All Chapters of THE CARETAKER BRIDE : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

“You don’t have to be afraid, Isabella. We have all night,” I said softly, the words tasting foreign in my mouth, as though reassurance wasn’t something I’d practiced much.Isabella’s gaze flitted around the room, landing on the closed door that separated us from the bedroom. “Do you think waiting will make it easier?” she asked, her voice tremulous but steady enough to hold my attention.“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But if there’s something that would help, just tell me.”She tilted her head, studying me as though weighing my sincerity. “If it felt like I had a choice,” she finally whispered.The words stung, though they shouldn’t have. I took a deliberate step closer. “You do have a choice.”Her eyes met mine, wide and full of something I couldn’t name. “Do I? Truly?” Her voice was barely audible, but the doubt in her tone was deafening. “Would you really let me decide?”I wanted to say yes. I wanted to mean it. But the truth? There were expectations, ones I couldn’t completely igno

The room was cloaked in stillness, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains and casting soft shadows across the bed. My throat was dry as I turned to her, struggling to find the right words for what needed to be said. It wasn’t exactly romantic, but it was necessary. “Do you take the pill?” I asked, my voice low and hesitant.Her eyes widened briefly, a hint of pink staining her cheeks, but she gave a quick nod. It was a small gesture, but it felt monumental. Relief coursed through me, though the awkwardness of the question lingered in the air. For a moment, I considered apologizing, but instead, I moved closer, feeling the heat radiating off her body as I positioned myself above her.Carefully, I guided myself toward her entrance, my body tense with both anticipation and restraint. As soon as I pressed forward, she flinched, shrinking back instinctively. I froze, frustration bubbling beneath the surface, but I forced it down. She wasn’t just some conquest—she was my

I had never been the kind of man who craved closeness at night. Even with my late wife, Gaia, I often avoided sharing the bed altogether. Not that she would have wanted it otherwise. Her disdain for my presence had been a constant, her coldness an armor she wore even when we were in the same bed. If she ever sought me out, it was only because she wanted something in return.But Isabella was different. She had asked for closeness, something Gaia never did, and I had denied her.The early light of dawn crept into the room, softening its edges, illuminating Isabella’s face. Her cheeks were puffed, her lashes clumped together, evidence of the tears she had cried last night. Somehow, in sleep, she had drifted closer, her body just shy of mine. I resisted the ridiculous urge to brush her hair back or wipe away the dried tears from her face. It wasn’t about desire—it was something deeper, more primal, and I couldn’t name it.Propped on one elbow, I let my eyes linger on her. She looked so yo

Faro shot me a wink as he bantered with a group of our Captains. I ignored it, keeping my focus on the double doors just as my mother and Isabella’s mother entered the room. Between them, they carried the sheet—a stark, unmistakable symbol of the night before. Without a word, they moved to the side of the room, draping it over two chairs like an offering to tradition.Beside me, Isabella let out a soft, choked gasp. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the color creeping down her neck. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth. “This… this is beyond humiliating,” she whispered, her voice trembling with embarrassment.I glanced at her, noting the way her gaze darted nervously around the room, desperate to avoid the knowing eyes of our audience. “It’s a symbol of your honor,” I said, my voice low and firm. “You shouldn’t feel ashamed.”Her lips pressed into a thin line, but a glint in her eyes betrayed her attempt to hide her emotions. “A

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My heart clenched with disbelief. “You can’t do that,” I said, my voice shaking.Sybil shot me a look, one that screamed silence. But Nicolas—he didn’t even acknowledge me. He was already moving, a calmness in his actions that contrasted the fury burning inside me. He gestured to Sybil as he poured himself a drink. “Clean up the dog’s mess,” he commanded, his voice dripping with indifference as he sank into the leather sofa, the amber liquid swirling in his glass.I stood rooted to the spot, my eyes locked on the tiny dog shivering in the November cold, its nose pressed against the window, helpless and abandoned. I felt a pit in my stomach—this wasn’t just some dog. This was life, and it mattered.“I won’t let it freeze out there,” I murmured, stepping toward the terrace door without thinking.“Don’t,” Nicolas’s voice cut through the air like a blade, commanding, unyielding. It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be. His words carried the weight o