The morning sunlight filtered through the silk curtains, casting soft patterns on the polished floors of Blackwell Manor. Yet no amount of light could soften the storm brewing inside me. Today was the day I would meet the orchestrators of my life's newest nightmare: the wedding planners.
I wasn't prepared for what awaited me in the expansive drawing room—a room that felt less like a cozy meeting space and more like a stage set for a royal event.
Two women, impeccably dressed in sleek designer suits, greeted me with wide, practiced smiles. Their eyes sparkled with excitement and something sharper—anticipation of the drama I was about to unleash.
"Ms. Harper," said the taller one, her voice syrupy sweet, "we are thrilled to begin planning what promises to be the social event of the decade."
I forced a tight smile. "I hope you understand this is not exactly what I envisioned."
The shorter planner waved a manicured hand dismissively. "Darling, with a client like Mr. Blackwell, there's no room for 'envisioning.' We make dreams happen."
Their words made my skin crawl, but I bit back my retort. This was their world, and I was merely a pawn. For now.
As they unfurled glossy brochures filled with extravagant venues, towering floral arrangements, and couture gowns, I fought to keep my composure. Each suggestion felt like another chain tightening around my wrists.
Meanwhile, whispers floated from the staff bustling in and out—glancing my way with a mix of curiosity and thinly veiled judgment.
"Did you hear? The billionaire's bride has no idea about the wedding."
"Bet she's just a trophy, a plaything."
Their gossip stung sharper than I expected. I was no plaything. Not to Dominic. Not to anyone.
Later that evening, I found myself alone in the library—a rare sanctuary filled with the scent of old leather and knowledge—when Dominic appeared, as if summoned by my thoughts.
He leaned against the doorway, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable.
"You're handling this well," he said, voice low, almost approving.
I looked up, meeting his gaze. "Do you think I have a choice?"
He stepped inside, closing the distance between us, the tension crackling like static in the air.
"I think you're stronger than you know," he murmured, his voice dropping.
Without warning, his hand reached out, tracing a slow line along my jaw, his touch igniting a fire that burned through my defenses.
"We're in this together, Lila. Whether you want it or not."
My breath hitched, the fierce battle inside me momentarily lost to the magnetic pull of his presence.
"Don't," I whispered, shaking my head, torn between resistance and something darker stirring beneath my skin.
Dominic's lips curved into a smile, teasing and dangerous.
"Don't what?"
"Don't make this harder."
His eyes darkened, desire flaring in their depths.
"Too late."