Page 29 of The Serpent's Bride
I peeled the gloves off, looking at her reflection in the mirror. “Why is your hair not down?”
She didn’t answer, and my lips pressed together with dissatisfaction. I reached for her hair, and quickly undid all the braids she’d forced her glorious, silky blonde hair into. She stared at the floor, too afraid to fight me.
I didn’t have to tell her what had happened in the meeting, but I knew I would. I needed to say it to someone. Needed to hear it out loud.
I picked up a hairbrush and started going through her pretty locks, forcing myself to be gentle. If it were up to me, her hair would be fisted in my hands, and she’d be moaning my name right now. But I still didn’t want to force myself on her. I wanted her to come to me willingly.
“My father left me a problem,” I said, brushing her hair until it shone like liquid gold. “A big fucking problem.”
Chiara let out a short, humorless laugh. “Let me guess. You’re not getting enough money?”
I smiled. “You think this is about money?”
“What else would it be about?” she hissed.
I leaned in slightly. “Control, of course. Isn’t it always?”
That landed. I saw it in the way her posture shifted, just a fraction.
“Everything I should have inherited,” I continued, voice steady, “is locked behind a condition.”
She crossed her arms, eyes finally meeting mine in the mirror.
“And?” she said.
“And I have a year to meet it.” I put down the brush and ran my fingers through her glorious hair. “Andyou’re going to help me.”
She got up and huffed, a look of disapproval on her face. But she didn’t look away. “What is the condition?”
There it was.Curiosity.
I watched her for a second longer than necessary, just because it turned me on to make her deeply uncomfortable. I did my best to ignore my hardening cock as I delivered the blow that would change us forever.
“To inherit my father’s legacy, I must marry,” I replied.
It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was enough. The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp. Chiara’s expression didn’t change at first. Then finally, her eyes filled with fear. Slowly. Like the meaning was catching up.
“I don’t see what that has to do with me,” she said quietly.
“Everything,” I smiled. “You’re going to be my wife. Remember?”
Her head shook, once, like she could physically reject it. “I don’t care. Whatever twisted family issue you have, it has nothing to do with me.”
I stepped closer, and she stepped back this time. Hit the edge of the table behind her. Cornered. Again.
“It haseverythingto do with you,” I said. “Because I took a risk to make you mine. You fuckingoweme for getting you out of that house with your abusive father.”
Her breathing changed. Faster now. “I never told you Papa was abusive.”
I smirked. “You didn’t have to. Those bruises you try so hard to hide are proof enough.”
Chiara blanched, then tugged at the sleeves of her dress. As if that was going to fix anything.
“It would be more enjoyable for both of us if you stopped resisting,” I suggested. “I can make you feel pleasure you have never even imagined.”
She scoffed. “I sincerely doubt that.”
“Do you?” I smiled, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She stared at me, contempt in her eyes. “Didn’t you enjoy having my mouth on you that first night? I still remember how desperate you were. Fingers in my hair, pushing me closer.”
