Sierra Morgan: The Don's Bride

"Harder! Harder!! Please go harder!!!" The clapping sound of flesh on flesh could be heard accompanying the aforementioned screams of pleasure which were coming from Sierra's bedroom. "Right there!! That's the spot, Hmm.." she moaned. She couldn't contain her scream, as she was being bent over her reading table which had a mirror on the wall by it, and so, as her insides were getting pounded by the organ of the hot, white hunk who was standing behind and drilling her, she could only view the action from a third person perspective through the mirror.

"Ohh God!!!!" She screamed a few moments later, as she arrived at the peak of the sexual activity. This yelp was followed by uncontrollable, spasmodic vibrations in her body, and for a moment, it looked as though she was having a convulsion: She went pink, the blacks of her eyes disappeared, leaving only the eerie whites, and all her veins were super visible and looking as though they would pop out of her skin, and her mouth was wide open, like a fish fresh out of water and struggling to survive. "Your payment is on the table, take it as you leave", she said weakly to the man as he got dressed and prepared to leave. She was now sitting on her bed, stark naked, her red hair looking ragged and disheveled, and she, as drained as drained could be. The noise of heels tapping on the marble surface resonated in the vacant penthouse. Sierra Morgan rested her weight on her bed as she stared through her floor-to-ceiling window, a glass of wine sitting loosely on her bedside desk. The lights of the city beneath became a blur in her sight. Or perhaps it was the crying. She glanced back at the noise of rustling behind her as the man responded. "Okay, thanks.." He acknowledged without even looking at her, more intent on getting his clothes on, his pay in his pocket, and his feet out of there. He was twisted into a very tight position while trying to lace up his shoes, and it surprised her how he didn't even look fatigued or spent. He probably did this a lot. As Sierra watched him, she began to get some crazy ideas in her head, and although she knew that what she was about to say was hardly sensible, she couldn't help herself. "Could we...you know meet sometime?" Sierra suggested quietly, as though there was someone else in the room she didn't want to hear it. He turned then, his expression devoid of the charm that had lured her in earlier that evening. His eyes-cold, calculating-swept over her as though she were just another piece of expensive furniture in the room. "Next time," he said, his voice low and biting, "don't call me. Don't call anyone." Sierra's grip on her duvet tightened. "Excuse me?" "You heard me," he said, stepping closer. "This whole thing. The Sex, the desperation, heck you even offered to pay me more to go to dinner with you every weekend. It's pathetic." He gestured toward her with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You. The money. The desperation. It's all just... sad." Her breath halted in her throat. "You... you didn't appear to find it pathetic when I presented you that bundle of money." "Sure, but," he said with a shrug, taking his jacket from the chair, "cash is cash. Doesn't mean I must show respect to the person giving it to me." Sierra attempted to speak, but no sounds emerged. She watched him put on his jacket and head towards the door. "Don't waste your time calling me again," he remarked over his shoulder, his tone conclusive. "Make sure you lock the doors behind you." The door banged closed before she managed to speak. Sierra stayed silent for what felt like hours. The glass of wine stayed untouched, teetering on the edge of the table. Her hands trembled while she recalled his words in her thoughts. Just then a call came in. Sierra in a scurry rushed towards the phone and picked up hoping it was the guy she just had a one-night stand with coming back to apologize. "Hello!". There was a long silence on the phone, followed by an eerie slow breathing. "Hello? Who is this?" Sierra asked now convinced that this was not the guy. There was a pause on the other side for an instant before a deep, warped voice spoke. "Miss Morgan?" Her stomach twisted. "Who is this?" "Doesn't matter," the voice replied. "You need to come with us." Her blood ran cold. "Come with you? What are you talking about? Who-" The line went dead. She looked at the phone, her heart racing in her chest. She rose, her feet gently brushing the floor as she approached the door to inspect the lock. Just as she was about to arrive, the lights in the penthouse blinked and went out, shrouding the space in shadows. "Hello?" Her voice trembled. "Who is it?" The