CHAPTER 4: Our Wedding Night

  He didn't turn on the lights.

  

  He carried me through the dark penthouse, straight to the bedroom, and dropped me on the big black bed. I bounced, my red dress riding up my thighs, my hair messy.

  

  He stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at me. His black shirt was half open, chest rising fast, eyes burning.

  

  "Caelum," I whispered. My voice shook. "What are you doing?"

  

  "What I have wanted to do since you walked into my office three months ago as an intern." He pulled his shirt off over his head.

  

  God.

  

  I had seen hints of tattoos in his office. Now I saw all of it. His chest, his arms, his abs were covered in black ink - dragons, roses, Italian words. A scar ran from his collarbone to his ribs. He looked like a devil sculpted for sin.

  

  I couldn't look away. Heat flooded my belly.

  

  "See something you like, principessa?" He smirked, knowing exactly what he did to me.

  

  "You said... you said contract. No love. No feelings."

  

  "There are no feelings here." He climbed onto the bed, caging me with his arms, his body hovering over mine. He was so close I could feel his heat, smell his dark cologne mixed with sweat. "This is possession. This is me claiming what is mine."

  

  His hand slid up my leg, pushing the silk slit higher until his fingers brushed the edge of my underwear. I gasped, arching.

  

  "You are shaking again," he whispered against my neck, kissing the mark he left earlier. "Are you scared of me? Or do you want me?"

  

  "Both," I admitted, tears stinging my eyes because I hated that I wanted him. The man who forced me to marry him. "I hate you and -"

  

  "And you want me." He finished, his lips trailing down my collarbone, to the edge of my dress. "Say you want me, Elira. Say it, and I will give you everything."

  

  His mouth hovered over my chest, his breath hot through silk. His hand was still on my thigh, so close, teasing.

  

  "Caelum, please -"

  

  "Please what?" He looked up, eyes dark, possessive. "Tell me. Use your words, wife."

  

  I couldn't. I was 22 and innocent and had never been touched like this. My body was on fire, my mind screaming this was wrong, but my heart pounding for him.

  

  He saw my hesitation and groaned, dropping his forehead to mine.

  

  "You are killing me, you know that?" His voice was strained, like he was holding back a beast. "I could take you right now. You are in my bed, in my dress, wearing my ring. No one would stop me."

  

  His hand tightened on my thigh.

  

  "But I won't." He pulled back slightly. "Not tonight. Not like this. When I finally have you, you will be begging me. You will say 'please, Caelum, I need you.' Not out of fear. Out of want."

  

  He rolled off me and lay beside me, breathing hard, staring at the ceiling.

  

  I lay frozen, chest heaving, dress messy, lips swollen.

  

  "Come here." He ordered.

  

  I hesitated.

  

  "Elira. Come. Here."

  

  I crawled closer. He pulled me into his chest, his arms wrapping around me like chains. One hand in my hair, one on my waist, holding me tight against his hard body.

  

  "You sleep here," he said. "Every night. Like this. So I know you haven't run."

  

  "And if I try to run?"

  

  He kissed the top of my head, possessive.

  

  "Then I will catch you, tie that red dress up higher, and punish you until you can't walk."

  

  My face burned. "You wouldn't."

  

  "Try me, principessa."

  

  He reached over and pulled the black sheets over us, tucking me into him.

  

  I should have felt trapped. I did. But I also felt safe. For the first time since my father told me about the debt, I felt safe in the arms of the devil himself.

  

  He thought I was asleep, but I felt his hand slide down to my ring finger, twisting the diamond ring, making sure it was still there.

  

  "Mine," he whispered in his sleep, almost like a prayer. "Finally mine."

  

  And I, the innocent bride who was supposed to hate him, fell asleep smiling.

  

  Outside, the city lights blinked below us. Inside, the devil in a suit held his contract bride like she was the only thing keeping him human.