Alexander’s POV “Did your father not teach you not to eye another man while your husband is standing right there in front of you?” I rake, tearing at her vapid blue eyes. Her lips parted and then her eyes fell to the tight grip of my hand on her wrist. I unplug my hand instantly. She rubbed on her tender wrist, her eyes milking mine. Don’t do that Angel; that’s not going to work on me. Answer the fucking question. “Would you rather be in Simon’s bed?” I drill her further, refusing to allow her emotional tantrum work on me. “No” She trembled, a teardrop leaving her right eye. Fucking soft angel, I curse under my breath. “Don’t cry” I command. Her cheeks flush, her jaw tightens, her nostrils flare outward and it is evident that a struggle was going on in her mind. Come on Angel, say what you want to say. “Are you jealous?” She rasps. I scoff and then laugh a little. I actually find it amusing that she would think she could muster the power to make me jealous. “You flatter y
Catherine’s POVThe rippling sounds of the shower continued as I laid still in the bed, feeling crudely unsatisfied, abandoned, and used; I felt worse than a whore, more like a hen ravaged by a cock in heat. Undignified. Not even a single touch, just a quick rump and it was over. But that's what you signed up for Catherine. He was explicitly clear with you; the arrogant demon was very clear; this is what you accepted.Fuck you Alexander Clifford! Fuck you for killing my fantasies; fuck you for making me feel this way; I scrambled to my feet with what was left of my dignity. I cringe at first when my feet touch the cold ground, convincing me to lay back in bed but I refuse. My dissatisfaction had transposed to rage, fierce rage and I could burn him if my eyes met him in this instant. I tiptoed, ignoring the warnings of the cold floor to fetch my dress, I wore it over my body as quickly as I could, timing the sound of the shower. I would kill him if I saw him, best I disappear while we
Catherine’s POV “I’m—I’m jus—-“ I stuttered weakly. “Get up” He commanded and my legs obeyed as if they had ears, as if they could see the frightening eyes of Alexander Clifford. His eyes reached for his blue robe before his hands snatched them from his bed side and clothed himself. He immediately took the ground, his tall fury towering over me. “What are you doing in my bedroom?” His breathy voice echoed as his fiery eyes struck fear into me. “It’s—o—our—bed—room” I stuttered “No!” He exclaimed, glaring at me. “This is my bedroom, you have your bedroom, down the hall. You will sleep there, you will wake there and you will not enter into my room unless I bring you here myself” My lips trembled with words that couldn’t seem to form. What the hell was he saying? I only stayed in that room because we were not yet married, now we are, what does this devil mean?! “But we are married” The words came out of my mouth like air forced out of a ballon and his eyes glared with irr
Alexander’s POVI struggle with the buttons on my shirt as I muttered curses under my breath at the mental picture of Richard Clifford. I had returned earlier than I was meant to, thanks to uncle Richard. He had thrown the first punch in this battle, I hope he was ready for how Alexander Clifford retaliates.“Hey baby” I hear Olivia Clarke’s scaly voice creep into my bedroom. I turn, and she is glowing in her little black dress. How did she know I needed her? I sigh, surrendering to her like she is water in a desert.“Who has gotten my baby so rumpled…huh?” She snakes her arms around my neck and I get filled with immense satisfaction. I inhale my usual dose of acceptance. With Oliva Clarke, I could be myself, my reckless, rugged self without a single care in the world.I draw her in so her relishing bosom grazes my chest. “Richard fucking Clifford thinks he can mess with me”“Oh dear…that fool, he has no idea who he is messing with….” Her finger begin a walk down my torso, her usua
Catherine’s POV After another unbelievably deafening quiet breakfast and Alexander’s usual vanishing. I took to the poolside; stretched out in my orange swim suit on one of the blue Chaise lounges lined up, reading one of the novels I had snuck into my bag after Lydia Kent re-arranged my things over a hundred times. You don’t need these things Catherine, you are going to be a wife now, it’s time to grow up—she said. Thank God I didn’t believe her. I had been taught that a woman’s desire for sex was to be controlled and managed to a reasonable extent so her suitors don’t think her to be lose. Growing up to see how women had been taught to restrain their desires and shamed for exposing them, even in marriage always made me feel different about myself. I couldn’t recall Lydia Kent start up any fire or exchange any romantic gestures with Dominic Kent. I often judged myself for my desire for the wild and dangerous. Sometimes I was even ashamed—a good Kent daughter, a good girl sho
Alexander’s POV I did not miss her neither had I questioned her absence all day. She had only popped up into my head for about five minutes at different intervals of the entire 24hours of the day and in all of those minutes, I had dismissed the thoughts of her decisively until now. Simon had just pulled into one of the designated gravel patches in expansive parking lawn of the Clifford Manor in the cold night after the sun had disappeared from the sky; the grass, lush and velvety under the moonlight. It wasn’t the flashing hazard lights that got my attention, neither was it his unusual swagger. It was her-Catherine Kent, bursting with giggles right next to his driver’s seat. Overhead them, from my bedroom balcony, my eyes narrow into the darkness, scrutinizing them as Simon gingerly headed to her side of the door, unfastening her seatbelt, carefully maneuvering her out of the car. He draped her unsteady body on one arm as he shuffled between shutting his door and keeping her on h
Catherine’s Pov I stir slowly, the soft bed caressing my skin, my mind swimming up through layers of thick fog. The dim light filtering through the white curtains painted the room in muted tones, and I squint, trying to make sense of my surroundings. My head felt as heavy as two giant timber logs tied together, and my mouth felt dry, like cotton. I shift, and my limbs feel heavy and uncooperative. I was not prepared for the shock that slammed my bones when my head made a sluggish left-turn. Shit! I exclaim inwardly, it’s Alexander! He’s here, at my bedside. His intimidating, devil-stare piercing into me. I could see invisible bullets shoot from his eyes, reducing me to a scared puppy. “You’re awake,” His crude husk drive cold shivers down my spine. I blink, trying to piece together the fragmented memories of last night, gently they flooded in; the bar, the loud music, the dancing, the drinks-too many drinks and Simon, yes Simon. My eyes follow his ascending form, his devi
Alexander’s POV “Catherine Angel Kent!” I exclaim weakly, my eyes constricting with concentration and shock at what I believe to be the legible gothic-like writings of Catherine Kent. I am stunned, mortified, suspended in sky-scraping shock as my eyes make swift zigzag shifts over the brown pages of Catherine Kent’s diary. Pages upon pages of sex; wild, dangerous, and many impractical notes of sexual pleasure. My head spins, engaging my raging thoughts. No Angel could create such a book. This surely couldn’t belong to her but why would she have it in her possession anyway? Sitting there by her bedside, listening to her soft breaths and tossing about different thoughts of how to punish her for her wayward behavior, I had wandered into her night stand; I don’t know what I hoped to find, but seeing the latched black diary laced with an aura of mystery; curiosity had propelled me to lift it while she laid unconscious. A knock invades the quietness of my study and the ruckus of m