Total pages in book: 230
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, my voice hoarse.
She was a porcelain doll during the ceremony, a photograph from a magazine, a bride any man would covet. Now her cheeks are flushed, her lashes glistening, her chest heaving. She’s a goddamn wet dream. And she’s mine.
I pull out a silk handkerchief and wipe the tears from her cheeks. Then I swipe it over the swollen flesh between her legs. She flinches, still sensitive from climax.
“Thank you,” she says, shaky, breathless.
I don’t really know whether she’s thanking me for the compliment or the orgasm. Or maybe she’s thanking me for the money I’m infusing into her family’s business. Unease settles in my stomach. You don’t know who you married. I don’t know the details of her life, what she likes to eat or wear, but I know the essence of her. The core of her. She’s good and pure, and nothing that I should have soiled with my touch.
She doesn’t know who she married, either.
CHAPTER 5
Isabella
The reception goes by in a blur of faces and smiles. My nipples feel hard beneath the corset, my skin strangely tight. This is the same dress that I wore during the wedding ceremony, but my body feels different now. It’s like I’ve come awake.
Is that what he wants, then? Submission? Because it wasn’t so terrible, if it means Francisco licking me until I come.
But then—reprimanded.
I’m precise in my commands. Clear in my expectations. And firm if you need to be reprimanded.
I manage to say the right things—Thank you so much, you’re too kind. Of course you’ll be welcome at the chateau. I don’t know if that’s true. It’s Francisco’s home. Not mine. I’ve never even been there, but my clothes and toiletries are being delivered there while I dance. My books are being moved in boxes while I toss the bouquet. My entire life, delivered.
My feet ache by the time we wave our final goodbyes. Then I’m handed into the back of a stretch limo for the long drive. We could have spent the night in the hotel’s presidential suite. Could have had champagne and strawberries and a hot bubble bath waiting for us. It’s just a private elevator ride away, but I wasn’t consulted about the plans. I worked with Natalie on the ceremony and the reception. We picked out the flowers and the cake and the menu, but everything that came after, that was up to Francisco. And he wanted to return to the chateau.
I’d like to pretend it means something sweet, that he wants to spend our first night as a married couple at home. But part of me wonders if he simply does not want the wedding to inconvenience him more than it should. A single day spent in the city and a seven-figure bill. Oh, and a massive investment in Bradley Hotels. That’s all it cost to make Isabella Bradley his wife.
Isabella Castille, now. Tears prick my eyes, but I force them back.
“What’s wrong?” he asks from the shadows of the limo.
How does he know anything’s wrong? It’s too dark to see. “Nothing.”
“You miss your family.”
I’m worried about them, worried about what my father will buy without me there to stop him every day, worried about what my brother will ruin thinking he knows better. Worrying isn’t the same as missing them, though. I could have lived the life of a spoiled socialite forever, perhaps. If my mother hadn’t called me back to save the hotels. “It’s not that.”
“Someone was rude to you. One of the guests.”
“No, everyone was lovely.” I laugh a little to myself because I was introduced to so many people tonight. I will never be able to remember everyone. Though there is one person that made an impression. Francisco’s best man. “Your uncle was especially kind.”
“What did you two find to talk about?”
His voice is dry, but it feels like a deceptive calm. The water’s surface with tiny ripples running through it. “You, of course,” I say lightly. “Actually, he told me all about his farm. He had me laughing when he told me about the silly things the calves do. Including the one who got stuck in an easter basket.”
“He loves those little beasts.”
“I would have thought your uncle was more…”
“Serious?”
“Intimidating.”
He gives a soft laugh. “He’s plenty serious. And intimidating when you’re a little kid with a penchant for getting into trouble. He purchased the veal farm when I was twelve.”
That makes me blink. “Veal farm?”
“Don’t worry, my little vegetarian wife. They were supposed to be veal, but once he took over and saw their beady little eyes, he couldn’t do it. Changed it into a dairy farm. And after my parents died, he moved us into the house there. He thought it was better for me to have a normal upbringing after… Well, after.”
I take a moment to digest this. I knew his parents passed away when he was younger. “So he and your aunt raised you?”