Terms of Deception

Ivy’s POV

As the sleek, black sports car pulled up to the grand entrance, my eyes widened in awe. I had seen my fair share of beautiful mansions in the city. My parents artistically decorated all of our homes, but I hadn’t seen one as stunning as this.

Asher smiled triumphantly, that boyish grin that always made my cheeks flush, as he stepped out of the driver’s seat and walked around to open the car door for me. He was ever the gentleman, and I knew better than to argue.

“Welcome to our new home, my love,” he said with a bright smile, offering his hand to help me out of the car.

‘My love.’ He was definitely one for terms of endearment.

My gaze swept across the sprawling mansion, taking in the towering columns, crystal-clear windows, and meticulously manicured lawns. I felt like a fairytale princess entering a magical kingdom. “It’s beautiful...” I whispered.

He came up behind me. “Not nearly as beautiful as you are...”

I bit my lower lip, stifling a blush. As we stepped inside, I gasped in pleasant surprise at how tastefully decorated it was. He would give my parents a run for their money. “I think you and my parents will get along so well, based on how your house looks.”

“Oh, the Whitfields. I can’t wait to meet them,” he responded.

We were greeted by a few housekeepers waiting at the entrance.

I stared in awe at the opulent chandelier that hung from the ceiling, the polished marble floors, and the sweeping staircase. Asher’s smile widened as he watched me. “I should give you a tour of the house,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me along without warning. “Here’s the living room...”

I looked around. The living room was a luxurious space filled with natural light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows. The walls were painted a warm, creamy white and adorned with elegant artwork and mirrors. Plush velvet sofas in a rich charcoal-gray hue were arranged around a stunning stone fireplace, creating a cozy seating area.

There was a huge piano by the side of the room. “Do you play?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes, I do.”

The third thing I learned about my husband: he could play the piano. It was also something we had in common.

“Nothing much happens here,” he added, letting me wander and admire each piece of art on the walls. I spotted one by my parents—a stunning view of the Eiffel Tower at night. It was remarkable. I turned to look at him, a small smile forming on my lips.

“I got this at their art exhibition in Paris,” he explained. “It’s a timeless piece.”

Point 4: my new husband was an art lover.

We moved to his large study next. Mahogany bookshelves lined the walls, towering high, with a fine wooden desk and chairs in the middle. There was a warm, inviting feel to this part of the house. He pulled out a document from one of the drawers and handed it to me. “Our marriage contract, drawn up yesterday.”

I stared at him in surprise.

“It has all the terms we discussed the day before. I already signed. You should sign it.” He passed me a pen.

I hesitated. “Shouldn’t I look this over? Maybe have my lawyer explain it to me?”

“It’s pretty standard—five years, a non-disclosure agreement...”

I took the pen from him and signed. There were several places to sign, and he showed me where. When I finished, he smiled mischievously. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

I felt instant regret. “Asher...”

“Come on, Ivy. There’s still so much to see.” He led me to the indoor pool. “A lot happens here,” he said with a smirk. “We’ll be spending plenty of time here together...”

There was definitely a sexual undertone to his words. The smirk on his face confirmed it. “What do you mean?” I asked, my heart racing.

He bit his lower lip and gave me a sultry look. “Oh, you’re so innocent, Ivy,” he said in his deep baritone voice.

It made me shudder involuntarily. Simple words, yet they carried a deeper meaning.

“I’m going to enjoy this so much,” he said, grabbing my hand. “Come on...” He led me to the master bedroom.

The room was painted a soft, creamy gray, giving it a dark, masculine feel. The vaulted ceiling had exposed beams, and a majestic stone fireplace was flanked by built-in bookshelves and reading nooks. A few sculptures were arranged neatly on a shelf, and a large mirror hung on the wall.

My eyes traveled to the bed. It was a large, plush bed, dressed in crisp white linens and adorned with pillows. I imagined him sprawled on the sheets, surrounded by the soft pillows, his toned body naked...

“This is where the magic happens,” he whispered in my ear. I shuddered and gasped, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I had just imagined him naked, and God, did he look hot!

I cleared my throat and turned to leave, but he held me in place. “We’re not quite done yet, Ivy...” He stood behind me, almost too close for comfort. I could feel his rock-hard abs, his toned legs, the bulge in his pants, pressed against me.

I swallowed and sucked in a breath.

He lightly caressed my cheek, his hand moving to my chin, gently turning my face to the large paintings on the walls. My jaw dropped. There were erotic paintings of a man and a woman. I sucked in a sharp breath as I stared at the woman with long dark hair. I had long dark hair. My breath caught in my throat.

He leaned closer and kissed my ear softly. I shuddered. It was all too sensual. I could feel the wetness between my legs already. “This is where the sex happens, well, mostly...” he whispered. He trailed soft kisses down my neck. “Sometimes it’s by the pool, sometimes in the study, pressed up against the shelves...” He trailed off.

I was hot and bothered.

“Sometimes in the kitchen...” he continued. He held my jaw and slowly turned my head toward him. “But mostly here, in this room, staring at the mirror or the art—this is where I’d like to fuck you...”

“Wha...what?” I tried to move away, but he held me in place.

“I told you, this doesn’t help...”

I understood immediately when I felt him poking me from behind. I froze, unable to move. I hated my body’s desperate response to him. I was already soaking wet. “We’re not supposed to have sex, remember?” I asked in a small voice.

He chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest. “You should never sign a contract without reading the terms, love, never.”

The contract! How could I have signed it without reading it! I let him convince me. I wondered what other terms were hidden in the contract. “Asher...”

“Oh, I’m not going to force you to do anything, love, but I’m not going to make it easy for you to resist either,” he whispered softly.