During the ceremony, I felt like an idiot, unable to tear my eyes away from my groom. Damn it! For the first time, I wanted to hug my stepsis! If it weren't for her impulsive decision to bail on the wedding, I wouldn't have ended up with such a fine-looking gentleman whose eyes tantalized the deepest part of my soul.

After exchanging vows, my new husband reached for the veil, lifting it slowly, deliberately, as if savoring the unveiling.

And just like that, I was exposed.

A wave of nerves crashed over me. What if he didn’t like what he saw? What if disappointment flickered in his eyes?

Then, he lowered his mouth toward mine.

It was brief—just a brush of lips—but it sent a jolt down my spine. My knees wobbled. My heart raced so fast I feared it might stop altogether.

Then he pulled away, his lips curving into a teasing smirk.

I blinked, still dazed.

"Did you say something?”

"You are pretty," he clarified.

Heat rushed to my cheeks because I wasn’t used to hearing a compliment.

I swallowed hard, barely able to process the fact that this impossibly handsome man was now mine.

My husband.

But I had a feeling no matter what name he went by, he was going to turn my world upside down.

.

His sharp gaze flicked to mine, amusement dancing in his eyes. He knew exactly what I was up to.

Heat rushed to my cheeks.

"Never mind," I muttered, pretending I hadn’t just embarrassed myself in front of my brand-new husband.

I scanned the crowd, searching for my father. But before I could find him, my husband exhaled a dramatic sigh.

I barely had time to process my thoughts before I heard my stepmother’s voice.

But then his fingers slid into mine. Warm, firm, possessive.

A jolt of something—excitement, maybe even joy—raced through me.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice softer than I intended.

“Home," he said smoothly.

My head snapped up. "W-what? Are you serious?"

His grin was all sharp edges and wicked amusement. "Serious as fuck."

I bit my lip, torn between horror and delight.

Before I could fully commit to the idea—or take it back—he had already set things in motion.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some guests hesitated that we were leaving too soon.

He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "Let’s go."

I barely managed to swallow my shock.

And for the first time that day, I felt a spark of satisfaction.

"Wait." I halted abruptly, turning to scan my surroundings.

A sense of unease prickled at my spine.

Sure enough, there she was… my stepsister.

She thought she was being discreet, but I could recognize her anywhere.

Still, I tore my gaze away and climbed into my husband’s car. The moment I sank into the leather seat, my entire body tensed. Because no matter how good-looking my new husband was, it didn’t erase the fact that he was still different from me.

And I had no idea what to expect.

My fingers curled against my lap as silence stretched between us. Then—

A jolt.

The engine roared to life without warning, and the tires lurched over something on the road.

Ryder hit the brakes hard.

For a moment, everything blurred. Then I froze.

My hands—oh God, my hands—were dangerously close to a place they had no business being.

Heat scorched my skin as realization struck. My fingers twitched against the expensive fabric of his pants, and my breath caught in sheer, horrified disbelief.

He smirked.

“You are really pretty when you are this close,” he whispered.

My head snapped up, cheeks burning. "Impressive speech."

His smirk deepened.

I bit my lip, my gaze flickering to his mouth against my will. The space between us felt charged, heavy with unspoken tension.

He leaned in, his breath fanning against my skin. Instinctively, my eyes fluttered shut, waiting for his lips to claim mine once more.

However, he pulled away, leaving me breathless and wholly, utterly undone.

I quickly straightened, trying to salvage what little dignity I had left—only to slam the back of my head against the car window.

Shaking off the pain, I turned my attention outside.

This wasn’t what I had expected.

“Where do you live by the way?” I asked.

“You will know very soon,” he replied, and then he drove away.

For the last time, I turned around and glanced at my hometown.

I swallowed hard as I watched the town fade into the distance.

My husband remained silent and his grip was firm on the steering wheel.

My hands curled into my lap.

"You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?"

He smirked. "I already did. You’ll know soon."

"That’s not an answer," I muttered, but he didn’t respond.

Minutes passed. Maybe an hour.

The second came when I spotted something in the distance.

At first, I thought it was a trick of the shadows, a distortion of the thick fog curling around the trees. But as we got closer, my breath caught in my throat.

Massive iron gates loomed ahead, flanked by stone pillars that rose like sentinels into the night.

"Wait... What is this place?" I whispered.

Ryder didn’t answer. Instead, he rolled down his window, pressing his palm against a hidden panel. A low, mechanical click sounded, and then, with an eerie creak, the gates swung open.

Beyond them, there was a grand estate.

The architecture was old, almost gothic, with flickering torches illuminating the long driveway lined with black roses.

My pulse pounded in my ears as he drove through the gates, the heavy iron slamming shut behind us with a finality that sent a chill racing down my spine.

As we drew closer, I could make out piercing golden eyes watching me with unnerving intensity.

"Who—" I started to ask, but the words died in my throat when he suddenly hit the brakes.