Novels by Lynda writes

Fiona's pov I stood in the middle of the grand dining room, staring at the long table set with a breakfast I didn’t want. Logan sat at the head, his presence cold and commanding, his focus locked on a heap of papers. He didn’t even look up.I cleared my throat. “I was thinking we could talk about the territory’s management today. I’d like to be involved.”“No.” His reply was sharp, dismissive.My brow raised. “But as your wife.....”“You’re here to play your part, Fiona,” he cut in, his tone like ice. Finally, he lifted his cold, piercing eyes to meet mine. “Not to make decisions. Do what you’re told and stay in your place.”The words I wanted to throw at him burned in my throat, but I bit them back. Fighting him now would only make things worse. Swallowing my frustration, I sat at the far end of the table, as far from him as I could get. The space between us felt like a very large desert.Servants moved around silently, setting a delicate plate of fruit and pastries in front of me.

Fiona's POVIt wasn’t the dress that made me feel trapped, though. It was the man beside me, his presence colder than the walls surrounding us.Logan stood at my side, his posture very stiff and his expression unreadable. I could feel the space between us, very big and large as an ocean. His eyes, dull and uninterested, looked over my face as if he was preparing me for something far less personal than what we were about to do. His eyes met mine for only a little moment, a quick glance that lasted no longer than the flicker of a candle before it shifted away. He didn’t care what I thought. He didn’t care what I felt.I wasn’t his wife-to-be in his eyes. I was a tool, a means to an end. The union wasn’t for love or affection. It was for power and as much as I hated it ,, there was nothing I could do to escape it now."Fiona," logan's voice sliced through the silence like a blade, smooth and detached but carrying a faint hint of impatience. "Hold still. You’re fidgeting."I didn't respon

Fiona’s POVLogan Blackridge. His name alone carried a reputation of fear__a man colder than ice itself and just as unforgiving. My heartbeat drummed loudly in my ears, but I forced my breathing to stay calm. If I showed even an inch of weakness, I’d be proving everyone right.The fire was moving behind me, but it did nothing to ease the chill crawling down my spine. Magnus had dressed me in a green gown that was too tight to my body, its neckline far lower than I was comfortable with. “Appearances are important,” he’d said. As if a dress would make any difference to the man about to walk through those doors.Suddenly the door opened and there he was.Logan walked in, his coat sweeping behind him, every step deliberate and unhurried. His face was like stone, his gray eyes sharp and piercing as they locked onto me. For a moment, I forgot to breathe. He was taller than I’d imagined, broader too, with dark hair that looked like it had been carelessly raked back. The kind of man who didn’

Fiona’s POV“Fiona!” Magnus’s voice thundered through the hallway, sharp and commanding. Even from behind the closed door, it made me shiver. His tone wasn’t a request; it was an order like always. My stomach twisted, the knot of anger I kept buried tightening. I took a breath, letting the icy air of my room fill my lungs. Whatever he wanted, I would face it the way I always had: head held high, no matter how much it cost me.I pushed open the door and made my way toward the grand hall, my shoes making sounds against the wooden floor. The sound echoed in the empty corridor, each step a reminder of the silence that ruled this house unless Magnus chose to break it. The shadowy lights overhead flickered as I passed, casting faint shadows that seemed to shrink under his rule, just like everyone else.When I entered the hall, I found him pacing in front of the massive fireplace. His presence filled the room, heavy and suffocating. He turned as I approached, his dark eyes locking onto me a