Bound by Scandal

The Reception

The ballroom of The Grand Meridian was a whirlwind of gold and crystal, the chandeliers casting shimmering reflections across the marble floor. Ava stood beside Liam at the head table, her fingers wrapped tightly around the stem of her champagne flute. The room buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses, the air thick with the scent of roses and expensive perfume. It was perfect. It was suffocating.

Liam’s hand found the small of her back, his touch a brand through the thin fabric of her dress. “You’re tense,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear.

Ava didn’t look at him. “I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

She finally turned, meeting his gaze. His gray eyes were dark, unreadable, the faint smirk on his lips sending a jolt through her. “I don’t need you to tell me how I feel.”

Liam’s fingers tightened on her waist, pulling her closer. “No. But you need me to remind you.”

Ava’s breath hitched. “Of what?”

“That you’re mine.”

The word hung between them, heavy and irreversible. Ava’s pulse spiked, her gaze dropping to his mouth. She wanted to argue. To tell him she wasn’t his to command.

But the way he looked at her—like she was the only thing in the world worth having—made her stomach twist.

The first dance was a torture of slow, sinful movements.

Liam led her to the center of the floor, his hand warm on her waist, his fingers tangled in hers. The band played a slow, romantic melody, the kind of song that promised forever. Ava’s chest tightened as Liam pulled her close, his body a wall of heat against hers.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.

Ava’s fingers curled into his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Liam’s thumb traced slow circles on her waist, sending a jolt through her. “You’re welcome.”

Ava wanted to pull away. Wanted to tell him to stop touching her, stop looking at her like she was his.

But she didn’t.

Because the truth was, she didn’t want him to stop.

The toasts began after dinner, a parade of well-wishes and hollow congratulations. Ava sat stiffly beside Liam, her smile fixed in place as his father, Richard, stood to speak.

“To Liam and Ava,” he said, his voice booming across the room. “May your marriage be as strong and successful as the Carter name.”

Ava’s fingers tightened around her fork. Liam’s hand found hers beneath the table, his fingers squeezing gently. A warning. A promise.

She didn’t look at him.

Couldn’t.

Because the truth was, she wasn’t sure she could handle the way he looked at her.

Like she was his.

Like she was everything.

The cake was cut, the bouquet tossed, the garter removed with a flourish that made Ava’s cheeks burn. The night blurred into a haze of laughter and music, the guests a sea of smiling faces and hollow words.

Ava excused herself to the bathroom, her heels clicking against the marble floor. She leaned against the sink, her breath coming fast, her reflection staring back at her in the mirror. She looked like a bride. She looked like a stranger.

The door swung open, and Eleanor Carter stepped inside. Her gaze flicked to Ava’s face, her expression carefully blank. “You’re handling this well.”

Ava met her gaze in the mirror, her voice steady. “I don’t have a choice.”

Eleanor’s smile was sharp. “There’s always a choice, dear.”

Ava’s fingers tightened around the edge of the sink. “Not for me.”

Eleanor stepped closer, her voice dropping to a murmur. “You’re stronger than you think, Ava. Don’t let him break you.”

Ava’s chest tightened. “I won’t.”

Eleanor’s gaze softened—just slightly. “Good.”

She turned, striding out of the bathroom with the confidence of a woman who knew she was always in control.

Ava exhaled, slow and shaky.

Because the truth was, she wasn’t sure she could keep her promise.

Not when Liam Carter was determined to make her his.

The reception wound down, the guests trickling out with polite goodbyes and hollow well-wishes. Ava stood beside Liam as the last of them filed out, her body humming with exhaustion and something darker, something hungrier.

Liam’s hand found hers, his fingers tangling in hers. “Ready to go home?”

Ava met his gaze, her voice steady. “Yes.”

Liam’s smirk was slow, dangerous. “Good.”

He led her out of the ballroom, his hand warm on her waist, his touch a brand. The car waited outside, the engine purring softly. Liam opened the door, helping her inside before sliding in beside her.

Ava’s pulse spiked as the car pulled away, the city lights blurring past the window. She could feel Liam’s gaze on her, heavy and unrelenting. But she didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.

Because the truth was, she wasn’t sure she could handle the way he looked at her.

Like she was his.

Like she was everything.