Page 26 of Forced Pregnant Bride

Then, the moment came.

As his lips brushed softly against mine, the kiss was gentle, almost reverent. In that fleeting moment, I felt the wallsof my heart begin to crack, and I wasn’t sure at the time, but something in me wanted more.

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We went into the house at separate times for a quick shower and a change into something smoother. Klavdia practically had to force me out of the room when all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep the rest of my life away.

He had some of his people set up and organize one of the large halls in the house to be decorated. Before now, I didn’t even know such a chamber existed in the same building, and slowly, it started to sink in, what Klavdia said about being the lady “…of all of this.”

I could hardly believe it as I stepped into the grand ballroom. It was jaw-dropping magnificent. The air was thick with the intoxicating blend of expensive cologne and the sweet aroma of floral arrangements. Russian laughter—if there ever was such a thing—and music surrounded me, echoing off the high ceilings as shimmering chandeliers reflected a warm glow over the sea of darkly dressed guests.

Myhusbandwas the center of attention. It was almost charming to watch as he commanded the room with his confident presence. He wore a tailored suit that hugged his form, his trimmed hair catching only a glimpse of light. I wasn’t going to deny it; the man was smoking hot.

Maybe too hot.

But what reeled me in more was the carefree slight of a slight smirk playing on his lips. It was the most genuine resemblance to a smile I’d seen on him since…ever.

He seemed relaxed and less uptight as he mingled with three men, two of whom resembled him more than the other. They were real-life photocopies of Timur, sporting the same jawlines, cold eyes, and intimidating posture.

One of them was the man who tried to kill us.

Later, I learned from one of the maids that he was Rafayel, “the master’s” brother.

Looking away from him to rid myself of the painful memories and back to the man who was now legally mine, I felt drawn to him, an invisible tether pulling me closer, even as the music swirled around us.

Like he felt someone watching, he paused mid-conversation, and his eyes drifted away from his family to mine.

The moment our eyes met, the world faded into a blur, leaving only a burst of immediate heat between us. Slowly, it began licking its way up to my core.

My heart skipped too many beats, and I turned away, more like a child that had been burnt by the touch of fire. It was the first time I had ever felt such a thing.

What was that?

Slipping through the crowd, weaving past chatty guests and clinking glasses, the weight of anticipation built in my stomach. The laughter grew louder, the music more pulsating, but all I could focus on washim.

Brown eyes.

Midnight and ice.

Scary tattoos on his fingers.

My breath caught in my throat when it hit me.

Tonight, those fingers were going to touch me.

He was a force of nature, and a thrill of submission washed over me. After that night, bound in ropes in that dark room, when he presented the offer, I accepted this fate, to be his. Now, the thought terrified me.

As the evening wore on, I found myself on the dance floor, enveloped by the rhythm of the music and his electrifying presence.

Then, it was time for the couple’s dance.

The sea of guests parted, ushering us forward to each other. He took my hand, pulling me closer until our bodies brushed against each other, igniting a spark that left me breathless. I could feel the heat radiating from him, and I surrendered to the moment, my heart pounding in sync with the beat.

Dropping his face to my ear, he murmured softly in Russian and pulled back. The darkness covered his eyes again like a shield as he stared straight ahead.

But I didn’t worry about that.

The warmth of his breath on my skin, his low and sultry voice, his smell—everything sent butterflies fluttering through my stomach. I couldn’t help but blush under the intensity of his sharpshooting gaze.

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