the ballroom. The music started, soft and slow, curling around us like a choking blanket.

There was no time to prepare for the way Lucas shoved me harder against him.

His arm settled around my waist, his touch possessive, authoritative.

I went tense, breathing almost catching.

His lips brushed my ear. “Relax, sweetheart. This is just a dance.”

Just a dance.

So why did it feel like so much more?

The scent of his cologne, the manliness of his frame, the way his fingertips dug into my lower back: Everything about this moment felt unbearably intimate.

I hated it.

I resented the way my body reacted, my heart racing, skin prickling where he touched me.

I tried to retract, to remove myself, but Lucas wouldn’t let me.

His grip tightened. “Where the f**k do you think you’re going?”

I shot him a glare. “I need space to breathe.”

He smiled, his fingers remaining slowly a little farther down my back. “Then breathe, Elara.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, holding my skin still.

The dance felt like it took forever, and also a tiny fraction of time.

And then, toward the end of the song, Lucas leaned in.

Too close.

His breath fluttered against my lips.

My pulse spiked. “Don’t.”

A diabolical smile crept across his lips. “Don’t what?”

I clenched my jaw. “Don’t kiss me.”

His dark eyes glimmered with amusement. “Why not?”

I hated not having an answer as well.

I hated that part of me was afraid that deep down I wouldn’t have held back if he had.

Lucas seemed to know it too.

His smile spread wider, but surprisingly, he didn’t bridge the gap.” Instead, he said gently, “Not yet, sweetheart.”

And just like that, the song was finished.

The guests clapped their hands, the moment broken.

Lucas released me, though not before he trailed his fingers down my arm in a way that was so light yet possessive that unwanted shivers raced up my spine.

I retreated, gasping, chest pumping up and down.

Lucas only chuckled. “This is going to be fun.”

I swallowed hard.

For him, maybe.

But for me?

That was only the beginning of my nightmare.

I needed to get out of here.

A familiar smirk still rested heavy against my skin; the weight of Lucas’s words still ricocheted in my mind. This is going to be fun.

Fun for him. Hell for me.

As the dance ended, I turned my face, just doing my best to hold my head high while wandering through the clusters of guests. I needed space. I needed air.

I pushed through a side door and stepped into the dim hallway. I held a palm to my chest, breaths sharp and shallow, heart racing in morning air.

This was not the life I envisioned for myself.

I had dreams. A future. Freedom.

And now?

I was in a marriage to the one man from my past I had tried to escape.

I let out a bitter laugh with my hate on my lips. The universe had a sick sense of humor.

“You’re running already?”

My body stiffened.

That voice.

Dark. Smooth. Infuriatingly amused.

Slowly pivoting, I found Lucas casually leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, eyes on me, that same arrogant smirk on his face.

“I wasn’t running,” I said, almost defiantly, lifting my chin. “I just needed some air.”

He pushed himself off the wall and walked slowly and deliberately toward me. “Lying already, sweetheart?”

I scowled. “Don’t call me that.”

His eyes narrowed just a bit, but the smirk didn’t move. “How about Mrs. Thompson instead?”

The way he said it — like he was testing the limits of how far he could push me before I broke — made me shiver in frustration.

I folded my arms. “I just would like you to leave me alone.”

Lucas took another step forward. “And yet, here we are.”

I swallowed, flattening my back against the cold wall as he moved in closer. His scent surrounded me fresh, clean, heady.

Damn him.

He tilted his head as if I were some equation he was trying to solve. “You used to look at me differently, you know.

My stomach twisted. “I was a kid. I didn’t know better.”

He hummed, as if chewing on the words. “And now?”

I stared him down, refusing to relent. “Now I know what sort of man you are.”

Lucas’s smile vanished; his palm lifted just enough to touch the side of my jaw.

I jerked away.

Something unreadable passed behind his eyes, and then he sighed. You can resist this all you want, Elara. But this marriage? This deal? And it is coming whether you want it or not.”

I clenched my fists. “You thought you could just control me? That I’ll just be the dutiful wife?”

His smirk widened. “Oh, sweetheart. I don’t think, I know.”

My breath hitched.

I wanted to slap him.

I wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.

But mostly, I wanted to be his proof that he was wrong.

So I stared back at him, steadiness in my voice. “We’ll see about that.”

Lucas chuckled, stepped back. “I look forward to it.”

And with that, he walked away, Holland burning and heart racing, blood boiling.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.