Frost_Baby

She was nothing but a pawn in his ruthless world. A weak, fragile girl thrown into a cold-hearted billionaire’s arms.

When Elena Carter’s father’s debt threatens to destroy her family, she is forced into an arranged marriage with the most feared businessman in the city Alexander Blackwood. A man who sees emotions as a weakness, a man who doesn’t believe in love.

To him, she’s just a means to an end. A perfect, obedient wife for show. But behind the closed doors of his extravagant mansion, she is nothing more than his prisoner.

Cold words. Harsh touches. A world where love is a foreign concept.

But what happens when the monster begins to fall for his prey?
What happens when she dares to dream of freedom?
And what happens when she learns the dark secret behind their marriage?

One thing is certain when you play with the devil, you either burn… or become his obsession.

TRAPPED IN HIS GOLDEN CAGE

The storm let out a scream, but it was not just said to the head in a little breast in Elena when he was in Big Manor Blackwood Corridor. The hand dangled, trembling, taking the bag if he was packed. Was that it? It was his point of rest.

Couldn't stand there anymore. Not after what he had discovered.

Contracted. The cruel reality of their existence in Alexander's life.

Had no more than a mortgage. A temporary woman. A way for the end. The pain that realization had left on the chest was unbearable. Hera shut herself to believe she had something more after these constant universities; the rares are of the Gemmessia's gusta.

She wiped their rabid tears. There was no time to cry. With a deep breath of finality, she came to the door.

Their hard body.

The voice was weak. Dangerous and dark. She turned slowly, and there was Alexander Blackwood, his figure leaning against the large staircase. But there was nothing quiet in the storm in his midnight eyes.

The fear had cleared from her spine. She forced herself to meet his gaze. "Move," she said, her voice steady in a way that felt unfamiliar.

His lips curled into something that wasn't a beautiful smile. "And where exactly do you think you are?"

"Far," he said firmly. "A place away from you."

He pushed against the balustrade again and descended the stairs with slow and deliberate steps. "Far away from me?" His voice was quiet, almost mocking, but she knew better. A lion plays only with its prey before the final strike.

Elena took a step forward. "I'm done, Alexander. I know what it really is. The contract. The agreement. You have always intended to get rid of me once it's done." His voice cracked. "So why is it important if I go wrong?"

His expression darkened.

"This is not your decision," he said.

Her spirit flared. "The decision is mine! You don't get to decide, Alexander!"

The words had just left her lips when he moved.

In an instant, he was in front of her, his hands gripping her wrists in a steel-like hold.

"Elena." His voice was urgent. A prayer. A curse. "Let me go," he whispered.

Her capture had been tight. Their breath was difficult, unstable. She had never seen him like this so raw, so uncontrolled.

"Elena..." his jaw clenched, his solid body bordering on breakdown. Then, nearly broken, he asked, "Why?"

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "What do you think?" She locked eyes with him, fire in her gaze. "Because I refuse to be your longest Doll! Because I refuse to love a man who never saw me as anything other than an instrument!"

His whole body went still.

And at that moment, she saw—the cracks in his perfect facade.

But she didn't care. She broke free from his grip and ran.

She didn't stop.

She ran in front of marble rooms, in front of grand doors, in the rain. The cold seeped into her bones, but that didn't matter.

She was free. At least, she thought so.

Because when she arrived at the doors, an elegant black car pulled up in front of her. The door opened, and in the blink of an eye, she was pulled inside.

The second before the doors closed, she saw Alexander standing out in the rain, his pieces falling in her wake.

And in his eyes, she saw it rage.

Was not over. Neither near to.

CHAPTER 8