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She was different now!

Scarlett was more relaxed around me, more comfortable, softer, and more pliant. She no longer fought with me on the slightest chance she got, no longer spent hours in the garden thinking about her escape plan. It was almost like she was starting to come to terms with her new life, her new reality.

These days, whenever I touched her, she would often melt into my arms as though her body had finally accepted mine. We’d made love a couple more times since the night she gave me the best ride of my life. The way she moved, the way her hips ground over my cock, still replayed in my head every time I was alone.

Her sweet moans echoed in my mind, reminding me of the night Scarlett fully gave in to me with no restraints whatsoever. It was strange, considering this happened right after she’d met with her father in prison. I’d thought she’d need more time to let the incident sink in a little bit, but I was wrong. What she needed was a good distraction from the horrors she smelled and saw at the prison.

Perhaps she was only fucking me to keep herself busy—at least that way, she wouldn’t have to face the reality of her life. However, there was a part of me that believed I was more than just a distraction to her—more than just a dildo to scratch her itch every now and then.

Scarlett was brighter these days. She smiled more often and mingled with the maids more than she used to. Each time she looked at me, there was something in her eyes, something that I couldn’t yet name. However, one thing was certain: She’d slipped out of her shell, and in all honesty, I liked this version of her.

Her newfound freedom and attitude had somehow awakened something in me, something unfamiliar. I had no idea what it was, but each time I thought of her or set my eyes on her, I felt it swell up in my chest like a flutter.

These past few days had been the most peaceful in my whole life, and for the first time, I didn’t feel bored enough to mess with her. She gave me no reason to do so. Scarlett had been on her best behavior, and as fascinating as that was, it was also almost suspicious.

I hadn’t ruled out the fact that she was a master in the art of deception, so getting too comfortable was not an option. I still needed to keep my eyes on the ground and watch her closely. She’d proven to be the last person on the planet that should be underestimated. I made that mistake once; I wasn’t going to make it again.

However, in the meantime, I’d savor the peace and quiet she offered.

The best part of my mornings was waking up to her tangled under the sheets, her body curled against mine like she knew she belonged here with me. The sight was a wonder to behold, and it would never get old.

That morning, I sat at the dining table, the inviting scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. The rising sun filtered in through the window, highlighting the warm, honey-colored tones of the wooden table and chairs. The table was adorned with a stack of fine, white china plates and a few pieces of silverware.

Before me, a hearty breakfast spread was laid out: scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and toasted sourdough bread, sliced and buttered to perfection. A small bowl of fresh fruits—sliced strawberries, grapes, and blueberries—added a pop of vibrance to the plate’s freshness.

Scarlett had yet to come down, but considering what time it was, she must be awake already. So, I should be expecting her at any moment.

I ate in silence, feeling a sense of connection with the soft classical music playing in the background. The sound was calm and soothing to my soul, a melody that added to the serenity of this beautiful morning.

Ilya strolled into the room, his presence drawing my attention as he stood to my right, watching quietly. At first, I didn’t want to speak—I just wanted to enjoy my breakfast while waiting for my wife. However, his gaze lingered long enough, and I was curious to know what was on his mind.

“Do you have something to say to me, Ilya?” I asked without turning in his direction.

“Not really,” he said, clearing his throat. “It’s just that, uh…people are talking in the streets.”

“It’s the streets, Ilya. People talk,” I said, chewing graciously.

“Yeah, well, this time they’re talking about the O’Sullivan girl,” he said, his tone mild and teasing.

I paused for a moment, my curiosity piqued. “What are they saying about her?” I asked, turning to face him.

His lips twitched at the corners, his expression softening. “That she’s warming your bed…being your wife in every sense of the word. They say she’s the stolen bride forced to marry the devil.”

I scoffed dismissively, returning to my meal, unfazed by the rumors spreading like wildfire. Everyone was entitled to their own opinion, and I owed no one an explanation. The streets could say whatever they wanted about me; it wouldn’t be the first time, anyway. Besides, where was the lie in their assumptions?

