Trapped By The Cold Billionaire Heir

Wren sat in front of the vintage vanity mirror inside the bridal suite of St. Patrick's Cathedral. Three stylists hovered around her. They pulled and pinned her blonde hair, forcing a heavy, diamond-encrusted tiara onto her head. The metal dug into her scalp.

The custom lace wedding dress was pulled so tight around her ribs she had to take shallow, rapid breaths. She reached up and yanked at the high lace collar, her fingers trembling.

The door opened. Her mother, Eleanor, walked in. Her eyes were red and swollen. She held a velvet box. She walked up behind Wren and clasped a heavy sapphire necklace around her neck. The stones felt like ice against Wren's collarbone.

Eleanor let out a quiet sob. She whispered an apology, her hands shaking as she touched Wren's shoulders.

Wren swallowed the hard lump in her throat. She reached up and grabbed her mother's hand. She squeezed it hard. She forced her voice to stay flat and told her it was just a business transaction.

A deep, loud bell rang from the bell tower. The sound vibrated through the floorboards. Arthur, the Ainsworth family butler, knocked twice on the door and announced it was time.

Wren stood up. She took a deep breath, forcing her lungs to expand against the tight corset. She locked her jaw. She wiped all the fear from her face, replacing it with a blank, perfect smile.

The heavy wooden doors of the cathedral slowly pulled open. A blinding wall of white light hit her face. Hundreds of camera flashes exploded at once. Wren narrowed her eyes against the sting.

She wrapped her hand around Harold's arm. She stepped onto the thick carpet of white rose petals. The loud, vibrating chords of the pipe organ filled the massive church.

Wren looked straight ahead. At the end of the long aisle stood Pierce. He wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo.

He turned to face her. His lips were curved into a handsome smile, but his dark eyes were completely dead. They looked like frozen glass.

Harold stopped at the altar. He took Wren's hand and placed it into Pierce's.

Pierce's palm was freezing. The second his fingers wrapped around hers, he squeezed. He squeezed so hard her knuckles ground together.

A sharp pain shot up Wren's arm. She kept her smile perfectly frozen for the cameras. She curled her fingers inward and dug her sharp acrylic nails directly into the back of Pierce's hand.

They stood side by side in front of the priest. The cameras clicked frantically from the pews, capturing the fake perfection.

The priest began reading the vows. The words echoed off the high stone ceiling. Wren felt sick to her stomach.

It was Pierce's turn. He turned his body toward her. He looked deeply into her eyes. He leaned in close, his lips almost brushing her ear.

He whispered that if she messed up this photo op, he would tank Vance stock before lunch tomorrow.

Wren ground her teeth together. Her jaw ached. She tilted her chin up, looked him dead in the eye, and said "I do" loud enough for the entire church to hear.

The best man handed Pierce the ring. Pierce grabbed the massive diamond. He shoved it onto Wren's ring finger. The size of the ring was completely flawless, tailored perfectly by his team, yet he treated it like a weapon. He shoved it down her finger like he was locking a prisoner in iron shackles. He pushed it violently, slamming the hard metal band against the base of her finger with a sharp, stinging pain that radiated up her arm.

Wren sucked in a sharp breath through her nose. She grabbed his gold band. She shoved it onto his finger with as much force as she could manage, hoping it hurt.

The priest smiled and told Pierce he could kiss the bride.

The entire church went completely silent. Pierce stepped forward. He raised his hand and wrapped his fingers around the back of Wren's neck. His grip was like a steel vice, locking her head in place so she couldn't pull away.

He crashed his mouth down onto hers. His lips were hard and cold. There was no softness, only a brutal assertion of control.

The sharp scent of cedar and expensive cologne filled Wren's nose. Her stomach rolled with intense nausea. She kept her hands clenched in the fabric of her dress.

The camera flashes reached a blinding peak. Pierce pulled back. He raised his hand and gently tucked a stray blonde hair behind her ear.

Wren immediately turned her head, breaking the contact. She faced the crowd and stretched her lips into a painful smile.

They turned around. The crowd erupted into applause. Underneath the massive skirt of her dress, Wren stepped away from him, leaving a foot of space between their bodies.

As they walked down the steps of the altar, Wren shifted her weight. She brought the sharp heel of her shoe down hard onto the top of Pierce's leather shoe.

Pierce's jaw twitched. A tiny muscle feathered in his cheek.

They reached the heavy doors. The wood slammed shut behind them, cutting off the noise and the cameras. Instantly, the smiles vanished from both of their faces.