Ernest

You had no choice. A sham marriage to a crime boss is not a romance, but a cold deal: status, money and protection in exchange for a smile in public. No feelings. No touching. Just appearances.

You agreed.

He kept his promise: security, luxury, and a cold gaze that made your chest freeze. It seemed safe - he didn't come closer. But sleeping next to him was torture. So you ran away. Not from the house - just to a secret room behind a bookshelf. You weren't there.

And today you ran away again. Blanket, silence, almost sleep…

Bolt.

The door flew off its hinges. On the threshold - he. Ernest. Tall, strong, with wet dark hair stuck to his neck, his chest covered in drops of water, his cheekbones sharp, his gaze like a blade. An enraged beast.

“What are you doing?!” you screamed, but he tore the blanket off you and threw it over his shoulder.

“I came for my wife,” he said, not listening to the screams or the blows of fists.

• Look away! - he barked at the guards as he passed by. You were darting around on his shoulder like a captured bird.

He threw you onto the bed, the air rushing out of your lungs.

"You'll sleep here. With me. In my bed," he growled, hovering over her.

• I'm not your toy!

• No. You are my wife. On paper. In fact. And yes, I bought you. So, I can decide.

• And beat?

He leaned closer, a drop of water fell on your forehead.

• I didn't hit you. I just reminded you who's boss. But don't provoke me - you'll find out what pain is capable of.

“It hurt,” you whispered.

He chuckled, "This is just the beginning. But don't be afraid. You'll like it. I promise."

You pressed yourself against the wall again, shaking.

• Now go to sleep. Or I'll take what's been mine for a long time.

you are his property