“They’re also saying that Liam Callahan is the victim here,” Ilya added. “That he was beaten up—half to death—and forced to watch as Daniel Tarasov took his place at the altar.”

The mere mention of Liam Callahan caused my blood to boil, my grip tightening around the cutlery in my hands. The bastard was lucky that I let him live. I didn’t give a shit about the perception of others—how they saw him as the victim—but hearing his name was a reminder of what he did to my dear Alina. That was why I was pissed.

“Liam is irrelevant,” I growl, my eyes flashing with irritation. “I don’t want to hear that name again.”

Ilya hesitated a few a while. “Got it, Boss.”

Someone conspicuously cleared their throat from the entrance, their sudden appearance drawing my attention. “Good morning,” Scarlett greeted us, her voice soft and gentle. “Am I interrupting something?”

I was lost in her beauty for a moment as she stood poised by the door, her fiery red hair styled in loose waves that cascaded down her back. A simple yet elegant creamy dress hugged her in all the right places, highlighting her curves and contours. As she stared at me, her eyes sparkled with mirth, and a sweet, charming smile softened her expression.

“No. You’re not,” I said, finally replying to her. “Ilya was just leaving.”

He stepped away from me and headed toward the door, his head slightly bowed in reverence as he walked past her.

“You must be hungry,” I said to her, intending to start a conversation.

“I’m so famished I could eat a whole bear right now,” she said, a playful grin dancing on her alluring lips, which were painted a shade of pink.

I let out a hearty chuckle, my eyes crinkling at the corners as I watched her take her seat at the table across from me.

She uncovered her dish, grabbed her cutlery, and took a bite of her crispy bacon. “Hmm. This is so good,” she mumbled with her mouth still full, savoring the flavor dancing on her tongue before releasing a contented sigh.

The way she was so comfortable around me stirred something up within me. It was a weird and unfamiliar feeling, but I liked it.

***

Later that night, one of the maids delivered a mysterious package to Scarlett in her room.

I was standing by the balcony, gazing out at the starry night, when a knock on the door caught my attention. Scarlett, who was lying on the couch, reading a book, asked the newcomer to come inside.

It was the maid, Sofiya. “Good evening, miss,” she greeted, her voice soft and polite. “I found this in the mailbox outside. It has your name on it.”

Curious to know what that was all about, I looked out behind me, gazing into the room where Sofiya stood with a package in her hand. My eyes squinted, wondering what that was or how it got in here to begin with.

Scarlett tossed her book aside and sprang to her feet, rushing over to Sofiya. “Who’s it from?” she asked, her voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

“It doesn’t say,” Sofiya replied, handing Scarlett the box.

“Thank you, Sofiya,” she said, receiving the box.

The maid turned around to leave, and the moment she shut the door behind her, Scarlett set the box on the table, her fingers deftly unwrapping it. I walked back into the room, my brows knitting together to accentuate the displeasure on my face.

She opened the box and withdrew a letter, her eyes scanning the handwritten message with a palm over her mouth. Scarlett was so engrossed in it that she didn’t hear me approaching her until I yanked the damn piece of paper out of her hand.

“Hey!” She sprang to her feet, her glare at me. “Give it back,” she demanded, stretching out her hand in an attempt to reclaim it.

“What’s this?” I questioned, my blood boiling as I raised it above her reach.

“It’s none of your business. Give it back,” came her rude response as she stood on her toes, still struggling to reach the paper.

I skimmed through the contents, and my expression darkened, my brows furrowing. “I still love you. I promise I’ll get you out of there,” the message read.

It was sent by none other than Liam, and that only fueled my rage. I scrunched the paper in my fist and tossed it aside, hastily cornering her by the wall until her back was against it. She held my intense glare, unafraid and unintimidated.

“Why’s he sending you letters?” I demanded, my voice deep and husky, my face mirroring hers.

“Because he wants to set me free,” she replied, defiance sparkling in her eyes.

My features contorted into a frown as I leaned forward, my breath against her skin. “You still choose that bastard after everything?” I snarled, my eyes pinned on her like a hook to a fish.

