Aurora’s brows knit together, her gaze momentarily losing focus, lost in thought. I watch every slight movement she makes, each one feeding the fire burning beneath my skin.She’s still chewing on that goddamn lip.A sharp shiver rolls down my spine as her fingers absentmindedly rake through my hair, nails scraping lightly against my scalp. The sensation is brief but electric, sending a dangerous heat pooling low in my stomach.She doesn’t realize what she does to me.I should stop. Should put some distance between us before I lose all sense of control. But then she exhales, soft and unsteady, and my restraint snaps.I dive forward, capturing that glistening bottom lip between my own.Aurora stills. For a heartbeat, I think she’ll push me away, but then her lips part in silent surrender. I coax her deeper, savoring the warm, tentative press of her mouth against mine.She melts in my arms.A low, unbidden groan rumbles from my chest when she winds her arms around my neck, pulling me cl
The musty scent of hay and aged wood clings to the air, thick with dust and something darker—something that lingers in the corners of my mind long after I wake. The echoes of jeers and rough hands pawing at me fade as I bolt upright, my pulse hammering against my ribs. My wrists ache at the memory of being tied above my head. My own scream still rings in my ears.The sunlight spilling through the window is too warm, too bright, mocking the cold sweat clinging to my skin.A sharp knock at the door makes me flinch.“Aurora?” Chiara’s voice is gentle but firm. I don’t answer right away. I need a moment, a few deep breaths to steady the trembling in my hands before I can face the day.When I finally pull myself together and mumble an acknowledgment, the door swings open, and she steps in with a breakfast tray. Before she can say anything, Giulia breezes in behind her, all effortless energy and purpose.“There you are,” she sings, seizing my hand before I can protest. “Come, come, we have
Frustration prickled beneath Aurora’s skin as she made her way back to her bedroom. The day had been long, and the memory of kissing Lucian had surfaced at the worst possible moments, making it impossible to focus. Every time she tried to push it aside, the sensation of his lips and the way his fingers had tangled in her hair crept back in, unbidden. It was infuriating.She shoved the door open, already mentally preparing to collapse into bed, only to freeze in place.Lucian was sprawled across her bed like he belonged there. One arm tucked behind his head, his phone in the other, he barely spared her a glance before his lips curled in that familiar smirk.“Evening, principessa.”Aurora’s heart nearly stopped. “What are you doing in here?” she demanded, instantly suspicious. Their wedding was only days away—why did he keep showing up in her space like this?He shrugged lazily. “Chiara is preparing the guest rooms for incoming visitors. I figured I’d sleep in my own bed rather than end
Still silent, I obey.At my back when I stand.I snort a muted laugh, searching for the right words to offer him. But nothing comes.Lucian chuckles, depositing the flannel on the nightstand before circling to the other side of the bed. As he pulls back the sheets, I rise from my side, curling my toes into the plush carpet to steady myself after everything we've just been through."Surely, you're not actually going to sleep somewhere else?" he tosses over his shoulder, watching me carefully.I hesitate, pulling open the dresser drawer and selecting a soft pair of cotton panties. "I just feel a little... exposed," I admit quietly, slipping them on before letting the oversized T-shirt fall to my thighs.Understanding flickers in his gaze. He smirks. "Do you plan to speak ever again, piccina? I'm struggling to recognize you."My lips part, but I don’t respond immediately. I need a moment to remember how to bite back. Or even that I want to."Huh, I didn't think of that," he muses as I cl
LucianI stare blankly at the stack of papers on my desk, gripping an espresso in my hand, though I haven’t taken a sip in ages. The sun filters through the high windows, warming the dark wood of my office, but my thoughts remain tangled elsewhere. On Aurora. On the way she surrendered to me last night, her breath shaky, her body pliant beneath my touch.She fights me at every turn, but she can’t hide from herself—not really. The way she responded, the way she melted—Aurora might deny it, but I know the truth. She loves giving in to me.The memory stirs something deep in my gut, making it damn near impossible to focus. The numbers in front of me blur together, and I exhale sharply, rubbing my jaw. If I don’t get a grip soon, I’ll be useless today.A sharp knock at the door drags me from my spiraling thoughts, and I straighten as Nico walks in without waiting for permission. He drops a stack of papers on my desk with his usual efficiency.“I’ve got the reports on last month’s shipments
