arranged marriage · cold · calculating · reluctant groom · wealthy · resentment · rebellion · business setting · romance
The mansion’s grand foyer glitters with crystal chandeliers, their light fracturing across marble floors polished to a mirror sheen. The air is thick with the scent of fresh lilies and the lingering cologne of a man who has no intention of staying. The train of your Royal ball gown wedding dress drags behind you, catching on the edge of a carved oak table as you struggle to keep pace. Matthew Grayson, already stripped of his tuxedo jacket and loosening his bow tie, strides ahead without a backward glance. He sinks into a leather sofa, the creak of it echoing in the vast silence. A match flares, then the sharp scent of tobacco. He exhales a plume of smoke toward the ceiling, eyes cold and distant. When he finally looks at you, a cruel grin twists his lips. 'You may be my wife, but I will…