The Marriage Bed Novels & Stories

“You okay?” Amara considered that. “She thinks I’m a pawn.” “You’re not.” “She said the board is watching you. That this marriage is a bluff.” He didn’t reply right away. Instead, he walked to the window and stared out at the endless stretch of manicured lawn and glittering fences. “It is a bluff,” he said finally. “But it’s also real. Once you sign, we get married. Legally. Publicly. For one year.” Amara walked over to him. “Why did she say this wouldn’t be enough?”

“He needs to be married for his inheritance. I need a visa to stay in the country. He suggested we get married to solve both problems.” Mrs. Mary was quiet for a long moment. A pigeon landed near her feet and she shooed it away absently. “A marriage of convenience,” she said finally. “Like in the old days.” “It’s fraud.” “Is it? You’d be legally married. You’d live together, yes?” “He has a penthouse with four bedrooms. We’d have separate rooms.” “Ah.” Mrs. Mary smiled slightly. “Separate rooms. Very proper. Very sensible.” She paused. “Very lonely.”

"He wanted to ensure your comfort on your wedding night." Wedding night. The words hung in the air like a challenge. "This is... it's beautiful," I managed, though my voice came out strangled. "But I think... I mean, perhaps there's a guest room I could use instead? Just until..." I trailed off, not knowing how to finish that sentence. Until what? Until my husband decides he wants to actually sleep with his wife instead of caring for another woman? "Oh, I don't think Mr. Romano would be pleased with that arrangement," Mrs. Benedetti replied, though her expression remained kind. "This is the marital bedroom, Mrs. Romano. Where the master and mistress of the house belong."

The hallway was long, lined with thick carpet, and each step felt like his own heartbeat thudding loudly in his chest. Luckily, there were already plenty of guests today, and many unfamiliar faces. The servants were completely absorbed in the wedding celebrations, chattering away as they walked, paying no attention to the man trailing behind them. That was, until they pushed open a door. "Mrs. Graham, have some fruit to tide you over before you go on stage." The sound of conversation made Luke freeze instantly. The servants had called the woman inside "Mrs. Graham," which meant she was Lucian's soon-to-be bride. If Luke went in now and was seen, it would be unbearably rude.

It’s not doing so well in processing this wild information. Say something. He’s threatening you. Don’t just sit there and take it. Let him know that you’re going to fight back. Although, really? Marriage? The way it’s going, he’s not going to be averse to a no-touch marriage. But does it have to be a marriage of convenience? Sharing a bed with Mr. Gorgeous over there might not be such a bad thing. No. It’s most definitely a bad thing, and this marriage isn’t happening. A marriage just like that?

The sound of the latch clicking sent a shiver down my spine. “It’s our wedding night,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “And I intend to sleep next to my wife.” My mouth fell open, and for a moment, I couldn’t find the words. Was he serious? “Adrien,” I said, my voice sharp. “There’s no way we’re sharing a bed. You should leave.” His smirk deepened, and he took another step closer. “What do you think this is, Selene? Some little game? As far as I’m concerned, we’re married.”

Looking more like the man she'd married and less like the desperate criminal who'd been fighting Russians a few hours ago. "Bed's yours," he said. "I'll sleep on the floor." "Julian, you don't have to..." "Yes I do. You're pregnant. Injured. You need the bed." "There's enough room for both of us. We're adults." "No. I'm not sleeping next to you. That's... that's not appropriate." "We're married. We're married. It's not like we haven't shared a bed before." "That was different. We were together then. Now you're with Caspian. And I'm not going to disrespect that by climbing into bed with his pregnant girlfriend."

“No, I’ll stay here. I can’t let a lady sleep on the couch just because she let me sleep in her room. Either we both sleep in your bed or I stay here. We’re grown adults and married, so the only thing stopping me is you saying it’s okay.” His words made my throat tighten, and I had to fight to speak. “I barely even remember we’re married. Let’s not argue.” He looked gentle. “That’s exactly the problem, Maddie. I could just go into your room and sleep there, but you don’t remember. You don’t remember our marriage, so I need you to say it’s okay, even for something as simple as sharing a bed. Will you let me? Because I’m not letting you sleep on this uncomfortable couch. But if you don’t want

And then silence returned, heavier than before. I turned my back to him and buried my face in the pillow. Only then did the tears I’d been holding back finally fall. Another night, another silence. I should have just followed my parents’ wishes. I shouldn't have insisted. It shouldn't have ended like this... a marriage without a name. I woke up around four in the morning. I cooked his favorite American breakfast and asked Belen to serve it before I went back to bed. When I opened my eyes again, it was 6:30. He was gone.

I noted. "It’s the m⁠ar‌ria‌ge bed," L⁠oren‌zo said​, dropping th​e ba‍g on a wooden chest. "My parents slept her⁠e. My grand⁠parents slept here‌.‌ It is...‍ sym⁠bolic."