
My Second Life to Tame the Don.
Chapter 2
The O'Sullivans had strict rules; the wedding night had to be spent in the main house of the estate.
That evening, I changed early into a red silk nightgown.
When I walked into the bedroom, Cade was leaning against the headboard with his eyes closed, resting.
He was bare-chested, his torso and arms a roadmap of old scars. His solid muscles gleamed under the lamplight, radiating a palpable danger.
This was a pure predator. I could feel the primal power coiled within his body.
I boldly walked over, intending to give him a hug.
The moment my fingers brushed his shoulder, he snapped his eyes open. The next second, his hand, hard as iron, clamped around my wrist, and I was thrown violently to the floor.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled, his voice a low growl.
"Cade, tonight is our first night as husband and wife." I endured the throbbing pain, forcing a pitiful expression as tears welled in my eyes right on cue.
I cursed him a thousand times in my head. To hell with him. I make the first move, and this is how he repays me? The audacity!
"And?" He rolled off the bed, his shadow engulfing me as he loomed over me like a mountain. His large hand, calloused from handling guns, gripped my neck tightly, his brown eyes pinning me to the floor.
"Let me make this clear. I'm not interested in… any of that. If you want to live, you'd better behave."
His grip tightened, choking me. My face flushed, my breath catching in my throat.
I had heard whispers about his temper. The Soldatos all said he was an emotionless killing machine.
In my past life, Celeste was beaten half to death and thrown out of the room on her wedding night, becoming the laughingstock of the entire family.
This was a warning, not a death sentence. It meant I still had a chance.
I managed to choke out, "Okay… okay… I won't bother you."
Only then did he release me, tossing me aside like a piece of trash.
Gasping for air, I started coughing uncontrollably. But seeing his impatient scowl, I quickly stifled the sound and retreated to the guest room.
From that brief encounter, I learned Cade was a misogynist to the core.
He was deeply distrustful of everyone and everything, especially women.
I would have to tread very carefully not to provoke him.
The next morning, he woke me by splashing a basin of cold water on my face.
"I need to use the bathroom." He stood at the door, issuing the order like a king.
"Sorry, sorry, I'll get out of your way immediately." I wiped the water from my face and scrambled up, a disheveled mess.
After he finished, he strode out without a single glance in my direction.
This was my chance. I rushed forward and grabbed his sleeve.
"Cade, my mother said she wants us to come to her house for dinner tonight. It's a family tradition. You have to come with me."
His brow furrowed instantly, and he looked at my hand with disgust.
"I'm swamped with family business. Can't you go by yourself?"
I placed my hand on his brow, gently smoothing the frown lines.
"Don't frown, Cade. It doesn't suit you."
It was an instinctive reaction. In my past life, I often did this for Vincent, believing that frowning brought bad luck.
"If you don't go, my mother will think I'm not valued by the O'Sullivans. You know this isn't just about my pride; it's about your reputation. As the future Don, you can't even manage your own wife, can you?"
Cade pushed my hand away. But whether it was my words or my touch, the frown left his face.
"Such a hassle. Women are nothing but drama."
He turned and strode toward the door.
I counted down silently in my head.
Three… two… one…
"Seven o'clock. I'll wait for you at the gate," he threw the words over his shoulder, never looking back.
Watching his retreating back, I smiled with satisfaction. It seemed my gamble paid off.
I had devoured psychology books in my past life, and now, they were finally proving their worth. A man as volatile as Cade couldn’t be confronted head-on; that was a fool's errand. The only way past his rage was to yield, then gently guide him, making him feel just a flicker of guilt.
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