noise of breaking glass windows startled her. She turned quickly, her gaze flicking to where the sound came from. Shadows flickered on the walls as shapes approached her. "Stay away!" she yelled, snatching the closest item-a decorative vase-off the table. Her hands trembled as she lifted it protectively. "Miss Morgan," one of the masked figures remarked, his tone composed, nearly teasing. "Don't complicate this more than necessary." "Leave my home!" she shouted, hurling the vase. It broke apart upon hitting the wall, failing to reach its aim. The man let out a sigh. "Wrong answer." Before she had a chance to respond, another figure emerged from behind her, robust arms encircling her waist and securing her arms firmly against her body. She flailed and yelled, but it was futile. A fabric was pressed onto her face, causing the surroundings to start to fade. Without fear of contradicting anything, Sierra moved and sensed movement close by. Her head hurt, her wrists seemed to ache at the joints, and she could taste iron in her mouth. She blinked, swung her head around trying to take in the event, and found as much as possible that it was dark. The atmosphere was dense and weighed down by the scent of leather and gasoline. All at once, a wave of terror swept through her as she understood she was confined in the car's trunk. "Help!" she shouted, pounding on the walls of the trunk. "Please let me out!" None of her muted calls received any response. The car hit a bump, and she hit her head on the side. She flinched, tears rolling down her cheeks as fear conquered her. Sierra woke up feeling motion. Her head throbbed, her wrists hurt, and she could taste metal in her mouth. Blink. Try to understand her environment, but all she could perceive was darkness. The atmosphere was when tense, and thick with the smell of gasoline and leather. "Hello?" she choked hoarsely, her voice cracking. "Where... where are you taking me?" "Be quiet," one of the men retorted. They brought her into a softly lit room and carelessly placed her in a chair. Her arms were swiftly bound, the coarse rope digging into her flesh. She blinked, attempting to concentrate on the shapes before her. Two men, almost indistinguishable, with defined features and piercing gazes, looked down at her. Their likeness was extraordinary-twins. "Who... who are you guys? What do you want?" she murmured. The man on the left smirked. "Hunter," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. He nodded toward the other man. "And that's Ryder. We're your brothers." Her heart skipped a beat. "What? No... I don't have brothers." Hunter chuckled, leaning closer. "Oh, but you do, Sierra. Daddy dearest didn't tell you, huh? Figures." She shook her head, trying to make sense of his words. "My father... he's dead." "Yeah," Hunter said, his smirk fading. "We know. That's why you're here." Sierra's breath hitched. "What do you mean?" Ryder, who had remained silent until now, crossed his arms and spoke. "Arthur Morgan. Your father. He had a habit of spreading his wealth... and his seed. You're one of many, sweetheart." "That's not true," she said, her voice shaking. "My mother... she told me-" "She lied," Hunter interrupted, his tone sharp. "She wanted you to believe you were special. That the money came from some magical trust fund. But the truth is, Daddy paid for your life. Every last penny." Sierra's stomach churned. "Why... why are you telling me this now?" "Because," Hunter said, his smirk returning, "the free ride is over. Daddy's dead. And now, it's time for you to earn your keep." She stared at him, horrified. "What are you talking about?" Ryder stepped forward, his expression cold. "We need you to do something for the family." Sierra shook her head. "No. I don't owe you anything." Hunter's grin became malicious. "Oh, but you actually do. You have been relying on your father's money for years. It is time to return the favor." Tears flowed down her cheeks. Hunter leaned in close, his face inches from hers. "You're going to marry Dominic Rinaldi." Her heart stopped. "What?" "You heard me," he said, his voice icy. "Dominic killed our father. And you... you're going to help us destroy him." Sierra's head spun. "I can't... I won't-" "You don't have a choice," Hunter snapped, his voice filled with venom. "You either do this, or you lose everything. Your money, your home... your life." She sobbed, shaking her head. "Please... don't do this." Hunter straightened, his expression cold. "Stop crying. You're a Morgan. Start acting like it." Sierra's tears streamed down more intensely, yet she could tell in his gaze that he was indifferent. The life she was familiar with had come to an end.

