Chapter 6- Her wedding night

Isabella's mind was a storm of emotions as she left the dining room. She had offered Adrian a quiet, trembling "goodnight" and mentioned that she was heading upstairs, but he had simply ignored her, his cold gaze already averted as he walked away without a word. It was as if her presence was nothing more than a passing shadow in his home.

Back in her room, she closed the door behind her, releasing a shaky breath as she tried to process the day. She felt exhausted, yet she knew that her anxiety wouldn't let her sleep. She sank onto the bed, her fingers nervously twisting the fabric of her dress, thoughts swirling in her head. But a sudden knock on her door shattered her attempt to calm herself. She tensed, her heart racing, as she rose to answer it.

Standing in the doorway was the same maid from earlier, her expression somber. She avoided Isabella's gaze, as if delivering her message would transfer some of her master's coldness onto her.

"The master said," the maid began, her voice low and measured, "that you should prepare yourself for… the wedding night."

Isabella's heart dropped, the words chilling her to the core. She felt her chest tighten, her throat constricting as the reality of her situation settled on her shoulders like a crushing weight. The wedding night—words she'd once heard as promises of love and commitment, now twisted into a dark obligation under the roof of a man she feared more with each passing moment.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she forced herself to nod. The maid gave a curt bow before retreating, leaving Isabella alone once more. She stared at the door, the walls of the room feeling as though they were closing in on her. The room was lavish, beautiful even, but it felt more like a prison than ever before.

---

Elsewhere in the mansion, Adrian was in his own room, a stark contrast to the rest of the house. Shadows seemed to swallow the dim light cast by a single, hanging fixture. Every piece of furniture was black, from the bed to the dresser, even the ominous artwork that adorned the walls. The dark atmosphere reflected his aura—cold, unforgiving, and merciless.

He removed his jacket and shirt, tossing them onto a nearby chair as he approached his private bathroom. The bathroom, too, was an extension of his personality; black tiles covered the walls and floor, and dark accents lined the edges of the mirrors. He filled the tub with steaming water, slipping into it as he closed his eyes, taking in the quiet.

After a moment, he pulled a cigarette from a pack beside him, lighting it and watching the smoke curl into the air. As he took a long drag, the quiet allowed his thoughts to drift back to his new possession—Isabella. He felt satisfaction at how she had trembled beneath his gaze, how she had instinctively yielded to his control. He had no interest in love, no desire for the companionship of marriage, but having someone to obey him without question… that was something he would never tire of.

Just as he was finishing his cigarette, his phone rang, the harsh sound echoing through the dim room. He picked it up, pressing it to his ear with a look of mild annoyance.

"Yes?" he demanded, his voice a low, dangerous drawl.

"Sir," came the voice on the other end. It was Sebastian, his loyal aide and confidant. "There's been an… issue."

Adrian's grip tightened around the phone. "Explain."

"It's one of the men you requested to monitor the household staff," Sebastian began, his voice measured but cautious. "He's been caught… disobeying orders. It appears he's been spreading rumors—disrespectful, about you, and questioning your authority."

Adrian's jaw clenched, his calm demeanor vanishing as an intense fury burned within him. "And where is he now?" he asked, his tone deadly.

"He's been detained, sir. Awaiting further instructions," Sebastian replied.

"Take him to the lower quarters. I want him dealt with tonight," Adrian ordered, his voice as cold as the darkness that surrounded him. "No trace, Sebastian. Make sure this serves as a reminder to anyone who thinks they can cross me."

"Yes, sir," Sebastian responded before ending the call.

Adrian placed his phone down, his expression hardening as he rose from the tub, droplets of water trailing down his muscled frame. He wrapped a dark towel around his waist and walked back into his room, a sense of purpose guiding his every movement. Tonight was not only about setting Isabella's place in his life but also about reaffirming his control over every soul within his domain. Weakness had no place here, and neither did defiance.

Dressing in a sleek, dark robe, Adrian cast one last glance at the mirror. His gaze was as cold as steel, his jaw set in grim determination. He would show Isabella the boundaries of her new reality, and he intended to make sure she understood them without question.

---

Isabella was pacing her room, every nerve on edge, when she heard footsteps outside her door. She halted, her heart racing as she forced herself to stand still, her gaze fixed on the entrance. A moment later, the door opened, and Adrian stepped inside, his presence filling the room like a dark shadow.

His eyes raked over her, assessing, cold and detached. He closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing ominously. Isabella swallowed, her heart pounding as she forced herself to meet his gaze, even as her hands trembled at her sides.

Without a word, he walked toward her, his steps measured and deliberate. She could feel the intensity of his gaze, the predatory way he studied her as though she were nothing more than an object to be appraised. She forced herself to remain still, to keep her fear hidden, but she knew he could sense it all the same.

When he reached her, he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were a void, dark and unyielding, and she could feel the weight of his control bearing down on her.

"Remember what I told you," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with an authority that left no room for argument. "You are mine now. Your place here is not as my wife, but as my possession. Do you understand?"

Isabella nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, but she quickly brushed it away, not wanting him to see her vulnerability. But he only smiled, a cruel, mocking smile that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Good," he murmured. "Then you'll know what I expect from you tonight."

With that, he leaned down, his lips brushing against her neck as he whispered his intentions, his breath hot against her skin. Isabella's heart pounded in her chest, her mind reeling as she tried to steel herself for what was to come. She had known this moment was inevitable, yet nothing could have prepared her for the reality of it.

He was every bit the intimidating man she had feared—cold, calculating, and ruthless. Even tonight, dressed in dark, immaculate clothes, his presence seemed to fill the room with a chilling dominance.

Unconsciously, she moved back from him.

"Come here," his voice was a command, low and unwavering.

With trembling hands, she turned, moving slowly toward the bed. Her chest tightened as he watched her, his gaze piercing, taking in every nervous movement, every slight hesitation. As she stood beside him, she felt the weight of his scrutiny, her body instinctively drawing inward.

He reached out, brushing a cold hand against her cheek. Her breath hitched, and she couldn't stop the quiet whimper that escaped her lips. She saw a flicker of something in his eyes—a hesitation, a fracture in his usual stern demeanor.

His grip softened. "Lie down," he murmured, less harshly.

Isabella obeyed, lowering herself onto the bed, heart racing with fear and vulnerability. She expected his hands to follow, to pull her closer in possession. But as he watched her, her quiet whimpers, her shivering form, he seemed to pull back.