Not yours anymore Mr ASHFORD

Chapter 1

I collapsed into bed at midnight, my body sinking into the mattress like a stone dropping into water. I hadn't even changed the moonlight-painted silver stripes across my uniform. The kitchen's spicy smell clung to my hair, mixing with sweat. My head spun from another day of fighting waves of nausea.

The soft tick of the clock lulled me towards sleep. Just five minutes of peace. That's all I wanted.

Then his weight crushed me awake. My heart slammed against my ribs as those ice-blue eyes found mine in the dark. Nikolai. My husband. My tormentor.

"Why aren't you ready for me?" His voice cut through the darkness, sharp as a blade. His hands gripped my hips, fingers digging into soft flesh. "How often do I have to tell you about the rules?"

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my throat tight. "I was sick again today, and work was—"

"Excuses." He ripped away my underwear, the fabric tearing. "You smell like a kitchen maid. Disgusting."

I bit my lip until I tasted blood, fighting back tears. Three years. Three years of being his unwanted wife, forced on him by his grandfather's deal. The old man's words still echoed: "You saved my life, child. Let me give you a good life in return."

Some gift.

Nikolai's rough hands moved over my skin, leaving trails of fire. His touch was punishing, but his lips sought mine with a desperation that confused me. He always did this – tore me down with words while his body claimed me like I was precious.

"Fight back," he demanded, his breath hot against my neck. "Say something. Curse me. Hit me. Don't just lie there like a doll."

"What do you want from me?" My voice cracked. "Tell me what you want, Nikolai. I'll do anything."

He froze above me, those piercing eyes searching my face. Something flickered there – doubt? Fear? Then his mask slipped back into place.

"I want nothing from you," he spat. "You're just a gold-digger who trapped me with my grandfather's ultimatum. Don't pretend this is anything else."

His words stabbed deeper than his rough touch. I turned my face away, letting tears slide silently into my hair. He was wrong – I never wanted his money. I just wanted him.

After, I lay watching him sleep. In these quiet moments, he looked almost gentle. The moonlight softened his sharp features, and I could pretend he was the man I dreamed he could be.

My hand drifted to my stomach, where our secret grew. The pregnancy test from this morning felt like it was burning a hole in my bathroom drawer. Two pink lines that would change everything.

"I have to tell him," I whispered to our baby. "He'll hate us both, but I have to tell him."

My stomach churned as another wave of morning sickness threatened. Or maybe it was fear. Nikolai shifted beside me, his arm thrown carelessly across my waist. Even in sleep, he held me like a possession – not precious, just his.

Tomorrow. I'd tell him tomorrow. Maybe the baby would change things. Maybe he'd finally see me as more than an obligation. Maybe he'd learn to love us both.

I touched his peaceful face, allowing myself one moment of hope. His skin was warm under my fingers, and he leaned into my touch unconsciously. For a heartbeat, I let myself believe in fairytales.

But hope was dangerous when you loved someone like Nikolai Ashford. And I did love him, God help me. Despite his cruelty, despite his coldness, despite everything – I loved him with a desperation that terrified me.

*****

The sun was barely up when I felt Nikolai's arm around my waist, heavy and warm. His citrus cologne made my head spin – or maybe that was morning sickness again. I tried to move, but he pulled me closer.

"Stop squirming," he growled against my neck.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." His arm stayed tight around me. "Why are you up?"

"Thought I heard knocking." My heart raced having him this close. Even after everything, my body still betrayed me like this.

"Ignore it."

But the knocking got louder, and I had to answer. I slipped from his grip, throwing on yesterday's clothes. When I opened the door, there was Ella with her fake smile.

"Good morning, dear." Her sugary voice made my teeth hurt. "Is my son awake?"

"No, still sleeping."

"Well, why don't you go make his breakfast? I'll wake him." She shooed me away like a servant.

I headed downstairs, my stomach in knots. Something felt wrong. Ella never showed up this early without a reason.

The kitchen was quiet as I fixed his usual breakfast – black coffee, two eggs, toast. Then I heard his footsteps, angry and heavy on the stairs.

"Did you enjoy yourself yesterday?" His voice was ice cold.

I turned around. "What?"

"Flirting with salesmen now?" His blue eyes blazed. "Is that what you do with my money?"

My heart dropped. Ella. Of course it was Ella. She'd been trying to drive us apart since day one.

"That's not true." My voice shook. "I would never—"

"Enough!" He slammed his hand on the counter. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying!" Tears burned my eyes. "Why do you always believe her over me? I'm your wife!"

"A wife I never wanted," he spat.

The words hit like a slap. "Then why keep me? Why not divorce me?"

He grabbed my arm, pulling me close. His breath was hot on my face. "Because you belong to me. No one else gets to have you."

"Nikolai..." I whispered. "I need to tell you something—"

"Save it." He let go and stormed out, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

I touched my stomach, where our secret grew bigger every day. "He has to know," I whispered to our baby. "But how do I tell a man who hates me that I'm carrying his child?"

Upstairs, I heard Ella's triumphant laugh. She'd won this round, but I couldn't give up. Not anymore. This baby changed everything.

I remembered our wedding day, how young and stupid I'd been. Eighteen and thinking love could fix anything. Now at twenty-one, I knew better. Love wasn't enough – not with Nikolai's walls and Ella's poison and all the lies between us.

But this baby... this tiny life inside me might be our last chance. If only I could make him see that I never wanted his money or his name. I just wanted him.