The space felt stifling. The atmosphere buzzed with tension as members of the Morgan and Rinaldi families confronted one another across the lengthy table. The shimmering chandelier overhead created broken shadows on the walls, yet nobody appeared to be aware. All attention was focused on the two individuals at the heart of the conflict: Hunter Morgan, his jaw set and fists gripped, and Dominic Rinaldi, composed and inscrutable, his fingers gently tapping on the smooth wood's edge. "You have some audacity, coming here," Hunter hissed, his tone quiet yet spiteful.

The man sitting in the Morgan mansion living room-tall, lean, with the kind of ruggedly handsome face one would pay for without hesitation-was adjusting his tie and cuffs, his back straight and showing no sign of wearying. Dominic Rinaldi remained unperturbed. He reclined in his seat, fine-tuning the sleeves of his fitted suit. "I didn't come here to irritate you, Hunter. I came to express my condolences." "Condolences," Hunter scoffed, his lip curling. "You think we're stupid? Our Father is not even cold in the ground, and you're here asking for my sister's hand in marriage like nothing's happened." "It's not like nothing's happened," Dominic replied evenly. "Your father's death is tragic. But I had nothing to do with it." "Bullshit," Ryder Morgan, Hunter's younger brother, snapped from the far end of the table. He leaned forward, his face red. "You think we don't know? Do you think we didn't hear the whispers? Our father killed your father, and you retaliated. Simple as that." Dominic's jaw tightened briefly before his expression returned to a relaxed state. "I'm not here to discuss what happened before. What's done is done." "What's done is done?" Hunter shot to his feet, slamming his hands on the table. "You're admitting it, then? You're admitting you had him killed!" "Sit down, Hunter," Dominic said, his tone sharp but quiet. "I'm not admitting anything. And I didn't come here to trade accusations." "Then why the hell are you here?" Hunter demanded, still standing. "Why should we even let you walk out of here alive?" "Because I have something you need," Dominic said, his voice calm but cutting through the room like a blade. Hunter froze, his glare narrowing. "And what's that?" "Stability," Dominic said. He gestured around the table. "You think this city can survive another war between our families? Look around, Hunter. This isn't the '90s anymore. The Feds are watching, the streets are changing, and every small-timer with a gun thinks they can take a piece of what's ours. If we go to war, we'll both lose. That's not a threat; it's a fact." "You're preaching peace now?" Ryder sneered. "How convenient. After your family's the one who started this mess." "I didn't start anything," Dominic said, his voice hardening. "But I'm trying to end it." Hunter laughed bitterly. "By marrying my sister? Do you think that makes you some kind of savior? That it erases everything you've done?" "No," Dominic said simply. "But it gives us a chance to stop this before it spirals out of control." "Why Sierra?" Ryder asked, his tone suspicious. "Why are you so insistent on marrying her?" Dominic hesitated, just for a moment, but it was enough for Hunter to pounce. "See? Even you can't keep your lies straight," Hunter said, pointing a finger at him. "You want to marry Sierra to tie us to you. To control us. To make sure we can't come after you for what you did to Arthur." "That's not it," Dominic said firmly. He leaned forward, his dark eyes locking onto Hunter's. "Do you know what happens if I don't marry soon? My uncle, Sergio, takes over. Do you know what that means?" Hunter snorted. "Sounds like a Rinaldi family problem. Not ours." "It will be your problem," Dominic said sharply. "Uncle Sergio doesn't care about peace. He doesn't care about alliances or treaties. All he cares about is power. If he becomes Don, he will come after you. He will come after your family, your businesses, everything. And he won't stop until there's nothing left." The room fell silent. Even Hunter seemed momentarily thrown by the weight of Dominic's words. "So what?" Hunter said after a beat, his voice quieter but no less hostile. "You marry Sierra, you stay in charge, and we're supposed to just sit back and trust you? Forget everything you've done?" "I don't expect you to trust me," Dominic replied. "But I expect you to see reason. If we work together, we can keep this city under control. If we don't..." He let the sentence hang in the air, unfinished but heavy with implication. "And what's in it for you?" Ryder asked, his eyes narrowing. "Why do you care about keeping the peace?" Dominic's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "Because I'm not an idiot. A war would destroy us