She looked right at me and asked, unapologetically, “What if I do? What if I want him to come rescue me from you?” Her tone was tinged with a hint of challenge, as if daring me to do my worst.

My hand snapped out to grasp her neck as I leaned in, my face mere inches from hers. “Perhaps you need to be reminded of why you don’t wanna leave,” I said, my voice a low, menacing whisper.

My grip tightened around her neck, fingers digging into her flesh. A soft, enticing moan escaped her lips, and her eyes burned with desire. I watched her chest heave slowly, her anxiety building by the second. We glared at each other, the tension growing with each passing minute.

A loud gasp escaped her mouth, and her eyes widened in shock as I ripped the fabric of her nightgown apart. The sound was a slap, making her pause for a moment, the soft, rounded curves of her breasts exposed.

“You son of a—” Her words were cut short.

She was still talking when I sealed her lips with a kiss so fervent that she couldn’t resist. I fondled her breasts, squeezing a little harder than usual, fueled by the rage surging through my blood. Scarlett broke the kiss and shoved me away, her chest heaving rapid breaths. She glared at me, her eyes burning with desire, and that desire moved her to pull me back to herself, reclaiming my lips.

Our kiss intensified, tongues sliding into our mouths. Heads tilted to the rhythm of the passion coursing through us, igniting a flame so fierce that it left us breathless.

I pulled away, turning her around with her front against the wall. She shot her ass out and winced softly when I smacked her butt. My hand slid underneath the hem of her torn dress and yanked her panties halfway through to her knees. I withdrew my cock and pushed inside her pussy from behind.

A sharp gasp broke free from her lips, her soft purrs music to my ears. My fingers reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair. Scarlett’s breath hitched as a sound of pleasure escaped her while I pulled her hair backward. I drove into her cunt with relentless strokes, my palm spanking her ass.

“You think you can just leave, huh?” I groaned, ramming her as hard as I could, rage and pleasure rushing through my blood. “Answer me!” I demanded, driving my cock deeper inside her.

She cried out, her breath shuddering in ecstasy as my groin loudly slapped against her ass.

“You don’t like the way I fuck you. Is that it, huh?” I asked, my voice a thick grunt.

“Please….” Her words hitched, turning into a helpless whimper as I drove into her. “Please, Daniel…” she moaned, the sweet sound filled with need and urgency.

“Please, what?” I questioned, pounding into her with an intensity that left her breathless.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, a trembling whisper spilling from her lips. “Please, don’t stop.”

I slapped her ass and then gripped her hips, driving into her with raw intensity, each thrust deep and relentless. “Tell me, do you still wanna be rescued?” I smacked her ass again.

“No, Daniel.” Her voice broke into a breathy sigh, the sound laced with pure bliss.

“I wanna hear you say it,” I said, my waist grinding into her and my voice dripping with authority.

“I don’t wanna be rescued!” A sharp cry tore from her throat, raw and unrestrained.

“Atta girl,” I growled, pulling on her hair.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…. Daniel, yes, yes!” she chanted, gasping for air as her legs trembled.

The harder I plunged into her, the louder her guttural cry became. I let out a primal growl, signaling my arrival as I pushed further into her, my cock penetrating deeper and deeper. With a thick grunt, I filled her up with my essence, her throbbing pussy accepting every drop.

Spent, I pulled out, watching her legs tremble in ecstasy. Scarlett turned around with her back against the wall. Delight and satisfaction danced across her features as she stared at me, her exposed chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. My eyes roamed over her, the jagged edges of her torn dress only adding to her irresistible allure.

I drew closer, my finger brushing against her face. “You’re mine, printsessa , and you’re not going anywhere. Understood?”

She nodded in affirmation, still struggling to catch her breath. I sealed her lips with a harsh kiss that only lasted a few seconds before I pulled away, watching her gasp for air.

My gaze drank in her ripped dress, doing nothing to hide the raw sensuality beneath. She was a vision of elegance and wild temptation, casually seducing me to claim her body again.