LucianThe sun slants through the high windows, casting long golden streaks across my desk. My espresso sits untouched, cooling in my grip. The documents in front of me blur together, the numbers meaningless. My mind isn’t here. It hasn’t been since last night.Aurora.The way she yielded to me, the way her breath caught in her throat, the way she trembled, not from fear—but from something far more intoxicating. She fights me at every turn, sharp-tongued and defiant, yet when she finally lets go, when she surrenders even for a moment…I exhale sharply, rubbing my jaw. I shouldn’t be thinking about this. About her.A knock at the door shatters my thoughts, and Nico strides in without waiting for permission. He drops a thick file onto my desk, launching into a report about security at the docks. I nod, listening without really hearing. My gaze flickers past him, drawn to the terrace.She’s probably out there.I need to see her.By the time Nico finishes speaking, I barely acknowledge hi
LucianNico huffs beside me, crossing his arms. “Yeah, I’m glad he didn’t get an invite.”I barely register his words. My mind is elsewhere. It has been all night.Aurora.The way she stood her ground at dinner. The way she kept her head held high, even when my mother barely acknowledged her. I should’ve expected it—my mother’s coldness, her disdain—but something about seeing Aurora on the receiving end of it stirred something sharp in my chest.Possession.Anger.Something I don’t want to name.I shake the thought away as we make our way upstairs. Aurora walks beside me, her fingers lightly brushing my bicep once, then pulling away as if she thought better of it. She hasn’t said a word since we left the dining room. I glance at her, but her expression is unreadable.Once inside our bedroom, she moves with quiet purpose, slipping off her heels, unfastening her jewelry, and unzipping her dress with steady fingers. She peels the fabric from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor be
Here's a refined, slower-paced version of your scene, with a deeper focus on emotion, tension, and atmosphere:---LucianNico huffs beside me, crossing his arms. “Yeah, I’m glad he didn’t get an invite.”I barely register his words. My mind is elsewhere. It has been all night.Aurora.The way she stood her ground at dinner. The way she kept her head held high, even when my mother barely acknowledged her. I should’ve expected it—my mother’s coldness, her disdain—but something about seeing Aurora on the receiving end of it stirred something sharp in my chest.Possession.Anger.Something I don’t want to name.I shake the thought away as we make our way upstairs. Aurora walks beside me, her fingers lightly brushing my bicep for the briefest moment before pulling away. Like she thought better of it. Like she caught herself before she could reach for something that wasn't hers to take.She hasn’t said a word since we left the dining room. I glance at her, searching for some sign of what s
The soft glow of lanterns bathed the grand chamber in golden light, flickering against the darkened windows. A heavy silence loomed, broken only by the steady rhythm of breathing. Kiara sat by the bedside, her hands resting gently over the cold fingers of the man lying before her. Verion’s chest rose and fell with a fragile rhythm, as if his very existence was hanging by a thread. Then—his breath hitched. A sharp inhale. His fingers twitched under Kiara’s touch. She straightened instantly, her eyes wide. "Verion?" A deep groan escaped his lips as his eyelids fluttered open. His golden irises, once sharp and full of knowledge, now held nothing but confusion. He blinked slowly, adjusting to the dim light, before his gaze settled on her. His brows furrowed. "Who... are you?" The words hit Kiara like a punch to the chest. Her heart squeezed painfully as she searched his face, looking for any sign—any trace of recognition. "Verion, it's me," she whispered, tightening her grip on his
A suffocating silence settled between them, thick with unanswered questions. The night air was cold, but Isabelle felt nothing but the burning weight of Collins’ words pressing against her chest. Bound. Trapped. No escape. The words rang in her head like church bells tolling her doom. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to stand tall. “I don’t believe you,” she said, her voice sharper than she felt. “I don’t believe in any of this binding nonsense.” Collins didn’t even look surprised. He simply tilted his head, watching her with something close to amusement. “That’s the thing, pookie. It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not.” The doors to the mansion creaked open. A tall man in a dark suit stepped forward, his face eerily blank. “Welcome home, sir. The preparations have been made.” Preparations. A chill ran down Isabelle’s spine. Collins turned back to her, his expression unreadable. “Shall we?” She took a step back, every ins
The soft glow of lanterns bathed the grand chamber in golden light, flickering against the darkened windows. A heavy silence loomed, broken only by the steady rhythm of breathing. Kiara sat by the bedside, her hands resting gently over the cold fingers of the man lying before her. Verion’s chest rose and fell with a fragile rhythm, as if his very existence was hanging by a thread.Then—his breath hitched. A sharp inhale. His fingers twitched under Kiara’s touch.She straightened instantly, her eyes wide. "Verion?"A deep groan escaped his lips as his eyelids fluttered open. His golden irises, once sharp and full of knowledge, now held nothing but confusion. He blinked slowly, adjusting to the dim light, before his gaze settled on her. His brows furrowed."Who... are you?"The words hit Kiara like a punch to the chest. Her heart squeezed painfully as she searched his face, looking for any sign—any trace of recognition."Verion, it's me," she whispered, tightening her grip on his hand.
