Dumping Scumbag Boyfriend For Mr Moore

Only One Bed

“Where are we?” Sarah asked, looking up through the windshield at the towering glass structure that seemed to pierce the evening sky.

The SUV entered into the private underground garage of the coastal skyscraper, its headlights sweeping across rows of high-end sports cars before coming to a complete stop.

“My private residence,” Nathan said, killing the engine of the car. “The apartment next to yours was just a convenient place to stay while I cleared some business. This… this is home.”

Sarah’s eyes widened as they stepped into a private, biometric elevator that swept them straight to the top floor. The ride was silent and swift.

The penthouse was breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls offered a sweeping, panoramic view of the vast, sparkling ocean under the twilight sky. Modern, minimalist furniture lined the main living space, but what caught her attention was the sheer scale of luxury.

“Nathan…” Sarah turned to him, thoroughly overwhelmed as she held her breath. “You told me you were just a neighbor!”

Nathan tossed his car keys onto a black marble console, unbuttoning his suit jacket and letting it slide effortlessly off his broad shoulders. He unzipped his cufflinks, setting them beside the keys, and slowly rolled up his crisp white shirt sleeves to reveal his muscular forearms.

“I was your neighbor,” Nathan said, walking toward her with slow, deliberate steps that echoed softly against the polished floors. “Now I’m your husband. Does the upgrade displease you?”

“No, but—”

“No buts,” Nathan interrupted softly. He stopped right in front of her, his tall frame towering over her small figure, trapping her completely in his magnetic pull.

Before Sarah could ask another question, a middle-aged woman in a crisp chef’s uniform stepped out from the secondary kitchen wing, carrying a silver tray. She bowed respectfully toward Nathan and Sarah, placing several covered crystal dishes on the glass dining table overlooking the water.

“Good evening, Mr. Moore. Good evening, Mrs. Moore,” the chef said politely. “Dinner has been served as requested. I will take my leave now.”

“Thank you, Martha. You may go for the night,” Nathan replied smoothly.

Once the staff had quietly exited through the private service entrance, leaving the massive penthouse in total silence, Nathan pulled out a heavy leather chair for Sarah.

“Sit,” Nathan murmured, his broad hand lingering on the small of her back, sending a sudden wave of heat straight through the thin silk of her ivory dress. “You haven't eaten a proper meal since yesterday.”

As Nathan unveiled the dishes, exquisite pan-seared steak, fresh oysters, and delicate French pastries, Sarah’s stomach let out a loud, traitorous growl.

Mortified, her cheeks flushed bright red. She quickly cleared her throat and looked away, pretending to study the sweeping layout of the sprawling main hall just to avoid his eyes.

Nathan paused, a faint, dangerous smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his dark eyes glinted in amusement. He didn't say a word to call her out, simply sliding the plate of steak closer to her side of the table.

“Nathan,” Sarah began, taking a small sip of ice water to steady her trembling hands. “Where is my room? Where should I put my personal things?”

Nathan, who was casually slicing a piece of steak on his plate, paused. He raised his dark eyes, locking his gaze onto hers with a look of calm, dangerous amusement.

“Your room?” Nathan repeated smoothly.

“Yes,” Sarah said, frowning slightly as she gestured toward the long hallway behind them. “This place is massive. Which guest room am I staying in?”

In his mind, Nathan let out a low, wicked laugh. Guest room? Does she really think I brought her to my private estate to sleep across the hall like a visitor?

On the surface, Nathan kept his face impassive, a subtle, possessive smirk touching the corners of his lips.

“There are no guest rooms available, Mrs. Moore,” Nathan said, his voice deep, smooth, and unhurried. “This penthouse was built with one master suite.”

Sarah froze, her silver fork hovering in mid-air. “What? A penthouse this large only has one bedroom?”

“It has one bed,” Nathan corrected calmly, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his red wine. “And since we signed a legal marriage contract an hour ago, that is where my wife sleeps.”

Sarah’s cheeks flushed a violent crimson. “Nathan! We need to maintain some boundaries!”

Nathan set his wine glass down with a soft click against the marble table. He stood up slowly, his broad, imposing frame blocking out the ambient light of the city below. He walked around the long dining table, stopping right behind her chair.

He leaned down, his broad chest pressing firmly against her back, his arms coming around her to grip the edge of the table, trapping her completely in his embrace.

“Boundaries?” Nathan whispered against the shell of her ear, his warm breath causing a deep shiver to run straight down her spine. “I told you at the registry, Sarah. I don't do fake marriages. We sleep in the same bed, and you belong to me.”

Sarah’s breath hitched in her throat, her hands tightly clutching her napkin under the table. “Nathan… you’ve already eaten your dinner…”

Nathan lowered his head, his lips pressing a slow, firm, and possessive kiss against the curve of her neck, right over her beating pulse. Sarah let out a soft, helpless gasp, her head tilting back against his shoulder.

“I’ve eaten dinner, yes,” Nathan rasped against her skin, his hands moving to cup her waist, pulling her up out of the chair and turning her around to face him. His dark eyes burned with an unbridled, possessive hunger that made her knees feel weak. “But I haven't had my fill of my wife yet.”

Sarah looked into his dark, burning eyes, her heart hammering against her ribs. She felt the heavy thud of his heart against hers.

“Nathan…” she whispered, her hands instinctively coming up to rest against his broad shoulders.