Hayden Harper POV:
I trapped her between the cold wall and my body, looking down at her. This woman, Alma Kane, was far more interesting and frustrating than I had ever anticipated. The exact moment she spoke those shameless words, demanding I take responsibility for taking her innocence, my traitorous body betrayed me. Her unique, sweet scent mixed with the lingering pheromones of our passionate night hit my heightened senses like a runaway freight train.
I shifted closer, my massive, sculpted frame pressing heavily against hers. The friction of my bare chest against her soft, bruised skin ignited a sudden spark deep within me. I could feel an immediate, undeniable physical reaction rising fiercely within me. I gritted my teeth, my jaw ticking as I ruthlessly suppressed my escalating desire. I couldn't lose control now.
"If it had been another man in this bed last night," I asked, my voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated deep through my chest, "would you have proposed to him too?"
She looked up at me, her blue eyes wide but incredibly resolute. "No," she answered, her heart pounding frantically against my ribs. "Because it is you, Hayden. I want to marry you."
I scoffed, a cynical, disbelieving smirk playing on my lips. "What? Did you suddenly stop liking your precious fiancé?"
She shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks flushing a deep, beautiful crimson as she felt the intense heat pooling between us from our extreme physical proximity. "I just... I prefer you like this."
I let out a cold, harsh laugh, clearly not believing a single word of her sweet lies. She was probably just having a massive, relationship-ending fight with that bastard Anders Diaz and was using me to piss him off. But deep down, in the darkest, most hidden corner of my guarded heart, I did not care. She was my sun. She could do whatever she wanted with me, even if it meant taking my damn life.
My mind drifted back to a terrifying hotel fire five years ago. I was trapped in the suffocating, toxic smoke, the intense heat scorching my lungs, fully ready to accept my grim fate. But then, through the roaring flames, a young Alma Kane appeared, risking her own life to drag me, a complete stranger, to safety. Growing up in a fiercely competitive and toxic family where everyone wanted to tear each other apart for inheritance, I had developed heavy defenses and a profound, aching loneliness. I was utterly astonished that someone could be so foolishly brave. That single, heroic moment sparked a lifelong obsession.
I had watched her from afar ever since, slowly captivated by this talented, kind, and resilient girl. I even secretly collected the design sketches she occasionally posted online and had my loyal butler, Bernard, commission them into real, expensive dresses. They hung in my closet, a pathetic, secret way of pretending she was already a part of my dark life.
But last night, when my rival sent her to my room drugged, the fantasy became a fiery reality. I didn't just hold her; I devoured her, claiming every inch of her body until the sun came up, leaving my marks all over her.
Of course, Alma knew none of this. She just kept a polite, almost guilty distance from me, treating me like a convenient business partner rather than a man who had just shared her bed and bared his soul in the dark.
"Get dressed," I ordered abruptly, taking a step back to give myself some much-needed breathing room, though my eyes lingered hungrily on her exposed, bruised collarbone. The sexual tension in the room was thick enough to choke on.
I walked toward the enormous walk-in closet, deliberately leaving the door open. I knew she would follow. Sure enough, a few seconds later, she appeared hesitantly in the doorway. I was choosing a tailored suit, deliberately letting her see the row of exquisite dresses—her dresses.
I grabbed a stunning white lace dress from the rack and tossed it onto the unmade bed. It was made perfectly to her exact measurements, based on a sketchbook I had ordered my men to steal from her months ago.
I watched her reflection closely in the full-length mirror. I fully expected her to be shocked, to instantly recognize her own brilliant work. But to my immense disappointment, her expression remained completely blank. She slipped into the dress without a hint of suspicion or recognition. The white fabric clung to her curves perfectly, highlighting the red marks I had left on her skin.
A bitter taste filled my mouth. She had completely forgotten her own designs, her own passion, probably ground down by years of serving that useless Diaz family. It stung my pride, but perhaps it was for the best. As her husband, I would help her remember who she truly was.
I slowly turned around. As I walked past her, I leaned in and whispered close to her sensitive ear, "I have a lot of secrets, Ms. Kane. Perhaps we can get to know them... after we're legally married."
Her cheeks flushed, and her breathing hitched delightfully. I picked up my car keys and spoke to her, still frozen in place. "Let's go. Any later and we'll have to wait in line at City Hall."
She snapped back to reality and hurried to catch up, her eyes fixed on my back with a complicated expression. I smirked, walking out the door. I couldn't wait to see how she planned to tear her cheating fiancé's world apart.
