Chapter 4 Good, Obedient Boy
Magnus’s expression darkened instantly, anger flashing across his features.
Harold burst out laughing, nearly choking on his drink. Gregory and the other two men laughed into their glasses as well, careful not to do it too openly—Magnus already looked dangerously irritated.
Sophia put the glass she was drinking from down and rose unsteadily to her feet. She reached out and grabbed Emma’s hand, tugging her up with her.
“This table is boring,” she announced flatly. “We’re leaving.”
Before anyone could react, she turned and started walking away, dragging Emma with her.
Harold stared after them in shock. “Leaving already? Wait—don’t go yet!”
But Sophia didn’t stop.
Harold jumped to his feet and hurried after her. “Sophia, I’ll drop you off. Where do you live? Let’s go together.”
Before he could take more than two steps, Magnus stood up abruptly and reached out, grabbing the back of Harold’s neck.
He yanked him backward roughly, forcing him down onto the couch.
“You’re drunk,” Magnus said coldly. “You’re not driving.”
Harold stared at him in disbelief, then tried to stand again. “I’m not drunk! What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t even finish one glass!”
Before he could rise, Gregory pulled him back down by the shoulder, while the other two friends leaned in as well.
“Sit down, man,” Gregory said. “Let’s drink. Where are you going? She’ll get home on her own. Stop chasing women and party with us.”
Meanwhile, Sophia and Emma walked out of the VIP area together.
The moment they stepped into the hallway, Emma’s phone rang.
Still slightly drunk, Emma pulled it out lazily and glanced at the screen. She froze.
The name Elias flashed on the screen.
Her body stiffened instantly. She straightened up and looked at Sophia with wide eyes. Sophia glanced at the screen, then at Emma’s face, giving her a slow side-eye. “You’re in trouble.”
With trembling fingers, Emma answered the call. “Hello…?”
“I just saw you at the bar,” Elias’s cold voice came through. “What are you doing in the VIP area? Who are you with?”
Emma’s eyes widened further. She let out a forced, nervous laugh. “No one. Who said I met anyone? I’m not even at a bar.”
“Where are you right now?” Elias said. “I’m coming to find you.”
“Shit,” Emma hissed, ending the call in a rush.
She turned to Sophia, panic written all over her face.
“This damn brother of mine—he’s really going to punish me if he finds out I drank again.
I’ve been going home drunk for the past five days.
He’s going to kill me this time.” She already started backing away.
“I’m running away first. Go home safe, okay? ”
Sophia waved her off lazily, already half-dazed.
Emma didn’t wait another second. She spun around and bolted down the hallway, heels clicking rapidly as she disappeared before Elias could spot her.
Sophia blinked, her vision swimming.
The alcohol finally hit her full force. Her head felt heavy, dizzy. She leaned back against the cold wall, closing her eyes briefly as the chill seeped into her skin. It felt good.
She tried to push herself forward to walk, but her legs felt unsteady.
Just then, a door nearby opened.
Magnus stepped out.
He watched as she stumbled, her body unsteady, her hand sliding along the wall for support. Before she could move farther, he reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Look at yourself,” he said sharply. “You’re so damn drunk.”
Sophia groaned and tried to yank her arm free, blinking up at him. The moment she realized it was Magnus, she struggled harder, pushing against his chest.
“Let go—”
Instead, his grip tightened.
He slammed her against the wall, caging her in. One hand pinned her wrist while the other lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him.
His eyes burned into hers, dark and demanding.
“Are you really going to keep fighting me?”
“Yes,” she said stubbornly, trying to push him away.
Magnus let out a frustrated breath, his eyes narrowing, but then he bent down and slung her over his shoulder.
She flailed, slapping his back.
“Put me down!” she slurred, her words thick from alcohol.
“I can’t. My mom will be upset if I leave you like this,” he said in a low, controlled voice, carrying her out of the bar.
An hour later, they arrived at Magnus’s house. The night was quiet, the maids already gone to their rooms.
Magnus carried her through the quiet halls, up the stairs, and into the bedroom before heading straight for the bathroom. Then, under the shower, he set her down carefully.
“Take a bath,” he said calmly. “I’ll bring you clothes to change into.”
With that, he turned to leave.
Suddenly, a sudden shower of cold water drenched him from head to toe.
“What the—?” he barked, spinning around to see Sophia, giggling drunkenly, her hand still on the shower handle, letting water rain down.
