All Chapters of Married To The Son Of Sin : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The moment his name left his lips—”Adam Lancaster”—the air turned thick, suffocating. I should have run. But his eyes held me there—icy blue, calculating, stripping me bare with one glance. "You’re new," he said, swirling a glass of something amber. His voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it, like a knife wrapped in silk. I forced my chin up. "Just passing through." His smirk deepened. "No one just passes through Club Nine Hundred." Cara’s nails dug into my arm as she giggled, shoving me forward. "Adam, this is—" "Lena," I cut in, the lie bitter on my tongue. Adam’s gaze flickered—just for a second—but long enough for me to catch it. He knew I was lying. "Lena," he repeated, testing the name. "You don’t look like a Lena." My pulse hammered. "And what do I look like?" "Trouble." The way he said it sent heat crawling up my neck. A server appeared with a fresh bottle, but Adam waved him off. "Leave us." Cara hesitated, shooting me a “don

The Lancaster estate didn't simply appear - it emerged from the storm like some primordial beast shaking off centuries of sleep. Towering wrought iron gates shrieked their protest as they parted, the sound setting my teeth on edge. Through the rain-streaked window, I watched the family crest flash in a burst of lightning - a lion rampant with a dagger clenched in its jaws. How fitting.Adam sat across from me in the plush interior of the town car, his polished Oxfords digging trenches in the virgin carpet. The dim interior lights carved hollows beneath his cheekbones, making him look more specter than man. His knuckles stood out white against the leather folder in his lap, the veins in his hands standing in sharp relief. The scent of his cologne - something obscenely expensive with notes of sandalwood and bergamot - clashed violently with the metallic tang of fear coating my tongue.Three hours. Three hours since he'd dragged me from my home, and not a single word had passed his lips.

The silver key glinted in the moonlight like a dare, its delicate teeth catching the pale glow as I turned it over in my trembling fingers. The weight of it in my palm felt like both salvation and damnation. Adam's parting smirk haunted me—that cruel, beautiful curve of lips that made my stomach tighten with equal parts dread and something far more dangerous. The memory of his breath warm against my ear as he'd pressed it into my hand sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. "Try not to break your legs."His voice had dropped to that low, intimate register when he said it, the words curling around me like smoke. The fleeting brush of his fingers against my palm had left my skin burning long after he'd withdrawn. I waited until the grandfather clock's third chime vibrated through the floorboards, each resonant strike seeming to shake the very foundations of this gilded prison. The balcony doors opened with barely a whisper, revealing the terrifying drop to the rose garden below. M

The black town car glided through the rain-slicked streets, its tinted windows turning the city lights into smears of gold and shadow. I huddled in the corner, my dress clinging to my thighs, the emerald choker around my throat suddenly too tight. Adam lounged across from me, rolling a crystal glass of amber liquor between his long fingers. The ice clinked as he took a slow sip, his piercing blue eyes never leaving mine. "why did we leave the party?""Because I want to spend some quality time with my wife! Lucia Adam Lancaster "I gave him a death glare."Relax," he murmured, his voice like velvet over steel. "If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't need a moving vehicle to do it." The car descended into an underground garage beneath one of the city's tallest skyscrapers. Adam's hand settled at the small of my back as he guided me to a private elevator, his touch burning through the opened silk of my dress. The elevator ascended silently, the numbers climbing higher until my ears po

The bedroom door clicked shut behind Adam, sealing us in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. Outside, the storm still raged, rain lashing against the floor-to-ceiling windows like fingers scrabbling to get in. I shivered under the covers, watching as Adam methodically rolled up his ruined sleeves, revealing forearms corded with muscle and faded scars. "You're still shaking," he observed, his voice unreadable. "I'm fine," I lied, pulling the blankets higher. Adam scoffed, moving to the ensuite bathroom. The sound of running water filled the heavy silence. When he returned, he carried a steaming mug that smelled of chamomile and something earthy. "Drink this." I eyed it warily. "What is it?" "Tea, Lucia. It's fucking tea." He thrust it toward me, his knuckles whitening around the ceramic. "Or would you prefer I taste it first to prove it's not poisoned?" Our fingers brushed as I took the mug, sending an unwelcome spark up my arm. The warmth seeped into my chilled hands as I t