Chapter 6

Isla wasn't sure if she was dreaming or trapped in a waking nightmare.

She had barely slept since the wedding. The suffocating weight of what she had signed up for kept her awake, tangled in her sheets.

She blinked, looking up at the ceiling. For the past few hours, shehad busied herelf with tracing every design on the damn ceiling in an attempt to bore herself to sleep.

Fed up, and possibly dehydrated, Isla threw the sheets off her body and swung her legs over the tall bed in her bedroom, before making her way to the door.

Her mind had been her companion, and was still her companion as she opened the huge door.

All she could think of, was the very handsome man that was now her husband.

Handsome but dangerous.

Now, as she wandered through the house in the dead of night, she found herself trapped in his world. His sleek furniture, his cold sophistication, his overwhelming presence even when he wasn't there.

Everything she saw, screamed of the man. It wasn't hard to know what his tastes were.

Except, he was here tonight.

Isla heard the door click open around midnight, her heart stalling as heavy, measured footsteps echoed down the marble hallway.

Adrian was back.

She had hoped, somehow, he wasn't going to be in the house over the next few days, or even forever. But she was sadly mistaken.

She tensed.

She had been avoiding him, pretending this marriage was something she could ignore.

But as she turned the corner and nearly collided with his broad chest, she realized—

Avoidance was no longer an option.

Adrian stood before her, his suit slightly rumpled, his tie loosened around his neck.

His scent, dark wood and something distinctly male, wrapped around her like a silent threat.

"Couldn't sleep?" His voice was low, smooth, sending an unwelcome shiver down her spine.

"I—" She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "I was just… getting water."

His lips twitched. "Liar."

Her pulse spiked.

Why was it so easy for the man to detect her lies? "I'm not lying." She managed.

Adrain scoffed. "I can see your cheek twitching fromhere, wifey."

Isla's hand instantly flew t her cheek which turned instantly red, adding salt to injury.

His gaze dropped to the silk robe barely covering her body.

Isla's breath caught.

She should have changed before leaving her room. Now she stood before him in nothing but thin satin and trembling defiance.

Adrian's eyes darkened.

"Are you testing me, Isla?"

Her skin burned under his stare. "What do you mean byt that?" she threw back, knowing fully well, what he was implying.

Adrain smirked. "I won't repeat myself."

She hated that his voice sent heat curling deep inside her.

"I don't need to test you," she snapped, lifting her chin. "I already know what kind of man you are."

His smirk was slow, taunting. "Do you?"

She should have turned away. Should have run back to her room and slammed the door.

Instead, she found herself standing her ground, her breath quickening.

To answer his question, she did. She knew men like him. Men who took what they wanted, without hesitation. Men like him owned whatever the possessed. Men like him consumed...

And then he moved.

Not roughly. Not forcefully.

Just close.

Close enough that she could feel the hardness of his body, the heat radiating from him like a brand.

"Pray tell me, dear wife. What kind of man do you think I am?"

Isla blinked. His voice was too soft. Dang his tone was to low. Too low and too soft that it swayed her a bit. "You know exactly what I am talking about."

There was no way she was telling him what she thought about him.

Amusement lit his beautiful eyes. "Do I?"

And then before she could do anything, like stop him, his fingers reached out, brushing over the delicate strap of her robe, sliding it down one inch.

A sharp, traitorous gasp left her lips.

He didn't push further.

Didn't force.

Just waited.

Like he was daring her to react.

Her pulse pounded wildly. "Don't touch me." Even as the words left her lips, Isla knew they were weak as fuck.

His chuckle was dark, knowing. "Oh, sweetheart… How naive could you be? If I really touched you, you wouldn't be saying that."

His words were meant to insult her. His tone meant to get a reaction from her.

And it did, as a fierce wave of anger and desire crashed inside her.

She should slap him, and walk away.

But her traitorous body refused to obey.

She held her breath as his fingers traced the edge of her collarbone, his touch featherlight, barely there, but devastating.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, hating how breathless she sounded. A thought formed in her head, one she tired so hard to stop, to deny, but found she couldn't.

She liked the feel of his fingers on her. Hated it, but liked it at the same time.

How eve, was that possible?

Adrian tilted his head, studying her. "Because you're my wife." His fingers continued their duty, teasing her.

"I'm your contracted wife," she shot back. Those words were not meant for just him, but her also. It was a reminder that she was not supposed to like his touch, or even wan him to touch er at all.

So why wasn't she moving aweay, or irritated?

His eyes gleamed with something dark and wicked.

"A wife is still a wife, Isla."

His hand finally dropped away, but the heat of his touch lingered.

He took a step back, giving her space, but his presence still suffocated her.

Then he leaned in, his voice a dangerous whisper against her ear.

"I wonder how long you'll keep pretending you don't want this."

A shiver ran down her spine.

Isla's nails dug into her palms as she forced herself to step away.

"I will never want you," she hissed.

Adrian just laughed.

Not a kind laugh. Not amused.

A laugh that told her he knew she was lying.

"Good night, wife." His voice dripped with challenge.

And then he left.

Leaving her standing there, breathless, burning, and utterly furious.