A Forced Contract Marriage with the Devil novel Chapter 70

My Wife

I closed the door behind me with a quiet click, finally alone in my own space. My room feir smaller somebere, Colder. Like Alessandre’s plesner had followed me down the hall, ruling in the cones, seeping into the

Still clutching the folder, I staggered toward the bed and dropped onto it with a groan. Every inch of me protested, my legs stiff, my back throthing, mused. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever walk normally again. Not that Alessandro seemed to care.

The folder sat on my lap like a loaded weapon. I hadn’t even opened it yet. I stared at it, hands resting on the deck Black comer, my breath coming in shallow pull.

You can be something, or you can be nothing.

His

words echoed in my skoll, sharp and cutting. That was Alessandro. Always ching options that weren’t really choices at all.

I peeled the folder open.

The first page had my name on it; Nikolai Sorrenting typed in bold, impersonalities Beneath it, the logo of his luxury fashion house gleaned in glowy

It felt surreal.

Modeling. For him. For his company.

I flipped through the pages slowly, skimming the dense paragraph Terms. Conditions. Percentages. Image rights. Travel classes. Expectations.

And right at the bottom of one page: All creative control remains with A. Moretti & Associates.

Of come it did.

I let the folder fall to the side and scrubbed a hand down my face. I felt filthy. My skin sticky with sweat and soreness, and my pride scraped raw, Whatever this was whatever we were, it didn’t make sense in the daylight.

I dragged myself to the bathroom, preling off the cowel. Every step was a reminder of how thoroughly Alessandro had taken me. Claimed me.

I slammed the door shut behind me with more force than I intended. My reflection in the mirror stopped me cold.

I looked wrecked.

My hair was a mess, sticking to my forehead and neck. My lips were swollen. There were bruises on my chest, my collarbone, deep ones, shaped like fingers and teeth. Alessandro hadn’t just fucked me. He’d devoured me.

And I let him.

st part.

No I wanted him to. That was the worst

I turned on the shower and stepped in, the hot spray hitting my sore muscles like a slap. I flinched, biting back a sound, but didn’t pall away. I needed this. Needed to scrub off the memory of his hands, his mouth, his everything

But no amount of soap could touch the ache inside me.

I washed slowly, wincing with every movement. My legs were shaky, and the soreness between them was a brutal reminder of everything I’d let him da. Everything I begged for,

By the time I stepped out, steam had filled the bathroom like fog. I dried off and wrapped a towel around my waist, standing there for a second, grounding

myself

By the time I stepped out, wrapped in a new towel, I almost felt human again.

I pulled on loose, soft clothes that didn’t chade, ran a hand through my wet hair, and finally looked at myself in the mirror.

1/3

Still me. Barely

My stomach growled loudly, betraying mr.

I padded out of my room, walking a little better now, even

en if I still winced with ferry step. The hall was quiet. Alessandro was nowhere in sight.

Good

The kitchen smelled like something buttery and warm. When I stepped in, a few of the staff glanced up, hat quickly returned to their tasks. They didn’t im anything. Just slid a plate onto the marble counter, eges, loast, some kind of fancy fruit aangement and a tall glass of orange price beside it.

I muttered a quiet, “Thanks,” and sank to one of the stools, grateful for the silence.

Halfway through my eggs, my phone butred

A new message from Alessandro.

Dress

ing at 11. Your agent will call in ten

Fitting

No Are you okay. Just orders.

I stared at the message. en set the phone down beside my plate and picked up a piece of toast

I was already in it. Might as well see how far it went.

At exactly 10-58, a knock echoed through the house from the entrance door.

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