Chapter 7
7
CELIA
T he car ride back to Gabriel’s mansion was tense, the silence between us thick and oppressive. I kept my gaze fixed out the window, watching the city lights blur past, too afraid to look at my new husband. My heart raced, dreading what would happen when we were finally alone.
And I also dreaded what would happen tomorrow when we went to the Obsidian.
As we pulled up the long driveway, most windows were dark. The staff must have been dismissed for the night.
Gabriel got out first, coming around to open my door. My legs felt heavy and wooden as I turned to angle myself out of the car.
He was ever the gentleman, even now. His face was an expressionless mask as he held out his hand to help me from the car. I took it hesitantly, my fingers trembling against his.
It felt so strange to hold the hand of a man who might well hurt me.
When he helped me rise, I came into the circle of his warmth and his intoxicating scent. His hand settled into the small of my back to guide me with him. My body heated, even though it was a mockery of affection, not real affection.
We walked into the house, my heels on marble echoing loudly in the silence. Gabriel led me upstairs to our bedroom.
Once inside, he closed the door with a soft click that sounded like a gunshot. I stopped, frozen in the center of the room, unsure what to do or say. Gabriel was so hard to read. What did he want from me? Did he want the dignified, competent wife that could stand as his queen? Did he want a submissive who would grovel at his feet?
I would be whoever he wanted tonight, if I could just figure out what that was. Pride was a lot lower on my pyramid of needs than getting through tonight.
Gabriel removed his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. Then he unknotted his tie, his movements deliberate. He laid the tie on his desk.
“So,” he said finally, his voice dangerously calm. “Would you like to explain what happened earlier?”
I swallowed hard. “Gabriel, I’m so sorry. It was a mistake?—”
“A mistake,” he repeated. His icy cool was somehow all the more terrifying. “That seems like quite the understatement. Kissing another man on our wedding day?”
“Please, let me explain,” I begged. “I was overwhelmed, I wasn’t thinking clearly?—”
“No, you certainly weren’t.” He advanced on me slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That you could make a fool of me at my own wedding?”
I backed away until I hit the wall. “It won’t happen again, I swear. I’ll stay away from Dante.”
Gabriel’s hand shot out, gripping my chin. “You’re right about that,” he growled. “Because if you touch that stupid boy again, I will touch him . Dante will pay the price. Do you understand?”
Tears spilled down my cheeks as I nodded. “I’m sorry, Gabriel. I understand.”
“Good,” Gabriel said, releasing me. He stepped back, running a hand through his hair. His face was always an implacable mask, but I felt a sudden rush of relief. He’d made his threat, and he seemed to have accepted my apology. I hadn’t even had to grovel. “Now, get out of that dress.”
I hesitated, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. His command was clear, and the authority in his tone sent a shiver down my spine, mixing dread with an unsettling thrill I was ashamed to admit.
“Gabriel,” I began, uncertainty creeping into my voice.
He narrowed his eyes, the intensity of his gaze holding me captive. “I don’t want to see you wearing a dress tainted by another man’s hands. I want to see you as you are, free from the lies.”
This was a power game, and I hesitated, trying to figure out the next best move.
When he took a step forward, his heated energy overwhelmed me in a way that both scared and excited me. “Celia, I am not playing a game with you. I will strip you myself if you don’t obey me.”
My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for the zipper but couldn’t unzip it all the way. He gripped my shoulder and turned me, and I held my breath, waiting for him to spank me like Luca would’ve. Part of me tensed in anticipation, part of me desired it. But he just unzipped my dress. Then he turned me back, and I raised my eyes from his powerful chest to those icy blue eyes.
“Continue,” he ordered.
I caught his gaze as I pulled the dress down, feeling the fabric slide away from my shoulders and pool at my feet. Beneath I wore some very supportive undergarments that had sucked in everything that could stand to be smoothed. My corset pushed my breasts up, but there was no denying that the bodysuit I was wearing was about as sexy as a wetsuit.
Gabriel’s lips twitched up at the corners, and I thought he was laughing at me. My chin rose, and I started to turn my back to him despite my best intentions to be whatever he wanted tonight.
“No.” His hand on my shoulder turned me back to him. His voice was a growl I couldn’t read. “Take that off too. I want to admire what’s mine.”
I bit my lower lip, but pulled it down, then stepped out of it, bared down to my bra and underwear.
When I managed to look up, his eyes were dark and heated. I’d expected disdain, but instead I found deep hunger written across his features.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice low and gravelly as he took a step closer. The atmosphere shifted, charged with undeniable electricity.
Unexpected heat pooled in my core, the remnants of shock slowly transforming into something unfamiliar but intoxicating.
“Come here,” he commanded, and I found myself obeying before I could think twice, stepping toward him as if pulled by an invisible thread.
He captured my wrist in his hand, pulling me close, our bodies almost touching. The intensity of that moment swirled somewhere between dominance and tenderness.
His free hand framed my face, thumb wiping away the traces of tears. His touch lingered, and I couldn’t read the way he studied me as his fingertips brushed over the curves of my face.
My breathing felt too loud in the space between us, rough and broken.
“Now,” he said, his voice deep and resonating through my entire soul. “Show me how truly sorry you are.”
There was no room for resistance. But what did he want?
His thumb brushed my lip. His gaze felt heated, even as his lips quirked up slightly.
“Kiss me, Celia.” He sounded amused, as if I were clumsy but charming in my cluelessness.
I leaned in, raising my lips to meet his.
When I kissed him, he didn’t kiss me back. Shame tinged my cheeks as I realized he’d made me kiss him so he could reject me, humiliate me, punish me for kissing Dante.
Then his hand was in my hair, and he was kissing me back.
