Isla stared at her reflection in the towering mirror, her stomach a twisted knot of dread and disbelief.
The past few days, leading to this one, had been crazy.
The wedding dress clung to her curves, an exquisite masterpiece of silk and lace. The bodice was fitted, delicate off-the-shoulder sleeves framing her bare collarbones, while the long train pooled around her feet like a trap disguised in beauty.
The dress was perfect.
Too perfect.
Like everything Adrian Sinclair touched.
Adriam had spared no expenses in the wake of this treacherous marriage she was about to enter. Everything was expensive to a fucking fault.
Her fingers clenched around the bouquet of white roses, her knuckles turning white.
This wasn't a wedding.
This was a transaction, a contract, a cruelly orchestrated illusion.
One she had been forced into.
Isla closed her eyes ttightly, trying to reign in panic as her mind filled with so many different thoughts. She couldn't back down now. Adrian had made sure to make it clear that he eas going to end her, literally, if she were to ever back out.
A sharp knock on the door made her flinch. A second later, Natalia, Adrian's assistant, stepped in. Dressed in sleek black, she held a clipboard against her chest, her sharp eyes scanning Isla.
"It's time," she said coolly.
The woman didn't look like she was attending a wedding, which made the transactional aspect of the wedding more real.
Isla's throat went dry.
Her feet felt rooted to the floor, her body screaming don't do this.
But what choice did she have?
She took a shaky breath, lifting her chin, and walked toward her fate.
~
The grand hall of the Sinclair estate was filled with strangers in designer suits and diamonds, murmuring in quiet awe at the scandalous marriage of Adrian Sinclair.
There were no friends or family members waiting for her. No father to walk her down the aisle.
Just Adrian.
Shehad intentionally kept Sophie away from the wedding. Knowing her friend, she would do all in her power not to let her make such a huge mistake. After the wedding, the was she going to face her.
Standing at the altar, dressed in a tailored black tux, Adrian Sinclair exuded raw dominance and untouchable power.
His ice-blue eyes locked onto hers as she stepped forward, unreadable, unwavering.
A slow, suffocating silence filled the room as Isla forced herself forward, each step heavier than the last.
When she finally reached him, she lifted her gaze and met his.
Her voice was steel when she whispered, "I hate you."
She needed to make that clear, not just to him, but herself too. And she also had to take note of it too.
A slow smirk curled his lips. "You'll learn to behave, Mrs. Sinclair." His tone remained unfazed, so did his demeanor. Like he couldn't give a shit whether she hated him or not.
Which made sense bacause he already had her wehre he wanted her to be.
Her stomach twisted.
Mrs. Sinclair.
God.
The officiant cleared his throat, beginning the ceremony. Isla barely heard the words, barely felt anything as she stood beside Adrian, drowning in resentment and panic.
Then came the moment.
"Do you, Adrian Sinclair, take Isla Monroe to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
Adrian didn't hesitate.
"I do."
His voice was calm, absolute.
A shiver ran down her spine.
The officiant turned to her. "And do you, Isla Monroe, take Adrian Sinclair—"
"I do."
The words left her mouth before she could even process them, forced out in cold surrender.
She barely registered the sound of applause, the weight of a stunning diamond ring sliding onto her finger.
"You may now kiss the bride." The voice was distant. BUt she heard it, processing the word slowly. And what it meant too, registered slowly in her brain.
Isla didn't have enough time to prepare..
And suddenly, Adrian was pulling her closer.
"What are you doing?" She asked shakily, eyes wide, but she still forced herslef to remain composed. As composed as her nerves allowed her to be. She stiffened, her heart slamming against her ribs as his fingers gripped her waist, firm and possessive.
Was he really going to kiss her?
His voice was dark when he whispered, "Smile, darling. They're watching."
Her blood boiled, but she forced a hollow smile, her lips curving as the cameras flashed.
"We... we really do not need to kiss, like actuallly kiss, Adrian. You could just peck me on the lip, or position me in a way that would make it seem like we are kissing but we are actually not, You know what I mean.." The words came out in a rush, but she was panicking, and he was looking straight to her.
Maybe he would listen.....?
"Just shut up, Isla." Oh dear..
And then, he kissed her.
It wasn't soft. It wasn't gentle.
It was a claim, a warning, a promise of things to come.
A gasp caught in her throat as his lips moved against hers, slow, deliberate, controlling.
He kissed her like he had all the time in the world. Like he owned her.
Isla whimpered, trying her best not to respond, as Adrain kissed her like she had never been kissed before. Her eyes closed on their own accord in response to the softness of his warm wet lips against her.
Ohh...
Her lips began to part so she could kiss him back, when Adrain finally pulled back, his eyes blazed with something unreadable. Leaving her brethless and filled with regret for not responding quicker.
"You're mine now, Mrs. Sinclair."
The way he said it.. his tone... the look in his eyes..
Her cheek turned red instantly.
Isla's heart pounded violently as he took her hand and led her toward the exit.
There was no escaping now.
He had her where he wanted hser to be.
~
There had been no reception, nothing.
Adrian had simply lead her to a car which had been waiting to drive them the short distance to the main hous, like they couldn't walk ther on their own.
Maybe he didn't want to talk to any one.
She didn't either.
Her mind was still reeling form the event of the past few days leading up to this one.
Adrian had disappeared into his study after they had come into the house, leaving her alone in his world, his home.
Her fingers trembled as she traced the cold wedding band on her finger.
It was done.
There was no undoing it now.
She was Isla Sinclair.
His wife.
A sharp knock echoed behind her.
She turned, and froze.
Adrian leaned against the doorway, his tie loosened, his jacket discarded. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing tan skin and hard muscle.
Her pulse stuttered.
He studied her in silence, his gaze flicking to the bare ring finger on her right hand.
His jaw ticked. "Put the ring on properly."
She swallowed. "I—"
Adrian stepped forward, his presence commanding, suffocating.
"I won't tell you twice, Isla." His voice was velvet, but there was a threat beneath it.
Her fingers shook as she slipped the ring onto her left hand.
Adrian's lips curved into a slow, satisfied smirk.
Then, to her absolute shock, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. A soft, lingering kiss that sent instant shivers up her arm and all over her body.
"Good girl."
A shiver ran down her spine.
Before she could react, he turned and walked toward the bedroom.
"I'll be gone before you wake up," he said lazily. "I have meetings in London."
Relief flooded through her.
But then, just as he reached the door, he paused.
Without looking back, he murmured, "Don't test me, Isla."
Her breath caught.
And then he was gone.
Leaving her alone in his world, his home, his trap.
For one whole year.