I'm Not Your Whore!

e handle. The night air was thick with tension, a silent omen of the life she was about to step into. Th

ing and unwelcoming. They swung open without a sound, revea

ulpted in contempt. His storm-gray eyes were devoid of warmth as th

voice was cold, detached, and f

ng to shrink beneath his gaz

let her in. "Of course, you didn't. That's what happ

ut she forced herself to remain composed. She

ence of luxury-marble floors, gilded chandeliers, and an atmosphere so

e, making her spine stiffen. "You are here to fulfill your end of the deal, nothing more. D

et his gaze head-on. "And what

His fingers brushed against her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. T

at," he murmured. "You belong to m

lsion. "I'm not your whore," she

musement dancing in his

knew one thing for certain-this marriage wa