both. And I'm not interested in destroying what I've spent my life building." Hunter stared at him, his jaw tight. "You think you've got it all figured out, don't you?" "No," Dominic said. "But I know this, if we don't stop fighting, someone else will take everything from us. Someone worse than me. Worse than you." Hunter's hand twitched toward his jacket. The room tensed as several Rinaldi men reached for their weapons, their movements smooth and practiced. Dominic didn't move, but his eyes flicked to Hunter's hand and back. "Don't," Dominic said softly. Hunter's hand stopped moving. His eyes blazed with barely suppressed fury, yet he refrained from pulling the gun. "Do you believe you can simply enter here and instruct us on managing our family?" Hunter spoke, his tone quiet and menacing. "Do you really believe we need your help?" "I believe you should consider what is best for your family," Dominic stated. "And I believe you're intelligent enough to understand that war isn't the answer." Hunter remained silent. The space was quiet aside from the soft buzz of the chandelier overhead. Finally, Ryder spoke up. "Let's say we agree to this... arrangement. What happens if it doesn't work? What happens if your uncle comes after us anyway?" "Then we deal with him together," Dominic said. "But if we don't try, we're both as good as dead." Hunter's lips pressed into a thin line. He exchanged a glance with Ryder, who gave a slight nod. "Fine," Hunter said reluctantly. "We'll consider it. But don't think for a second that this means we trust you." "I wouldn't expect you to," Dominic said, rising from his chair. "But I hope you'll make the right decision. For all our sakes." He turned to leave, but before he reached the door, Hunter called out. "Dominic." Dominic paused, glancing back over his shoulder. If you are lying about any of this," Hunter stated, his tone icy and calm, "I will end you myself." Dominic's face remained unaffected. "I wouldn't expect anything different." With that, he exited, his men trailing closely behind. The door clicked closed, leaving the Morgans by themselves in the room. "Do you genuinely believe we can trust him?" After a lengthy pause, Ryder inquired. Hunter took some time before responding. He gazed at the door, his hand continuing to rest on the table's edge. "Not," he said at last. "However, we will go along with it." "At this moment." "And then what?" Ryder pressed. Hunter's eyes darkened. "Then we make sure he regrets ever messing with the Morgans."

The church was cold, the air humming with tension that rivaled the icy marble beneath Sierra Morgan's heels. She stood at the altar, her hands clasped in front of her, the weight of the moment pressing on her chest like a leaden stone. The man beside her, Dominic Rinaldi, hadn't cast a glance in her direction since the ceremony began. He remained standing straight, composed, with his hands folded behind him, his expression unreadable. The priest's voice droned repetitively, a muted sound of duty and custom, yet Sierra hardly listened.

Her eyes darted toward the pews, where Hunter and Ryder sat like statues, their faces carved with silent expectations. Hunter caught her gaze, his lips curling into a faint smirk that sent a shiver down her spine. " Sierra Morgan," the priest's voice interrupted her reflections. "Do you accept Dominic Rinaldi as your legally married husband?" She paused, her throat constricting. "She does," Dominic replied calmly, his tone low, cutting, and filled with certainty. The space became quiet. Sierra's head turned sharply in his direction, her lips slightly separating in resistance. "I don't believe that's your role," she replied, her tone gentle yet tinged with resistance. Dominic's intense stare finally connected with hers, his deep brown eyes narrowing with subtle amusement. "You were wasting too much time." Beneath the weight of his stare, Sierra's chest constricted. She forced herself to exhale, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. "I do." Dominic's lips quirked into the ghost of a smile-mocking, perhaps, or challenging. She couldn't tell. "And do you, Dominic Rinaldi, take Sierra Morgan to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the priest asked, clearly unnerved by the tension crackling between the couple. "I do," Dominic said without hesitation, his voice as smooth as silk, as cold as steel. The vows passed in a blur. Sierra's mind raced, the weight of her brothers' plan pressing against her like a dagger to her spine. She stole another glance at Hunter and Ryder. Hunter's smirk deepened, a silent reminder of her mission. Betray him. Earn his trust. Deliver him to us. When Dominic slid the ring onto her finger, his touch was cool, mechanical, devoid of warmth. Sierra's fingers trembled, but