The Tycoon's Unwanted Contract Wife

Annabel locked the bathroom door. She turned the shower on as hot as it would go.

She stood under the scalding water for thirty minutes. She scrubbed her skin, trying to wash away the memory of the contract, the check, the cold eyes of her mother-in-law.

She turned off the water and dried off. She reached for the modest silk nightgown Gregorio had thrown at her.

A sharp knock echoed from the heavy oak bedroom door out in the hallway. "Sir, Ma'am," a maid's voice called nervously through the thick wood. "Madam Eleonora sent this up. She insists you wear it tonight."

Gregorio let out a harsh breath, stalking over to the door. He slid the deadbolt back and opened the door just a fraction of an inch. He snatched the flat velvet box from the trembling maid and slammed the heavy door shut, sliding the deadbolt back into place. He tossed the box onto the mattress.

Annabel opened the box.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Inside lay a set of custom black lace lingerie. It consisted of a few thin straps and practically transparent fabric. It left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

Gregorio was leaning against the headboard of the bed. He saw the lingerie in her hands and let out a harsh sneer.

"My mother is desperate," he mocked. "Resorting to the tactics of a cheap brothel to get a grandson."

Annabel's face burned with intense heat. She threw the box onto the bed. "I'm not wearing this. It's degrading."

Out in the hallway, the sharp click-clack of Eleonora's heels echoed on the hardwood floor. The footsteps stopped right outside their door.

"Is everything satisfactory in there?" Eleonora's voice rang out, loud and probing.

Gregorio's expression hardened. He knew his mother. If she suspected they weren't consummating the marriage, she would direct all her wrath toward Kiersten.

He crossed the room in three long strides. He grabbed the black lace from the box and shoved it into Annabel's hands.

"Put it on," he hissed, his voice a low, threatening rumble. "Do not give her an excuse to ruin Kiersten's life."

The mention of Kiersten was a knife twisting in Annabel's chest. She swallowed her tears, stepped back into the bathroom, and shut the door.

Five minutes later, the door slowly opened.

Annabel walked out. She kept her head down, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, trying desperately to cover herself.

The black lace starkly contrasted with her pale skin. The sheer fabric clung to her curves, exposing the dark, angry bruises he had left on her thighs the night before.

Gregorio looked up.

His eyes locked onto her body. His entire frame went completely rigid. The air in the room seemed to evaporate.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. His breathing hitched, turning shallow and rapid.

He violently tore his gaze away and stared at the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides.

"You disgust me," he spat, his voice shaking slightly. He used the cruelty to mask the intense physical reaction tearing through his body. "I only want Kiersten. Looking at a woman who sells her body for money makes me sick."

Annabel's eyes filled with hot tears. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.

"Then turn around," she whispered, her voice cracking.

She walked quickly to the far side of the bed. She climbed in and pulled the heavy duvet all the way up to her chin, turning her back to him.

Gregorio reached out and snapped off the main light. Only a dim, amber wall sconce remained.

He climbed into the other side of the bed.

They lay back-to-back. A foot of empty space separated them.

In the dark, Gregorio's hand gripped the bedsheet. He squeezed the fabric until his knuckles ached, fighting the agonizing, burning need to reach across the mattress and pull her against him.