Chapter Nine: The Space Between Fire and Frost

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• The Billionaire’s Reluctant Bride   Chapter Nine: The Space Between Fire and Frost

  Elena“Elena.” His voice cut through the night like a blade—sharp, steady, with the softest undercurrent of tension. I turned from the edge of the alley, heart still pounding from the chase, my breath caught in my throat.He stood a few paces away, framed by the golden glow of the streetlamp, his suit jacket fluttering lightly in the wind. There was a frown etched into the lines of his brow, a rare crack in that sculpted composure of his.“What are you doing out here?” he asked, stepping closer. “It’s freezing.”“I needed air,” I lied quickly, fingers curling around the edge of my veil. “Too many people. Too much noise.”His gaze held mine for a beat longer than necessary. He didn’t believe me, not fully, but he didn’t press. Instead, he removed his jacket and wrapped it around my bare shoulders. The fabric was warm from his body, expensive, heavy.“Come inside.”I didn’t argue. The elevator ride was silent. The kind of silence that buzzed.Back in the penthouse, the bridal suite was

• The Billionaire’s Reluctant Bride   Chapter Eight: A Glass Smile

  ElenaWhen we returned to the penthouse that evening, the sky was painted in soft streaks of lilac and fading gold. The kind of sky that made promises it didn’t intend to keep. Mrs. Lang keyed open the door, her hands still holding a sleek white garment bag that carried my wedding gown. I followed her in, the satin hem of my blouse brushing against my wrist like a reminder I couldn’t shake.Sebastian was already home. He sat on the ivory couch in the living room, one leg crossed over the other, a newspaper spread open in his hands as if he were the last man who still read the news in print. His suit jacket lay discarded over the back of a chair, and a glass of whiskey rested untouched on the side table.“Good evening, Mr. Wolfe,” Mrs. Lang said, her voice crisp with practiced politeness.He didn’t look up. “How did the shopping go?” he asked, flipping a page.“Smoothly,” she replied. “We found a suitable gown.”“Splendid,” he said, eyes still locked on the ink and paper. “Because the

• The Billionaire’s Reluctant Bride   Chapter Seven: Shadows Among Silk

  ElenaI woke to a soft knock on the door, sunlight already pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows like judgment. The bed—king-sized, cloud-like, oppressively pristine—felt more like a display prop than a place to sleep. For a second, I forgot where I was. Then I saw the envelope again. Reality rushed in like cold water. I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and pulled the silk robe tighter around me. The floors were warm beneath my bare feet as I padded to the closet. A rack of clothes had appeared overnight—dresses in soft neutrals, tailored blouses, delicate heels. None of them were mine. Of course not. I picked a pale cream blouse and high-waisted taupe trousers, polished and modest. The kind of thing a billionaire’s wife might wear to pick out her shackles. By the time I finished with my makeup—natural, understated—Mrs. Lang was already waiting for me at the door. She gave me a once-over and nodded in approval.“You clean up well, Mrs. Wolfe.”“Elena is fine,” I said, tu

• The Billionaire’s Reluctant Bride   Chapter Six: The Wife Behind Glass

  ElenaThe car ride was silent. The kind of silence that wasn’t empty, but full—of tension, of unspoken terms, of the sharp awareness that I had just signed away the last pieces of myself.The driver didn’t make conversation, and I didn’t want him to. My eyes stayed fixed on the city lights blurring past the window, watching freedom drift further behind me with every mile.When we pulled into the underground garage of the Wolfe residence, the difference in the air was immediate. The smell of money wasn’t loud here—it was embedded, subtle, the way old books carried stories in their scent. A silent valet opened my door. Another took my single overnight bag like it was contaminated.The elevator rose swiftly, too swiftly, to the top. By the time it chimed open, I felt like I was surfacing from underwater—but the air above wasn’t clean. It was sterile.“Mrs. Wolfe,” a woman greeted as soon as I stepped out. Blonde, polished, in a muted gray skirt suit. Perfect posture. “Welcome. I’m Mrs. L

• The Billionaire’s Reluctant Bride   Chapter Five: A Cage Made of Gold

  Elena“The terms have changed, Paul. If you want my help, the contract needs to be signed tonight. And the wedding will happen immediately.”Sebastian Wolfe’s voice was as cold and clean as a blade. I could hear every syllable slicing through the silence of the hospital. My father’s phone was on speaker, but it felt like the man himself had walked into the hospital, dragging his impossible demands behind him like chains.Paul blinked at the phone. “Mr. Sebastian, sir, she’s not ready for something so—”“Then you’re not ready for my money,” Sebastian snapped. “She doesn’t go back to her consulting job. From the moment she signs, she belongs to me—my wife, my responsibility. She’ll be where I can see her, not chasing contracts across the city. I wire the funds the second she walks into my office. Not before.” He hung up.Silence dropped over the room like a wet cloth. I stared at the phone. My throat tightened with the force of unshed protest, but what could I say that hadn’t already be

• The Billionaire’s Reluctant Bride   Chapter Four: No Other Way

  Elena The morning air was crisp as I blinked awake, groggily stretching my arms above my head. The couch wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but I must have been too exhausted to make it to my bed last night. A soft blanket had been draped over me—Dad. I yawned and rubbed the sleep from my eyes before glancing at the clock. 7:35 AM. My heart skipped. The kids! Jumping up, I rushed to Sophia’s room and found her still curled under her blanket, her small form rising and falling with each breath. “Sophia,” I nudged her gently. “Wake up, sweetheart. You’re going to be late.” She groaned and buried her face deeper into her pillow. I turned to the next room, knocking once before pushing the door open. “Jordan, up. Now.” He stirred, eyes cracking open slightly before shutting again. “Sophia, Jordan, if you both don’t get up in the next five minutes, I swear I’ll start pouring water over your heads.” That did the trick. Seconds later, they grudgingly got up from their beds.