All Chapters of CRUEL ROMANCE: MR. LANGSTON'S OBSESSION: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

TESSAThe words hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest.My crystal glass slips from my numb fingers, shattering on the floor in a symphony of destruction. The sound echoes through the room, sharp and final, like the sound of my future breaking into a thousand pieces.Wine spreads across the floor like blood, seeping into the expensive carpet around the table, staining it permanently.I stare at the mess, thinking how fitting it is. Beautiful things breaking, leaving permanent marks, impossible to clean up completely."Me? But how, Dad? He doesn't even know me, and I don't want to be involved with a man I know nothing about." My voice breaks on the last word.On second thought, he does know me, or at least he knows about me. You don't offer to marry someone sight unseen unless you've done your research. He's probably seen photos, read reports, knows exactly what he's getting for his investment.The realization makes my skin crawl."He knows exactly who you are. He knows everything abo

TESSAThe next morning hits me like a freight train. I wake up gasping and my heart hammering in my ribs. For a split second, I think I'm back abroad, that this whole nightmare was just some twisted dream brought on by too much studying and not enough sleep.Then reality crashes down on me all over again. Tonight. I'm meeting him tonight.My hands shake as I reach for my inhaler, taking two quick puffs before the panic can really set in. The medicine tastes bitter on my tongue, but it loosens the invisible bands around my chest just enough to let me breathe.A soft knock on my door makes me jump."Miss Tessa?" Scott's gentle voice filters through the wood. "Your mother asked me to let you know I'm ready whenever you'd like to go shopping."Shopping. Right. I need the perfect outfit to meet the man who's buying me."I'm not feeling well," I call back in a voice coming out scratchy and weak. "Maybe later."There's a pause, then Scott's footsteps retreating down the hallway.I pull the c

TESSASix weeks passed in a blur of wedding preparations that felt more like planning a funeral. My funeral. Every decision was made for me: the flowers, the menu, the guest list filled with people I'd never met but who were apparently crucial to Dad's business relationships.I wasn't consulted on any of it. After all, what did the bride's opinion matter when this was really just a merger disguised as matrimony?I didn't see Blaze again during those weeks. Not once. The only evidence that our engagement was real was the massive diamond on my finger that grew heavier with each passing day, and the expensive gifts that would arrive without warning. Designer dresses in my exact size, jewelry, rare perfumes. Each package came with a simple card bearing only his initials: B.L. No sweet messages, no romantic gestures, just his mark of ownership.The dresses were the worst part. Beautiful, certainly, yet revealing in ways that made me uncomfortable. Plunging necklines, backless designs, heml

TESSA"I do." The words come out as barely a whisper, but they're enough. They're binding.It's time for the rings and Blaze brings a simple platinum band that matches the engagement ring already on my finger."With this ring, I thee wed. You belong to me now, Tessa. Completely and utterly mine!”The way he slides it into place makes my body shudder.His fingers linger on mine longer than necessary, tracing patterns on my skin and when he looks at me, there's something hungry in his eyes.The spoke the traditional words, yet twisted into something darker and more possessive.I place a matching band on his finger, my hands shaking so badly I almost drop it.His skin is warm under my touch, very much alive, very much real. This isn't a nightmare I can wake up from. This is my life now.I can't help but notice how it looks on his hand. It's a simple band, elegant but somehow looks wrong on him. He doesn't seem like the kind of man who should be wearing a wedding ring, who should be makin

TESSABlaze guides me up a grand staircase that curves toward the third floor, his hand never leaving my back.Each step feels heavier than the last, weighed down by dread and the crushing reality of what is about to happen.We pass several closed doors, and I find myself wondering what lies behind them. The hallway seems to stretch on forever until we stop in front of double doors made of dark wood,Blaze pushes them open and steps aside, waiting for me to enter first. The gesture might seem polite if not for the way his eyes track my every movement, cataloging my reactions for future reference.The bedroom is enormous, easily three times the size of my childhood room. It is decorated in deep blues and charcoal grays that scream masculine dominance. A king-sized bed dominates the center of the room, its dark wooden frame carved with the same intricate patterns as the doors.The headboard is tall and imposing, reaching almost to the ceiling, making the bed look more like a throne than