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She turns her cool eyes on me, assessing me. No smile lifts her mouth, and her voice is flat as she replies, “Well then, the dress you chose is a good choice if you’re happy with the results—master.”
My eyebrows lift imperceptibly at her tone and the use of the word master. “Master?” I smirk, knowing I’m playing with fire as I retort, “Does this mean you’ve finally come to accept your fate as my wife and future mother of my children?”
Isabella’s voice remains flat, matching the emotionless gaze in her eyes. “Does it matter what I think, feel, do or don’t do? It appears I’m merely a puppet in this world, to be manipulated at the whims of my master, so interpret the narrative as you wish. If you desire my acceptance, then…“ She shrugs her pretty creamy shoulders, giving a tight smile.
“I have a lot of desires, Isabella, especially where you are concerned,” I say, my voice low and deliberate, “I know you don’t see it this way now, but you have an important role to play in my life now. One that can be rewarding if you choose to see it that way. And trust me, kiska, I intend for us both to benefit from this union in many ways. So you’ll find that your compliance will only make things smoother for us both, and once I can trust…”
“Let’s not start this marriage off with lies, Andrey, making it more of a farce than it already is.” Isabella’s voice lowers, but there’s no denying the subtle hiss in it. “You, your family, and my father are the only ones that benefit from this debacle. I’m just the pawn in this game of whatever it is you’re all playing, so get this straight…”
“I’ll play my part.” The mask drops, and I have to force myself not to cringe at the hate that is flashing in her hazel eyes as she continues. “But know it’s just that—a part. I don’t now, nor will I ever, care about what you or anyone else wants, desires, or thinks they deserve. My days of worrying about other people’s wants or needs are over. If this ordeal has taught me one thing, it is that it really is a dog-eat-dog world—especially your world.”
That’s the second time since meeting the little spitfire that a person has spoken to me like they don’t know who I am or what I’m capable of. The first time, Isabella really didn’t know who I was, and this time, she’s letting me know in no uncertain terms that she doesn’t care. My eyes narrow dangerously as I watch her eyes go blank once again, and her mask slips back into place.
“Your father may have bought me. My body may respond to you in ways I seem not yet able to control,“ Isabella continues her tirade, the gold specks in her hazel eyes glinting with malice. “But you will never get my soul.”
I’m about to let her know that’s the last time she talks to me like that, and not only do I accept her challenge, but I’ll also enjoy every last minute of making her see that I always get what I want. And I want all of Isabella, but the judge reappears. I make a mental note to address the issue with Isabella later as Judge Thompson’s voice washes over us—his words binding us in a union that feels both inevitable and precarious.
Even though she angered me beyond the tipping point, I find myself fighting the urge to reach out and comfort her, knowing that she resists my presence as much as she desires it. Guilt hits me hard for a second at the part I’ve played in getting her out of one cage only to put her into what she feels is another.
I quickly push the thoughts and feelings aside. This is Isabella’s life now, one designed by her father and mine. I wasn’t the architect of her fate, but I am now the keeper of it.
“Do you, Isabella Moretti, take Andrey Belov to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Judge Thompson asks.
Isabella’s voice is steady and still flat as she simply replies. “Yes.”
She stares directly at me, a hint of defiance in the slight lift of her chin, ensuring I understand that she’s purposefully omitted “I do.” It’s a clear message: while she may comply outwardly, she’ll never do anything willingly for me.
Well, we’ll see about that, my little hellcat. I raise an eyebrow, letting her know I got her message, as Judge Thompson turns to me.
“And do you, Andrey Belov, take Isabella Moretti to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
My turn. I look into Isabella’s eyes, deliberately tightening my hands on hers, my way of saying I’ll never let you go. I lean slightly forward and feel her stiffen somewhat, but she doesn’t move or let her mask slip. We’re having a silent battle of wills, and Isabella is about to get yet another lesson in how much fucking greater mine is than hers.
“Yes, I do.” I lower my voice and add softly with a half smile. “Until death do we part.”
To give Isabella her due, she doesn’t flinch. The only inclination of any hint of panic is her throat bobbing as she swallows, and that little vein is now trying to burst through her neck it’s throbbing so hard.
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” Judge Thompson says and takes a step back.
I wonder if he can sense that this part is either going to end in myself and Isabella going up in flames due to all the tension between us or bloodshed as Isabella narrows her eyes warningly.
I’m not sure what she’s trying to warn me about because whether she’s willing or not, I’m going to seal this union with a kiss in front of my family and our guests. I’ll be fucked if I let her embarrass me by turning her cheek on me when I reach for her lips with mine or have her recoil as she did from her father.
Leaning in, I capture her face in my hands. The moment our lips meet, I feel her stiffen, but she doesn’t pull away. Not that she could, as I have her head in a vice grip and one hand entangled in her neat chignon.
The cheers of our guests roar beside us. Knowing we’re not alone is the only thing ensuring I don’t throw Isabella on the ground and show her just how quickly I can turn her stoic mask into one of heated passion. While I’m driving my stiff shaft into her tight wet pussy I could have her screaming I do repeatedly at the top of her lungs.
“If you’ll follow me with your witnesses to Ivan’s home office,” Judge Thompson says, clearing his throat, breaking us apart and pulling me from my thoughts. He turns, leading the way. “There, you can sign the marriage register and get on our way to the Moretti estate for the celebrations.”
Urie and his fiancée, Olga Lebedev, our witnesses, follow us into my father’s home office while the rest of the guests leave. It takes less than six minutes to get the signing done, and I can see Judge Thompson wants to chat. My eyes catch Urie’s, and he ushers the chatty man out.
Isabella starts to walk after them, but I stop her, stepping in front of her as Urie pulls the door shut behind him, leaving us alone, “Not you, Isabella. You and I need to have a little talk before we join the guests at your father’s house.”
She tilts her head to look at me and raises her eyebrows as she steps backward, putting space between us. “What would you like to discuss…” She gives me a little curtsy before mocking me with an added, “My lord.”
“Oh, Isabella!” My voice drops, and I give a soft laugh. Flipping the lock on the office door, I start to advance toward her. I see her eyes widen momentarily before darting to the door. “If only you knew how calling me master and my lord is affecting me. Trust me, it’s not the desired effect I believe you were going for.”
I chuckle delightedly as her eyes drop to the monster now straining against my pants. I’m sure of two things right now: one, my wife is about to get a taste of the darker side of me once again, and two, we’re going to be late for the celebrations waiting for us at her father’s house.
