Marriage and First Night

Alexander's POV

Olivia was both my antidote and poison. I felt calm around her, but yet I hated her. I didn’t want the world to know I was marrying her, and I didn’t give her a girl's dream wedding. Instead, I capitalized on the disapproval of both our families—my mother took an instant dislike to Olivia once I told her I believed she sabotaged my relationship with Kira—and suggested we have a small courthouse wedding.

I told her, “We’ll be together. That’s all that matters,” and she smiled.

When the day of our wedding arrived, we went to the courthouse and met up with my sister, Lydia, and Olivia’s friend, Vera. But even though we’d decided on a small affair, Olivia still expected my mother to attend. When she asked why my mother wasn’t there, I lied with a smile, saying, “She had an emergency.”

We spent fewer than ten minutes at the courthouse, then signed the wedding certificate. No ceremony, no heartfelt vows. Just the standard fair, with a stingy peck when prompted.

Olivia’s family cut her off the day of our wedding. So we left the courthouse and picked up her things, then went to my family’s mansion. When Olivia greeted my mother, she rolled her eyes, then rose and exited the living room.

Olivia turned to me. “Did I say anything wrong?”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” I replied without care, then excused myself, leaving her standing there bewildered.

I went to my office and gulped down an entire bottle of table wine. Feeling a lightheaded, I left the office for my bedroom. Olivia greeted me. The side of my lip curled at the sight of her. Yet, I found myself tempted by her extraordinary beauty.

“You’re here,” she said with a smile.

I gazed at her coolly.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

Why was she pretending to care? Why continue with the act? Whatever. It didn’t matter. But I wanted her. So I strode to her without a word, grabbed her, and tossed her onto the bed.

“Ow! Alexander!” she cried. “What are you doing?”

She wore a simple bathrobe, its V-neck exposing much of her chest. A desire for her body that I needed to satisfy arose inside me. I stood at the foot of the bed and unbuttoned my shirt as she dragged herself up higher on the bed, staring at me with fear in her eyes. I grabbed her legs and pulled her toward me.

She let out a cry. “Alexander, please,” she begged.

“Shut up,” I commanded. “You’d disturb the entire house.”

I said the words, despite knowing my family wouldn’t care what I did to her inside my room, so her screams wouldn’t bring her any savior. I took the bathrobe off her and she had nothing on underneath. Made things easier for me.

Her body was gorgeous. My desire grew, but I didn’t aim to pleasure her. I was drunk, and her presence aroused me.

I climbed on top of her, and pinned both of her hands above her. Her struggles were futile against me. Her sobs travelled to my ears, but I ignored them. I was large and could tell by my difficulty in entering her that it was her first time. But I didn’t care. I had my way with her and pounded her to my satisfaction. Afterward, I pushed her off the bed and drifted off to sleep without a care about her. In my drunkenness, her little sobs didn’t bother me.

I knew one thing, though; I liked her body, and I wanted it all for myself. I had never felt like that with Kira. Yet, I ignored what that detail meant because my aim was to make Olivia miserable.

The next morning, I got out of bed and noticed the blood stain on the sheets, a confirmation that I was her first. A smile played on my lips. I loved Kira, but I hadn’t been her first. As I walked past the bed to the bathroom, I looked at the floor next to the bed, thinking I’d find Olivia asleep there. But she wasn’t there. I didn't care. I walked into the bathroom, took a shower, and found something casual from the closet to wear.

A short while later, I arrived downstairs and heard Mum lecturing Olivia about her duties.

Mum turned to me. “I hope you don’t mind, I gave your wife some work to do.”

“It’s fine,” I replied.

After breakfast, I asked a servant to prepare one of the guest rooms for Olivia, then returned to my bedroom. I found Olivia changing there. She had taken off her blouse but quickly covered herself when I walked in. I had already seen the scars I left on her body. It did hurt me, but it hardened my heart not to feel any pity for her.

She deserved it, I reminded myself.

Then I strode into the room and said, “I asked one of the servants to prepare a room for you. So get your stuff and move out.”

She said nothing, merely obeyed. After that night, it appeared she was scared of me.

Three days into our marriage, I started an affair with my secretary, Maria. She looked so much like Kira. Sometimes I even brought her home to stay with her in my room. Olivia’s room was just down the hall, so I was pretty sure she heard us in bed.

Occasionally, she tried to share how she felt about everything with me. She even asked for forgiveness in case she had wronged me in any way. I either drove her out or had sex with her. I love her body. Still, I constantly bullied her even though she made me feel good.

Through all three years of our marriage, she remained faithful, loving, and subservient no matter how cruelly I treated her. So I was shocked when she asked for a divorce. Vera must have talked her into it. I signed the papers, knowing she would come begging for me to take her back. Her parents had cut her off, after all. I’d also ensured she never got the chance to work. That was my way of keeping her by my side. Making her solely dependent on me.

She left the house shortly after I signed the papers that night. Early the next day, I got a call from Vera. I ignored it. She called multiple times, then eventually sent a text message informing me that Olivia had an accident and was in the hospital. I was worried about Olivia. Still, in my stubbornness, I replied, “She’s not my problem.” I couldn’t show weakness. Olivia loved me. She’d come back to me, begging. I merely had to wait.

Two months passed, and I wanted Olivia back in the house, but I wasn’t ready to admit it. Instead, I kept waiting for her to come crawling back to me. Eventually, I learned she had been discharged from the hospital and was staying with Vera. Secretly, I checked my phone multiple times, hoping Olivia would call. She never did.

A few days later, I went out with Maria and my friends, just to prevent myself from thinking about Olivia. We played a game of truth or dare, and one of my friends dared me to call my ex-wife “and ask her to come pick you up.”

My lips curled into a smile. I had a reason to call Olivia and hear her sweet voice again. Two months without her felt like an eternity, though I wouldn’t admit that to anyone, not even myself. I pulled my phone out and scrolled through my contacts until I found hers listed under Gold Digger. Maria looked over and saw the name I used for Olivia and laughed. I shot her a wink then called Olivia.

“Put it on speaker,” my friends said, and I did.

She didn’t answer the first call, so I tried again. After a couple of rings, her voice came on.

“Honey,” I said, “I am at a bar and dead drunk. Why don’t you come pick me up?”

My friends laughed.

“Where are you?” she asked, her sweet voice calming my spirit.

But my friends laughed at her question, and snapped me out of my moment. I couldn’t let them know how I felt about her, so I said, “Oh sweetie, you’re such an idiot. What makes you think I want you back?”

My friends broke into an uproar.

“Wake up and smell the roses,” I continued. “Stop dreaming. We’ll never get back together. I merely called you on a dare.” I wore a smug smirk, knowing Olivia would accept my harsh words and still try to help me. But then she surprised me.

“Leo,” she said harshly, “if you want to go home, go home and stop yelling at me.”

I froze, and my friends stopped laughing.

“Who the hell is Leo?” I demanded, then sat in stunned silence when she ended the call. My heart raced. It felt worse than when Kira left me. Olivia couldn’t leave me. No. She simply couldn’t.

But who was this Leo? Had she been cheating on me, or had she found someone else already? Was that why she never bothered to call me? Anger rose and pain flooded me.

“Dude, chill,” my friend said, obviously sensing my distress. “You two are divorced.”

I glared at him. “Divorce or not, she’s mine,” I growled, then stormed out of the bar, forgetting about Maria entirely.

“Alexander!” I heard her scream as I drove out of the parking lot.