Chapter 6: The Wedding Night

I must be dreaming.

I stared at my reflection in the massive, gold-framed mirror. The woman staring back at me didn't look like Seraphina Vance. She looked like a stranger.

The wedding dress was a masterpiece of white silk and lace. It was elegant, expensive, and had been delivered to the penthouse by a personal stylist less than three hours ago. It probably cost more than my father's entire debt.

Are you for real right now? I thought, my hands trembling as I smoothed the fabric over my hips. Two days ago, I was crying in a hotel bar. Today, I am marrying the most terrifying billionaire in the city.

A sharp knock echoed through the room. Before I could answer, the door swung open.

Lucian stood in the doorway.

My breath caught in my throat. He was wearing a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, his dark hair styled back. He looked powerful, ruthless, and so devastatingly handsome it made my chest ache.

His gray eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the cold mask slipped. His gaze raked over me, taking in the dress, my hair, my face. A dark, possessive hunger flashed in his eyes.

"You look beautiful," he said, his voice a low rumble.

I swallowed hard. "Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself."

"We need to leave," he said, his voice snapping back to its usual cold command. "The judge is waiting."

The ceremony at City Hall was a blur. There were no flowers, no music, and no family. Just a bored judge, Lucian's icy lawyers, and me, trembling in a wedding dress.

"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the judge asked.

I looked up at Lucian. His gray eyes were fixed on mine, burning with an intensity that made my knees weak.

"I do," I whispered.

"And do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do," Lucian said, his voice ringing with absolute certainty.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Lucian didn't wait a second. He grabbed my waist, pulled me flush against his hard chest, and crushed his mouth to mine. It wasn't a chaste peck. It was a deep, demanding, punishing kiss. He kissed me like he was claiming his territory, right in front of the judge and the lawyers.

When he pulled back, I was breathless, my lips tingling.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Black," he murmured, a dark smirk playing on his lips.

Mrs. Black. Oh my God.

We returned to the penthouse an hour later. The silence in the elevator was suffocating. The tension was so thick I could barely breathe. His hand rested on my lower back, his thumb tracing slow, torturous circles through the silk of my dress.

The moment the elevator doors opened into his apartment, the polite facade shattered.

Lucian grabbed my hand and pulled me into the bedroom.

"Lucian," I gasped.

He didn't answer. He spun me around, his fingers finding the zipper of my wedding dress. He pulled it down slowly, the sound echoing in the quiet room. The heavy silk pooled at my feet, leaving me standing in nothing but my white lace lingerie.

He turned me back around to face him. His eyes were almost black with lust.

"You are mine now," he growled, his hands gripping my hips. "Completely."

He lifted me, laying me on the silk sheets. He hovered over me, his body radiating heat. He leaned down and captured my mouth in a searing kiss. His hands roamed my body, rough and demanding, claiming every inch of my skin.

"I want you," he breathed against my neck, his teeth grazing my collarbone. "I've wanted you since the moment you stumbled into my hotel room."

A moan escaped my lips. My body was on fire, arching into his touch. I reached for the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine.

He let me push the shirt off his shoulders. I ran my hands over his sculpted chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

But as I reached for his belt, he suddenly froze.

He pulled back, his breathing heavy. The lust in his eyes was suddenly banked by that cold, terrifying control.

He stood up, looking down at me with an unreadable expression.

"Lucian?" I whispered, pulling the sheet up to cover myself. "What's wrong?"

He walked over to the window, staring out at the city lights. His back was a wall of muscle, tense and rigid.

"The contract requires us to share a bedroom," he said, his voice flat and devoid of the heat from a moment ago. "But it does not require us to share a bed."

I blinked. What?

"I don't understand," I said, sitting up. "I thought..."

"You thought what?" he interrupted, turning to face me. His eyes were cold. "That because I kissed you, because I want your body, that this is real? It's a business arrangement, Seraphina. Do not forget your place."

My face burned with humiliation. Tears pricked the back of my eyes.

"Get some sleep," he said, walking toward the bedroom door. "I'll be in my study."

"Wait," I called out, my voice cracking. "Where are you going?"

"I have work to do," he said, his hand on the doorknob. "And you need to rest. Tomorrow, we begin playing the part of the happy couple."

"But..." I trailed off, clutching the sheet.

He didn't look back. He just opened the door and walked out, closing it firmly behind him.

I stared at the closed door, a single tear slipping down my cheek. I had just married a man who made my body burn, only for him to freeze me out.

But as I sat there in the massive, empty bed, I noticed something on the floor near his nightstand. It was a piece of paper that must have fallen out of his jacket pocket when he took it off.

I leaned over and picked it up.

It was a photograph. An old, crumpled photograph of a woman. She had blonde hair and a bright smile. But her face was crossed out with a thick black marker, and the words written underneath in Lucian's sharp handwriting were: 'YOU WILL PAY.'

I gasped, dropping the photo.