His mouth was unyielding, his lips soft. The heat of his body seemed to envelop me.
His kiss was hot, fierce, and punishing. He didn’t hesitate. He claimed .
For a few long seconds, I forgot my plans and just gave in to the power of that kiss, to the overwhelming sense of him, touching me, dominating me.
Then slowly, I came back to myself. To my near-naked body pressed against his, and the rough sensation of his suit pants against my thighs. To the way I’d pressed into him urgently, seeking more of him. To my hand fisted in his expensive shirt.
As I came back to myself, I came back to uncertainty.
My mind felt blank as I tried to figure out how to please him.
He turned his head to kiss the corner of my mouth. “Open up for me.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant, but then he nipped my lower lip. I let out a gasp at the sudden sharp sensation.
My lips parting was all the opening he needed. Unlike at the altar, he devoured my mouth, his tongue sweeping into mine.
Gabriel felt all-consuming, as if my entire consciousness had tunneled down to just his lips on mine—his spicy scent, the faint sweetness of his lips, the muscle pressing my body.
My hands clung to Gabriel’s shoulders for support as my knees started to weaken. His strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me against the hard planes of his body, enveloping me in a cocoon of his dominance.
His lips were demanding, taking control with a ferocity that left me breathless. My heart raced in my chest, a wild drumbeat that pulsed through my veins. Every nerve ending in my body tingled with an urgency that was both frightening and exhilarating.
What was this? How could a man who was made of pure ice kiss me with so much heat?
Gabriel broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he stepped back slightly to look at me. His eyes smoldered with desire, but there was also a cold calculation in their depths. I knew he was holding back, maintaining control.
But it was hard for him, and that gave me a thrill.
“You’re mine now, Celia,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “Mine to protect. Mine to possess. Mine to punish. And I will not tolerate betrayal.”
I nodded, unable to find my voice with the storm swirling within me.
He stepped back further, releasing me.
I felt the loss of his warmth immediately, a chill running down my spine. He watched me intently, like a predator waiting for its prey to bolt before it struck.
“Undress,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. “Completely.”
My hands trembled as I reached behind me to unfasten my bra, letting the delicate lace fall to the floor. Gabriel’s gaze never left mine, his eyes burning into me as I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and slid them down my legs.
I stood before him, completely exposed and vulnerable. His gaze traveled over my body, lingering on every curve and line. There was appreciation in his eyes but also hunger that made me feel as if I might be powerful or prey.
“You really are beautiful,” he murmured, his voice softening slightly. “More beautiful than I imagined.”
Had he imagined me? I hadn’t thought Gabriel was interested in me, only in the strategic opportunity our marriage afforded him.
I wanted to touch him, to explore the strength of his body under my fingers, to kiss him again and feel that heat he kept so carefully bridled. But I held back, unsure of how to proceed in this new dynamic between us.
Gabriel seemed to sense my hesitation, and he stepped closer, his hands reaching out to cup my face gently. “You don’t need to be afraid of your husband.”
Don’t I , though ?
His touch was gentle as he traced the lines of my jaw and cheeks. I leaned into his hands, drawn to his warmth and strength. His thumbs brushed over my lips, and I parted them slightly, inviting him in.
He leaned down, capturing my lips in a soft, exploratory kiss that was a stark contrast to the demanding one we’d shared earlier. This one was tender, almost sweet.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as our kiss deepened. His hands roamed over my body, exploring every curve and line as if it were a sacred ground. I felt desired , and it was a heady sensation that had me clinging to him even tighter. His hand roamed my breast, then slid up my throat to squeeze gently.
Gabriel broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked down at me with a fierce intensity. “You’re mine ,” he said, his voice rough with desire. “Neither of us chose this marriage. But we will make the most of it.”
I bit my lower lip but nodded obediently. I wondered if he’d had any interest in kissing me before Dante did.
Gabriel’s grip tightened around my throat, his eyes never leaving mine. “Don’t think about him, Celia. He’s nothing to you now.”
I swallowed hard, trying to push Dante from my mind. Gabriel was right. He was my husband now, and I needed to focus on what my next steps were for my plans.
I couldn’t be distracted by these men.
“I won’t,” I promised, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m yours. I only want to please you.”
Gabriel’s gaze softened slightly, as if I’d said the right words. I saved that information for later, trying to piece together just how to win him over.
He leaned down to kiss me again. His hand slid down my back, palmed my hip. I moaned softly into his mouth, my body responding to his touch with a passion that surprised me. I rocked into him, wanting more of him.
Gabriel pulled away from the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. He scooped me up in his arms, and I fell against his chest, steadying myself with an arm around his shoulders. It felt strange to be naked and vulnerable when he was still dressed in his crisp, perfect white shirt, the first buttons undone now to show off his tanned skin and the hard planes of his chest.
He carried me across the room and settled me onto the bed.
I reached for him, but my fingers slid over his forearm as he pulled away, rising to tower above me.
He looked down at me with faint, contemptuous amusement. “You don’t deserve my cock. Not tonight. Maybe never.”
I stared at him as if he had just slapped me. He’d been so hot, then cold. Had I misstepped? What was my mistake?
“I don’t understand you,” I blurted out at his back as he walked away.
He reached the door and glanced at me over his shoulder. “You don’t need to understand me. You only need to serve me.”
The absolute jackass . I raised my chin, staring at him defiantly. He stared back at me, his eyes intense and cold and filled with challenge. I knew he wouldn’t stop first, so I finally dropped my gaze.
But not my determination.
He closed the door between us.
When he was gone, I got up and dressed in quick, jerky moments. I wanted to scream.
I’d serve to survive.
But if all he wanted was for me to serve, I wouldn’t soften for him.
When the time came, I would strike.