All Chapters of The Billionaire's Unwanted Bride: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The first thing I felt was the wall against my cheek. Cold. Hard. Unforgiving. My wedding nightie was shoved up around my waist, the thin white fabric bunched under my breasts, and I could feel the stretch of him still buried deep inside me. His breath was hot and whiskey-sour against the back of my neck. One of his hands pinned both of my wrists above my head. The other stayed locked on my hip, holding me in place like I might try to run. Three hours ago I stood in front of a lot of people and said “I do” to a man who thought I was my sister. Now that same man was fucking me against the wall of a bedroom that smelled like money and expensive cologne, and every rough thrust reminded me exactly how little choice I had left. My name is Sloane Vex. I was never supposed to be the bride. And I wasn’t the type to be forced into marrying someone I had never wanted. I have always believed that particular fate would simply pass me by. But thanks to my parents, it happened successfully—q

Sloane's POV The wet heat of it sent a strange, unwanted shiver straight down my spine. God, something stirred inside me that I couldn’t explain. A low, treacherous heat that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the way his body pressed against mine. Before I could even think of pushing him away, he moved. He spun me with surprising strength, my back hitting the wall with a dull thud.The nightie was shoved roughly up over my hips. Cool air kissed the bare skin of my ass for half a second—and then the thick, blunt head of his cock pressed against me. He pushed his cock inside my ass in one long, relentless stroke. My eyes widened. A sharp, broken sound tore from my throat as the stretch burned deep and sudden, forcing me open around him. He was big, thicker than , and he didn’t stop banging me until his hips were flush against me. One hand gripped my hip hard enough to bruise. The other came down in a stinging spank across my ass that made me jerk forward o

Sloane's POV Two days later, the door opened. Two maids stood in the doorway with Kaelan Thorne right behind them. My gaze went straight from their faces to their hands, checking for trays, for bowls, for anything that meant food. That was all they ever brought me. Food and water. Morning and night. They forced me to eat so I would not collapse. Strength was the only thing they seemed interested in keeping alive in me. For the past two days I have been treated like nothing but a criminal. As if it was my fault that Lark decided to elope with someone else. As if I had planned every second of this nightmare just so I could escape my parents. I thought swapping places would free me. I thought it would be a way out. Instead I had dug my own grave and climbed inside it. “Wash her up,” Kaelan said. His voice was cold, flat, the same tone he used when he ordered the servants around. “And make sure you feed her very well.” The words did not shake me. The worst had already happened.

Sloane's POV The next day, I woke up tired, my body aching in ways that made every small movement feel like a reminder of the night before. My thighs burned. The space between them throbbed with a dull, insistent pain that refused to fade. When I came out of the bathroom last night, he pushed me to the bed again and fucked me. Kaelan didn’t stopped fucking me until I pretended to fall asleep. Even then, his hips had kept moving, while he moaned another woman’s name against my neck. “Lark is the woman I loved, not you.” The words still sat in my ears like something sharp left behind. I stared at the ceiling for a long minute, listening to the quiet of the room, before I finally sat up. My arms shook a little as I pushed myself to the edge of the bed. I managed to get down and walked into the bathroom on unsteady legs. The shower helped, but only a little. Hot water ran over my skin and eased some of the stiffness, yet it couldn’t wash away the ache or the memory of his v

Third Person POV The rain has been falling for hours, the empty streets of the city became dark, reflective ribbons. Maxwell Smith gripped the steering wheel of his black Rolls Royce Phantom, the soft glow of the dashboard lights the only company on his late drive home. His phone rang again. He already knew who it was, his mother. “Son, have you reached home?” his mother’s voice came through, warm and insistent. “No, please stop monitoring me like I’m a child.” “Maxwell, listen to yourself. You want me to stop worrying? You’re a rich man with rivals who would love nothing more than to see you fall.” Maxwell exhaled through his nose, he was still doing that when he caught a glimpse of someone in front of his car. “I’ll call you later.” He ended the call, a pale figure appeared in the road ahead. She walked slowly, almost drifting, soaked through by the rain. Her dark hair clung to her face. Maxwell pressed the horn hard. The sharp blast made her flinch. She stumbled, then