Love in lies
img img Love in lies img Chapter 3 Forced Marriage (ii)
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Chapter 6 Feisty Wife img
Chapter 7 Kill her!! img
Chapter 8 Trying to kill my Wife img
Chapter 9 You want this img
Chapter 10 My Nightmare img
Chapter 11 Trust no one img
Chapter 12 Isabella's Alive img
Chapter 13 Safe For Now img
Chapter 14 Closer than you think img
Chapter 15 In trouble img
Chapter 16 Beg for it img
Chapter 17 Your Punishment img
Chapter 18 Make you scream my name img
Chapter 19 In love with this man img
Chapter 20 Screams img
Chapter 21 Ease her pain img
Chapter 22 You love her img
Chapter 23 I love you Marco img
Chapter 24 I was hers img
Chapter 25 Who is she img
Chapter 26 I love you Emily img
Chapter 27 Lucas img
Chapter 28 The lies img
Chapter 29 Kidnapped img
Chapter 30 Torture img
Chapter 31 To burn the world img
Chapter 32 In the warehouse img
Chapter 33 Emily is pregnant img
Chapter 34 Training img
Chapter 35 I want you img
Chapter 36 Inside him img
Chapter 37 A random visit img
Chapter 38 The cameras img
Chapter 39 Mafia or police img
Chapter 40 You img
Chapter 41 Another Kidnap img
Chapter 42 Where is my img
Chapter 43 Someone I once loved img
Chapter 44 I love Luca img
Chapter 45 Suspicious butler img
Chapter 46 Mastermind img
Chapter 47 Just a tool img
Chapter 48 Questions img
Chapter 49 I will find Emily img
Chapter 50 Emily's dead img
Chapter 51 Slimy Lucas img
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Chapter 3 Forced Marriage (ii)

I woke up with a start, the remnants of last night's tears drying on my cheeks.

The room was still, sunlight leaking through the thick curtains of the mansion's guest suite.

My body ached from the weight of everything, betrayal, fear and uncertainty. A knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts.

There was a maid there, her eyes low. "Mr. Martini would like you to join him in the dining room."

My stomach twisted. I hadn't seen Marco Martini yet, only heard the stories, the man who moved through the criminal world like a king in a lion's den. And now I was his bride-to-be.

I followed the maid in silence, my palms clammy. When I stepped into the dining room, the air felt heavy.

He was already seated, legs casually spread, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest.

His dark hair was a little scattered like he'd just run his fingers through it, or someone else had. He exuded power without effort, every movement confident and unhurried.

His gaze locked on me. "Ah," he murmured, voice low and velvet-smooth. "My bride finally graces me with her presence."

My throat went dry, I sat across from him, tense, uncertain. I didn't even notice what was on my plate.

"We're to be married tomorrow," he said, not asking. Telling.

I swallowed. "Why? What do you even gain from this?

He raised a brow, something between amusement and warning flickering in his eyes. "Rule number one, Emily. Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to."

He dismissed the maids with a flick of his fingers. We were alone now.

"You just broke the first rule," he said, voice lowering as he rose from his seat. "Already testing boundaries, are we?"

I stood instinctively, my heart was racing. "I'm not afraid of you," I lied.

He smirked, walking slowly around the table toward me. "You should be."

He stopped just inches from me, his presence swallowing up the space between us.

I could smell him, something expensive, masculine, and warm.

"But not for the reasons you think," he added, lifting his hand slowly, brushing a knuckle down my jaw.

"You want to hate me," he said, tilting my chin up. "You came in here expecting a monster."

"And you're not?"

He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing mine. "Monsters don't ask before they touch."

I stared at him, trembling slightly. "Are you asking?"

"No." His breath ghosted over my skin. "I'm waiting for you to beg."

My stomach flipped, heat curling low in my belly. I hated the way my body reacted to him. To this, to the electricity sparking in the air between us.

"You don't even know me," I whispered.

His eyes darkened. "That's what makes this interesting."

His fingers slid down my arm, slow, deliberate. As if testing, waiting.

"If you want to run," he murmured, "you have five seconds before I stop being polite."

I didn't move.

His lips brushed my cheek. "That's what I thought."

He grabbed me and pinned me to the table, my hands behind my back. His body pressed against mine.

"What are you doing?" I yelled, tears already gathering in my eyes. "You can't rape me, you promised my father you'd treat me-"

"Shut up," he growled, his hand covering my mouth. He raised up my gown, his fingers brushing against my skin.

I shivered, a mix of fear and something else coursing through my veins. He pulled my panties to the side,

He spanked my ass, hard. I yelped, more from surprise than pain. "You broke rule number one again."

He spanked me again, his hand connecting with my flesh with a loud smack. I could feel my pussy throbbing, my body betraying me.

He moved his hand down, his fingers brushing against my clit. I shivered, a mix of fear and pleasure coursing through me.

He teased me, his fingers circling my clit, sending waves of pleasure through my body.

I couldn't help but moan, my body arching against his. "Please," I begged, unsure of what I was begging for.

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound. "Please what, Emily?" He slipped a finger inside me, his thumb still circling my clit.

I moaned, my body trembling with need. He pulled his finger out, his thumb still circling my clit. "Please what Emily," he said, his voice a low growl.

"Please stop" I managed to say, despite my body wanting this, it didn't make me feel less cheap.

Did he bring me here to be his sex toy?

He pulled his finger out and adjusted my gown.

"Get ready, we leave by noon." He said and walked away. I just lay on the table, tears forming the corner of my eye.

I didn't move for a while, I couldn't. The table was cold beneath me, but not colder than the numb ache in my chest.

The silence after Marco's footsteps faded was louder than any scream I could let out. I hated the sting between my thighs. I hated the heat still lingering on my skin. I hated that I didn't hate it enough.

I slid off the edge of the table, adjusting my gown with shaking fingers, my breath catching in my throat.

Was this marriage? Was this punishment? Or something worse, ownership?

I stumbled back to my room, avoiding the maids who watched me too closely, their eyes sharp with judgment, or maybe jealousy. I couldn't tell.

The moment the door clicked shut behind me, I crumbled.

I wanted to scrub his touch off my skin, I wanted to forget the way his voice made me feel.

But mostly, I wanted to understand myself, how could fear and desire exist in the same breath? How could my body respond when my mind screamed no?

I curled up on the bed, pulling the sheets around me like armor.

This mansion, this marriage, this man, none of it belonged to me. Marco Martini had carved himself into my story with brutal precision.

I would survive him, I had to, even if it meant losing parts of myself along the way. Even if it meant becoming a woman I didn't recognize.

Because he might own my time, he might own my name.

But he would never own my fire.

Not ever!

            
            

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