Celeste's footsteps echoed against the cold marble floors as she was led deeper into Xavier Ashford’s mansion. The grand chandeliers overhead cast golden hues across the gothic architecture, yet the place felt void of warmth—like a palace built for a king without a soul.
Her hands instinctively clutched the fabric of her wedding dress, the delicate lace now feeling like a shroud of doom wrapped around her body. Every instinct in her screamed to turn around, to run. But where would she go? She belonged to him now.
Xavier walked ahead of her, his presence commanding the space. He moved with the ease of a man who feared nothing, a predator who had already won his hunt. The silence stretched between them, suffocating, until he finally spoke.
“You’re awfully quiet, wife.”
Celeste flinched slightly at the word. Wife. It sounded foreign, wrong. “What do you expect me to say?” she murmured, forcing herself to keep her voice steady.
Xavier turned his head slightly, regarding her with an amused smirk. “Most brides are overwhelmed with excitement on their wedding night. But you… you look like a caged bird.”
She met his gaze, her chest tightening. “That’s what I am, aren’t I?”
For a brief moment, something flickered in his dark eyes—something unreadable. Then, just as quickly, it was gone. He chuckled, low and mocking. “Smart girl.”
The tension between them thickened as they climbed a winding staircase. Celeste’s heartbeat quickened when she realized where they were headed—their bedroom.
Her breathing grew shallow. The thought of being alone with him, vulnerable and at his mercy, made her stomach twist in fear. She wasn’t naïve—she knew what was expected of a wife on her wedding night.
Xavier stopped in front of a massive door, pushing it open with ease. “Come in,” he said, his voice smooth yet laced with quiet authority.
Celeste hesitated before stepping inside. The room was just as intimidating as the rest of the mansion—vast, luxurious, yet eerily lifeless. A grand four-poster bed sat in the center, draped in dark silk sheets. The fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering shadows along the walls.
She swallowed hard.
Xavier leaned against the doorway, watching her every move like a hunter observing his prey. “Do you know what I despise the most, Celeste?” he asked suddenly.
She turned to him, her fingers gripping the fabric of her dress. “What?”
“Disobedience.”
The word sent a chill down her spine.
Xavier took a slow step forward, closing the distance between them. “You will learn, my dear wife, that in this house… you do not get to run. You do not get to say no.”
Her breath hitched as he reached out, his fingers grazing her chin, tilting her face up to meet his. His touch was deceptively gentle, yet she could feel the power beneath it—the unspoken warning.
“From this moment on,” he murmured, his lips barely inches from hers, “you belong to me.”
Celeste wanted to scream, to shove him away, but she knew—defying him would only make things worse.
So, she did the only thing she could.
She lowered her gaze and whispered, “Yes, husband.”
Xavier smirked. “Good girl.”
But as he turned away, as the heavy reality of her situation sank in, Celeste knew one thing for certain.
She may have said the words.
But she would never truly belong to him.
Not if she could help it.
YOU ARE READING
The Devil's Bride (Dark Romance)
RomanceThe Devil's Bride Celeste Hartwell never imagined that a simple business deal would seal her fate in a marriage with Xavier Ashford-the ruthless and enigmatic billionaire known for his cold heart and dangerous past. Trapped in his world of luxury an...