A suffocating silence settled between them, thick with unanswered questions. The night air was cold, but Isabelle felt nothing but the burning weight of Collins’ words pressing against her chest.Bound.Trapped.No escape.The words rang in her head like church bells tolling her doom.She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to stand tall. “I don’t believe you,” she said, her voice sharper than she felt. “I don’t believe in any of this binding nonsense.”Collins didn’t even look surprised. He simply tilted his head, watching her with something close to amusement. “That’s the thing, pookie. It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not.”The doors to the mansion creaked open.A tall man in a dark suit stepped forward, his face eerily blank. “Welcome home, sir. The preparations have been made.”Preparations.A chill ran down Isabelle’s spine.Collins turned back to her, his expression unreadable. “Shall we?”She took a step back, every instinct screami
The Wedding TrapThe car moved steadily through the darkened streets, leaving behind the glittering lights of the wedding hall. Isabelle sat rigid, her breath shallow, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might crack her ribs. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run—but there was nowhere to go. Not yet. Not until she understood what Collins had done.The weight of his words lingered in the air like a storm cloud. The rules have activated, cookie.She clenched her fists. “Collins, if you don’t explain what’s going on, I swear I will make your life a living hell.”Collins let out a low laugh, rubbing his temple as if her voice was the real source of his headache. “You’re cute when you’re mad,” he mused.“Try furious.”“Try trapped.” His voice turned flat, void of the drunken playfulness from earlier. His dark eyes flicked toward her, and for the first time that night, she saw something cold lurking beneath them.Isabelle swallowed, but she refused to let him see her fear. “
Collins attempted to focus on her, his expression a mix of regret and defiance. "None of your business, pookie," he slurred. Isabelle's jaw dropped in disbelief, but before she could respond, Collins staggered up to the altar. The officiant, looking uncomfortable but dutiful, stepped forward to proceed with the ceremony. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..." the officiant began, but his voice was drowned out by the shocked murmurs of the crowd. Isabelle felt a wave of nausea and dread wash over her as Collins took her hand, his grip unsteady. She could barely focus on the words being spoken, her mind racing with confusion and fear. "Do you, Isabelle, take Collins to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live?" the officiant asked. Isabelle hesitated, glancing at the crowd. Her mother, Stacy, and Kelvin all looked at her with worry etched on their faces. She took a deep breath and n
The officiant nodded respectfully and stepped aside. Isabelle took a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. The guests began to move toward the reception area, their whispers a constant reminder of the humiliation she was enduring. She felt a mixture of relief and frustration, knowing that she had no choice but to wait for Collins' explanation. Vivian and the other family members stayed close, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity. Isabelle's mother and Stacy flanked her, offering silent support as she tried to navigate the emotional storm brewing inside her. "I can't believe this is happening," Isabelle muttered to Stacy, who gave her a sympathetic smile. "I know it's hard, but we have to trust that Collins has a good reason," Stacy replied. "And remember, we're here for you no matter what." Isabelle nodded, though the knot of anxiety in her stomach refused to loosen. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The day had been a whirlwind of emotio
Minutes turned into hours, and yet Collins never appeared. The murmurs from the crowd began as quiet whispers, but soon they grew louder, filling the grand wedding hall with a low hum of gossip and speculation. Isabelle stood at the altar, her heart pounding and her mind racing with confusion and dread. She could feel the stares of the guests, their eyes boring into her with judgment and pity. "What is this man doing?" Isabelle muttered under her breath, her voice trembling. She tightened her hands around the small bouquet she held, the knuckles turning white from the pressure. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a precipice, the ground beneath her feet threatening to give way at any moment. The grand doors of the hall opened, drawing everyone's attention. Isabelle turned to see a group of rich-looking people entering. They carried an air of authority and wealth, their presence commanding immediate respect from those around them. Two older couples and a middle-aged couple wa
As Isabelle stepped into the grand wedding hall, her eyes fell upon the variety of people who had gathered to witness her union with Collins. The hall was a sea of elegant dresses and sharp suits, with the scent of fresh flowers mingling with the faint hum of conversation. The decorations were breathtaking, a testament to the care and attention that had gone into planning this day. Her gaze drifted over the crowd, and suddenly, she spotted two familiar faces that made her heart skip a beat. Her mother, dressed in a beautiful deep blue gown, stood next to her best friend, Stacy, who was wearing a stunning bridesmaid dress that complemented Isabelle's own bridal gown. The sight of them filled her with a rush of emotions—joy, confusion, and relief all mingling together. Isabelle's eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't seen her mother or Stacy since she had been taken by Collins, and their sudden appearance here at her wedding was both bewildering and comforting. She had worried about them