Bound To The Cold Tycoon

2 : The Ice Cold Groom

The grand ballroom glittered under a hundred crystal chandeliers, each beam of light reflecting off polished marble floors and golden accents. Every guest in attendance had been carefully selected from New York’s elite—business magnates, politicians, and socialites dressed in diamonds and whispers.

It should have been a day of joy. For Amelia, it felt like a funeral.

The heavy silk gown clung to her as she descended the aisle, each step echoing like a countdown to her doom. Her veil shielded her expression, but it couldn’t hide the tremor in her hands. This isn’t a wedding, she thought bitterly, this is a transaction.

And at the far end of the aisle, the man waiting for her didn’t look like a groom. Alexander Stone stood tall and unyielding, his tailored black tuxedo sculpting his broad shoulders and powerful frame. His gaze was as frigid as steel, piercing her even through the veil. No warmth. No affection. Only possession.

She reached him, her breath shallow. The officiant’s voice droned on, but Amelia could hardly hear it over the thundering of her heart.

“Do you, Alexander Stone, take this woman—”

“I do,” Alexander said, his tone clipped, final, as though he were signing another merger contract.

“And do you, Amelia Hart—”

Her lips trembled. For a moment, silence stretched across the hall, guests shifting uncomfortably. Then, with the weight of her family’s ruin pressing down on her, Amelia forced the words out. “I… do.”

The officiant smiled, oblivious to the tension that hung like a blade in the air. “You may now kiss the bride.”

A ripple of anticipation swept through the crowd. Amelia’s stomach knotted. She barely had time to protest before Alexander pulled her close, his hand firm against her back. His lips brushed hers in the briefest contact—cold, impersonal, a performance for the world to see. It was over before it began, leaving her lips tingling with humiliation.

Applause erupted. Cameras flashed. To society, it was the union of power and beauty. To Amelia, it was chains tightening around her soul.

As they moved toward the reception hall, Amelia felt Alexander’s grip tighten on her arm. He bent low, his voice a whisper only she could hear. “From this moment, remember one thing—you belong to me. Defy me, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Her spine stiffened. She lifted her chin, refusing to let him see the storm raging inside her. “You can cage me, Alexander, but you’ll never own me.”

For the first time, his lips curved—not in amusement, but in challenge. “We’ll see, Mrs. Stone.”

And just like that, the battle lines were drawn.