Sophia grinned up at him, eyes mischievous, still flushed from the alcohol.
“Sophia King!” he roared, his voice thick with anger. “You are really making this difficult.”
Sophia stumbled forward, suddenly closing the distance between them. Her arms slid up and around his neck, fingers hooking there as she rose unsteadily onto her tiptoes.
Magnus stiffened.
His hands reacted before his mind did—gripping her waist, fingers digging in as her body pressed flush against his. Every inch of him went taut, painfully alert.
Her unfocused eyes lifted to his. “Sophia… Graves,” she murmured, her breath brushing his lips.
Magnus went utterly still.
The sound of his name attached to hers sent a sharp tremor through him.
His grip tightened unconsciously.
“You and I are married,” she went on, slurring softly. She slipped one hand between them, tapping his cheek, then her own. “That means I’m yours now. So it’s Sophia Graves.”
His grip tightened around her waist. His throat went dry, heat flaring behind his eyes as he stared back at her. For some reason, he didn’t hate it. Not in the slightest.
“It’ll be Sophia Magnus Graves,” he muttered, voice low, eyes locked onto hers.
The name sat on his tongue far too easily. The shower continued to rain down on them, the water tracing lines over her face, her collarbone, the curve of her throat. He was acutely aware of how close his mouth was to that pulse.
Her expression shifted.
Just like that, the warmth vanished.
Her brows drew together, lips twisting. “Then I don’t want it.”
She shoved him hard in the chest.
Magnus stumbled back a step, shock flaring first—then irritation, then something hotter and far more dangerous.
“You—” he snapped, jaw clenching as anger surged up fast and vicious. “I should’ve just left you at that damn bar!”
“Yes, you should have,” she slurred, lunging forward again, palms flat against his shoulders as she turned him around and shoved him toward the door. “Get out. Now. Get out!”
Her hands pushed him past the threshold.
Magnus ground his teeth, stumbling out of the bathroom, his suit soaked, hair plastered to his head. He whirled to glare at the door, ready to give her a piece of his mind—but it slammed shut before he could act, leaving him seething.
He stormed toward the closet, yanked off his wet suit, and threw on trousers. With a towel wrapped around his shoulders, he mopped at his hair, dripping water all over the floor.
Just as he reached for the T-shirt he’d thrown on the bed, the bathroom door creaked open.
His eyes flicked automatically—and froze.
Sophia emerged, her hair still damp, clinging to her shoulders. She wore only a towel, which covered her chest and reached just above her thighs. Water dripped down her skin, glistening in the dim light. Even after her bath, her drunk eyes held that mischievous glint.
She stepped closer, holding his gaze. Magnus was rooted to the spot, unable to move, his chest tightening.
Then, without hesitation, she arched up on her tiptoes and kissed him.
He froze, shocked. For a heartbeat, nothing moved. Her hands slid to the back of his head, pulling him closer.
The next second, she shoved him back. The back of his leg struck the edge of the bed, and they tumbled together in a tangle of limbs and breath.
Before Magnus could recover, Sophia was already moving—climbing over him with fluid confidence. She straddled him, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his hips. Her gaze locked onto his.
Her eyes never wavered as she grabbed his hands with both of hers, pulling them upward.
His eyes widened as he tilted his head to see what she was doing.
Sophia had spotted the tie he had tossed aside and was now looping it around his wrists, securing him to the bed’s headboard.
He strained against the restraints, but the tighter he pulled, the tighter they became under her grip.
“How drunk are you, Sophia?” he rasped, trying to pull free.
She simply lowered her head, letting her hair fall over his chest, and leaned in again. Her lips brushed his, soft at first, then demanding. She kissed him, tongue slipping from his mouth down to his cheek, then trailing to his ear. His breath hitched, fast and shallow.
The more she kissed him, the harder it became for him to resist. Her hands wandered down from his arms to his chest, fingers tracing the lines of his body, pressing, teasing, igniting a fire in him he could no longer contain.
Each slide of her hands, each brush of her lips, stole his breath and held it hostage.
Sophia continued, sliding her kisses from his lips down his throat, across his chest, marking him with her warmth.
Magnus tried to hold himself back, tried to steady his breathing—but it was impossible.
Every movement, every touch, every whisper of her lips against his skin pulled him closer to the edge, surrendering to the intoxicating control she held over him.