At the reception, the room was a dazzling display of wealth and power. Crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light across the gilded hall, and waiters moved like shadows, serving champagne to the elite. I, again played the part of the perfect bride, exchanging polite smiles and pleasantries with guests.
Rexhard stayed close, his hand possessive on my waist. To the outside world, we were the perfect couple. Inside, the venom between us simmered.
"Smile for the cameras, darling," he whispered, his voice dripping with mockery. "You wouldn't want them thinking you're unhappy on your special day."
I turned to him, my expression placid, and murmured back, "Careful, Rex. If I start smiling, you might think I've forgiven you."
His jaw tightened.
The moment was interrupted by the clinking of a glass. My sister, Sophie, stood at the center of the room, a champagne flute in hand. Her saccharine smile grated on my nerves.
"To the happy couple!" she declared, her voice sickly sweet. "May their love grow stronger with each passing day."
The crowd raised their glasses, but her gaze never left mine.
"Thank you, Sophie," I said, my voice steady. "You've always been so supportive."
Her smile faltered, just for a moment, but she recovered quickly, her saccharine grin firmly in place as she walked closer to us. I decided to return the favor, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
Raising my flute, I met her gaze with an equally sweet smile. "A toast to you, Sophie," I said, my voice carrying a razor-sharp edge. "Forgive me for marrying the man you'll only ever dream of having."
Her expression froze, the mask slipping just slightly as her eyes flicked to Rexhard, silently pleading for his support. After all, this was the man who had whispered promises of love to her not long ago.
Rexhard didn't even blink. His lips curved into a cold smirk as he took a slow sip of his own drink. Then, with the kind of brutal honesty that only someone as heartless as he could muster, he said, "You're as exciting as a wet sponge in bed, Sophie. Maybe work on that before you chase married men again."
The room seemed to freeze. For a moment, I couldn't help it, a small laugh bubbled up, and I quickly covered it with a sip of champagne. Sophie's face turned crimson, her mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.
"Oh, don't pout, darling," I added with mock concern. "I'm sure there's someone out there who finds mediocrity endearing. Just… not my husband."
Rexhard chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying her mortification. Without sparing her another glance, he grabbed my hand and started to lead me away.
"Let's not waste time on her, Samantha," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "The guests are here for us, not for my past mistakes."
As we walked off, I couldn't help but glance back at Sophie. She stood frozen, her pride shattered, sadly that was the effect of Rexhard Black, like he always did, breaking people underneath the personality he shows of being just a player with a smirk, I'd never forgive him, not even in my next life.
Poor Sophie. Neither of us cared about her.
But make no mistake I hadn't forgiven him. Not even close. And Rexhard knew it. Beneath the smug smirk and the air of untouchable arrogance, he could feel the storm brewing in me. He wasn't foolish enough to think he'd escaped unscathed; he just didn't know when or how I'd strike back.
He should have thought twice before doing what he had done.
We were a paradox, Rexhard and I. A perfect team when it came to tearing others apart, to ganging up on the poor souls unlucky enough to cross our path. We knew how to cloak our flaws, bury our vulnerabilities, and present an unbreakable front to the world. But to each other?
Oh, we did far worse.
The games had only just begun.
Rexhard had no idea what was coming for him. I told him I wanted to consummate our wedding night at one of my hotels, The King's House. Naturally, he agreed. Why wouldn't he?
The atmosphere between us had always been peculiar. We never had much to say to each other; our interactions were either tense or coldly polite. I was certain the only thing on his mind that night was having sex and going to sleep.
I walked into the bedroom and turned to him, my voice calm and measured. "Help me unzip and take off my gown."
Rexhard, who had been glued to his phone, perked up immediately. Despite the hatred he harbored for me, my body was a different matter entirely. Eagerness replaced his usual disinterest as he stepped closer.
I felt his hands fumbling with the intricate zippers and ties, muttering complaints under his breath about how "ridiculous" it was to undo such a complicated gown. Finally, the dress slid off, pooling around my feet and leaving me in a black one-piece lace outfit that clung to my curves.
His hands instinctively moved to my waist as he murmured against my neck, "Look at you, Samantha. Sporting a body this hot…" He trailed off, pressing soft kisses along my back. "At the very least, even if I hate you, your body is compensation in itself."
His lips began to linger, adding soft bites here and there. He was enjoying himself, I could feel it. Yet I never once turned to look at him.
After a moment, I moved away, putting some distance between us. Rexhard blinked in confusion, his brow furrowing.
"I'll just go drop the gown and come back to you," I said evenly, my voice devoid of emotion. "You can wait."
I turned and walked away deliberately, swaying my hips just enough to catch his attention. Behind me, I heard the audible gulp he couldn't suppress which might as well be a ruse, a show of deliberate vulnerability. "Monster" I muttered under my breath.
I entered the adjoining room, and there he was, my surprise. Are you shocked? Don't be. This was all part of my plan.
Standing before me was a man, tall and striking, with golden-blond hair and a boyishly charming face. He straightened as I entered, anticipation glinting in his eyes. I walked up to him, taking his face gently in my hands.
"Hmm, good. What a pretty face," I said, my tone light yet dripping with amusement.
From behind me, I picked up the collar I had prepared beforehand. The leather was polished perfectly, its silver buckle catching the light. I placed it around his neck with deliberate care, fastening it securely.
"You'll look perfect," I murmured, letting my fingers linger against his skin before stepping back to admire my handiwork.