Married To A Sex Freak

Aliya's POV

This is still so not clear to me because I had trusted my father to never come in between me and my boyfriend, Ethan. My heart pounded in my chest as the cologne in the room still felt new. My pain was supposed to have ended since the death of my loving mother some months back, but I'm just feeling down by the surprises life throws at me every day.

I'd imagined this day would be filled with joy and celebration, but instead, it felt like a cruel twist of fate.

Looking back, I realised my opinion stopped being important to my father, months ago as soon as he saw me as nothing more than a bargaining ship and it hit hard as a crushing blow, and not even my late mother's pleas can change my father's mind. The betrayal left me feeling numb like my own life was slipping away.

The truth was even more insulting. My father saw me as a pawn, a way to climb the ladder, marrying me off to Collins to build his designed influence outstanding. It was clear that my feelings didn't matter in this calculating exchange.

My father's business always came first. “Family doesn't matter” he'd say “not even your mother!”. It was a harsh reminder that I had no say in my own life, and it left me feeling utterly powerless.

“But dad, I'm in love with Ethan, not him!” I said. My reply earned me a slap so hard that silenced me, my head reeling from the force.

Yes, women's opinions don't matter here. Even when her husband brings another wife into their home, she is expected to remain calm and happily ready to accept them.

I knew marrying him would be a huge disadvantage. He seemed ruthless, the type of person that'd kill for money or even enjoyment. I was afraid he wouldn't get any time for me or worse. Could I be in danger?

I wasn't actually sad because I knew I was going there to be a slave and not a wife, but I was scared because I learnt he is a Mafia Lord.

I knew that was going to be a great disadvantage for me because he might seem too commanding to be a wicked person who kills for money or pleasure or maybe he wouldn't even have any time for me.

The crinkling of nylon snapped me back to reality. I noticed one of the dressers reaching for my face to touch a little part of my makeup for the last time. She saw the worry in my eyes.

“Don't worry ma'am, your husband might not be as you expect, he might turn out to be the best man ever” she tried to assure me but I bet it isn't working. I only felt a surge of anger, how dare she try to come to me with lies, but I held my tongue.

I felt the urge to destroy the valuables and run away, but now isn't the right time to cause a scene.

I'd pushed the negativity aside, lifted my head, and focused on the wide mirror in front of me.

I examined my flawless makeup, paying close attention to my styled hair and my striking green eyes . My swollen pale face still showing signs of tears was expertly concealed.

“This was supposed to be done for Ethan, not Collins” I had said to myself, whilst still looking into my reflection in the mirror.

But what was so fascinating was that Ethan resented me when he heard the news that I was getting married to another man.

"I never even knew you were this devilish! I will make sure to get back to you and that stupid family of yours!" He had slammed me, and I clearly knew he was boiling at the sight of veins reflecting on his head, neck, and spit sprawling from his mouth as he spoke on top of his cracked voice

I was putting on a white laced wedding gown specially chosen by Collins. Specifically heavy and weighing me down, the hem was beautifully adorned with flowers. I wonder which angel designed this masterpiece.

My jewelry was made with cosy diamonds, which I'm sure of. But that wasn't the case for the day. I have to be happy at all costs, hoping to have a better marriage than my mother's.

I was still forcing myself to accept this fate when Sarah, my closest friend and confidante, barged into the room again as she had been doing since the beginning of my dressing up, this time, with a new perfume that is not mine, but looks familiar to me.

“Hey bestie, I just got this perfume from this nearby mall. Just for you to look… I mean, to smell good for Collins.” She freely said, just to make me feel better for the day.

I know her to always be a free-living optimistic woman who doesn't even want to be with any man so as to not be controlled by them.

Even before she ended her words, she had unboxed the perfume and sprayed it abundantly on me. As soon as the perfume was sprayed, instead of me getting mad at her for that attitude, I suddenly remembered visiting Collins’s mansion for the marriage contract solidification a month ago. The rose, orange, and lily smell took me back to exploring his space.

The house was so big that I was lost in awe. If not for the help of one of his workers that brought me back to reality that day, I'd have remained there, opening my mouth till this day.

“You should come inside and sit here to wait for him, ma'am” she had said with a full smile on her face as if she was ready to accept me into that house.

After long hours of sitting and sipping wine, there was no sign of human movement around, so I got myself up from the chair and walked around the house, up to the stairs. There were doors to numerous rooms, but there was this one door that got my attention. It was newer and more defined than the others, and I was forced to open it.

The interior was heavenly as I walked into it. There were sets and collections of belongings there, but I was more attracted to the bed and perfume collections.

I had it in mind to rest on the bed after I do what my mind is pushing me to do… ’using the perfume’.

I just knew my legs started taking me there as I unboxed one of the perfumes and sprayed it on my body. It reeks of rose plus orange and dried lily. The smell combo was celestial, initiating a sound of an opened door that led to another room, which I never knew was there.

Knowing that made me drop the bottle, and the next sound I heard was glass shattering.

I turned back in fear and gasping, and the sight before me was breathtaking. He moved with a quiet grace, his muscles defined by purpose, not by bulk. They speak of a life lived, of work done with his hands and distances covered on foot. His shoulders are broad enough to carry a heavy pack, but not so wide, they might strain the fabric of his shirts. His forearms holding onto the end of his towel, strong and corded, hint at a quiet power, a capable strength that doesn't need to announce itself.

There is a supple quality to his form, a lean, athletic build that suggests agility and endurance. He is a testament to the idea that true strength lies not in size but in function. He is a man built for the world, not just the gym. His skin glistened, beads of water running down the defined lines of his body, collecting at the base of his abs. His wet hair clung to his forehead, dark strands dripping water onto the floor below.

“Hey, what are you doing here!”

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To be continued!