she steadied herself, forcing her hand to remain still. "Smile for the cameras," Dominic muttered, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "What?" "They're watching." His gaze darted to the gathered guests, reporters, and security personnel positioned at each corner. "If you want to avoid them believing it's a funeral rather than a wedding, I recommend you act properly." Sierra forced a strained smile onto her lips. "You seem awfully good at pretending." Dominic's eyes cut back to her, sharp and calculating. "I've had practice." The voice of the priest ascended again. "I hereby declare you as husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." Sierra felt a knot in her stomach. Dominic's hand reached for her waist, his hold steady yet gentle. He leaned closer, and for an instant, his lips grazed her ear. "Don't hesitate," he whispered, his breath warm on her skin. "They are watching." Before she had a chance to reply, a voice pierced the silence. "Dominic," said Luca Rinaldi, Dominic's younger sibling, as he walked to the table holding a glass of whiskey. "Congrats on the wedding." "Thanks, Luca," Dominic replied smoothly, although his eyes remained on Sierra for a moment longer before moving to Luca. --- The reception was a war zone masquerading as a festivity. The ballroom sparkled with chandeliers and golden details, yet the smiles shared among guests were pointed and cautious, blades concealed beneath sleek surfaces. Sierra sat next to Dominic at the head table, her fingers wrapped around the stem of a champagne glass. The strain between them was evident, each look, each word a quiet clash. "You're extremely quiet," Dominic remarked, his tone soft as he leaned in a bit closer to her. "I wasn't aware you wanted a conversation," Sierra replied, her tone clipped. "You haven't exactly been friendly." "We're not friends." His lips curved into a faint smirk. "We're married." "Is there a difference?" Dominic's gaze lingered on her, his amusement giving way to something darker, more intense. "You tell me." Sierra turned away, her eyes scanning the room. She spotted Hunter and Ryder near the bar, their heads closed as they whispered to one another. Ryder caught her eye and nodded subtly a silent command. "Your brothers seem to be enjoying themselves," Dominic said, following her gaze. "They're celebrating." "Celebrating or scheming?" Sierra's breath caught. She turned back to him, forcing a smile. "You're paranoid." Dominic leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And you're a terrible liar." Her heart pounded, yet she maintained a calm expression. "I'm not sure what you mean." "Do you not?" His gaze pierced into hers, intense and unwavering. "I've been part of this scene long enough to recognize when someone is concealing something." Sierra straightened, her fingers tightening around her glass. "Then maybe you should focus on your enemies instead of your wife." Dominic's smirk returned, colder this time. "Who says they're different?" Before she had a chance to reply, a voice pierced the silence. "Dominic," said Luca, Dominic's younger sibling, as he walked to the table holding a glass of whiskey. "I trust I'm not disturbing you." "Not in the least," Dominic replied smoothly, although his eyes remained on Sierra for a moment longer before moving to Luca. Luca's gaze shifted to Sierra, his smile effortless and captivating. "Sister-in-law," he remarked, lifting his glass. "Welcome to the family." Sierra forced a polite smile. "Thank you." "You're braver than I thought," Luca continued his tone light but edged with something she couldn't quite place. "Marrying this one." He gestured toward Dominic. Dominic's expression darkened. "That's enough, Luca." Luca held up his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, brother. I'm simply stating that she should be awarded a medal for tolerating you." Dominic clenched his jaw, yet he remained silent. Luca's eyes stayed on Sierra for a brief moment longer before he took his leave, vanishing into the throng. "Delightful," Sierra remarked, taking a sip of her champagne. "He's an idiot," Dominic muttered, his tone clipped. "Family can be... complicated," Sierra said, her voice softening slightly. Dominic's eyes flicked to her, studying her face. "You would know." Perhaps," she confessed, her tone hardly louder than a whisper. "Regardless, you are also..." she stopped halfway, reminding herself to not get comfortable with Dominic. His lips formed a slight smile, yet it failed to brighten his eyes. "We shall watch." As he was about to depart, Sierra's voice halted him. "Why did you say yes to this?" she asked, her voice gentle now. "This marriage?" Dominic glanced back at her for a slight moment and continued walking without answering her.