The days that followed were a whirlwind. Bryce's mother, delighted beyond words, threw herself into the preparations for the wedding. Tailors, florists, and decorators flooded the estate, while Bryce and Kasmine were swept into meeting after meeting.
Though it was exciting, Kasmine couldn't help but remind herself quietly—this was still a contract marriage. She had to keep her heart in check, no matter how warmly she was treated.
One evening, Bryce surprised her by sitting beside her in the study with a notebook.
"What kind of wedding gown would you like, Kasmine?" he asked, his tone soft, his eyes fixed on her.
She blinked, startled by the question. No one had ever cared about what she wanted before. After a shy pause, she whispered, "Blue. I've always dreamed of a blue gown… something unique, something that feels like me."
Bryce studied her expression for a moment, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Blue it is."
Kasmine shook her head quickly. "But your family… tradition usually says white. You don't have to—"
He silenced her worries by gently placing his hand over hers. "If it's your dream, then it's mine too. You'll have exactly what you want."
Her chest tightened at his words. She reminded herself again—don't forget, it's still a contract. But deep down, a small flicker of warmth she couldn't control had already started to grow.
That night, while she lay awake in her room, she realized that for the first time in her life, someone was giving her more than just duty—they were giving her choice.
And that made the wedding feel less like a contract, and more like a dream.
The morning of the wedding arrived faster than Kasmine ever imagined. The entire estate buzzed with activity before the sun had fully risen—stylists, decorators, and servants moving about like clockwork. Every corner was filled with flowers and satin ribbons, every detail perfected under Bryce's mother's careful eye.
But for Kasmine, time seemed to slow.
She sat quietly before the full-length mirror in her room, hardly recognizing the woman reflected back at her. The gown was breathtaking—silk the shade of midnight blue that shimmered with every movement, its bodice embroidered with silver threads that caught the light like stars. The veil was delicate, sheer lace brushing over her shoulders.
She had dreamed of a blue dress all her life, but she never imagined it would be this beautiful. Never imagined she would wear it at all.
Her hands trembled in her lap. This is real. I'm about to marry him.
A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. It opened to reveal Bryce's mother, her elegant figure framed in the doorway. She stepped inside, her eyes softening as they landed on Kasmine.
"My dear, you look radiant," she whispered, clasping Kasmine's hands. "Bryce will be speechless when he sees you."
Kasmine's throat tightened. She forced a smile, nodding, though her heart felt heavy with a strange mix of dread and anticipation. She was grateful—more than grateful—but the reminder lingered. It's still a contract. Just one year. Don't forget.
Moments later, a procession of cars carried them to the grand cathedral where the ceremony would take place. The church loomed tall and magnificent, its stone walls kissed by sunlight, the great bells tolling overhead as guests in gowns and tuxedos filled the pews.
Kasmine's breath hitched as she stepped out of the car. Flashbulbs from discreet photographers glimmered like stars as whispers rippled through the crowd: That's her… Bryce Stone's bride… the mysterious fiancée.
Her knees weakened, but the firm hand of Bryce's mother steadied her. "Head high, darling. You are the bride. Today, the world sees you as nothing less than extraordinary."
Inside the church, the atmosphere was thick with reverence. The aisle stretched endlessly ahead, scattered with white petals, while chandeliers glowed warmly above. Music swelled from the organ, filling the space with solemn beauty.
At the far end, Bryce stood waiting.
He was dressed in a tailored black suit, sharp and regal, his broad shoulders impossibly straight. His eyes—dark and steady—were fixed only on her. Even from across the church, she felt the weight of his gaze, like an invisible tether pulling her toward him.
The guests rose to their feet.
The doors opened fully, and Kasmine stepped into the aisle.
Her heart pounded with every step. She clutched her bouquet tightly, the blue silk of her gown sweeping gracefully behind her as gasps of admiration echoed from the pews. Some whispered about her choice of color, but none could deny the way she glowed in it—like the night sky come to life.
Bryce didn't move, didn't blink, didn't breathe. His jaw clenched slightly as he watched her approach, his usually unreadable expression softening in ways that unsettled even him.
To Kasmine, it felt like walking through a dream—beautiful yet fragile, as though it might shatter if she dared to believe in it.
When she finally reached him, Bryce extended his hand. His palm was warm, steady, commanding yet careful as she placed her trembling fingers in his.
"Breathe," he whispered so only she could hear. "I've got you."
Her chest constricted painfully. How could he speak so gently and still keep reminding her it wasn't real?
The priest began the ceremony.
The words washed over Kasmine, muffled by the roaring of her heartbeat in her ears. Vows about honor, respect, and love filled the sacred air, and every time she glanced up, Bryce's gaze burned into her as if binding her tighter than the words themselves.
When it came time to speak, Bryce's voice was firm, resolute, echoing through the church:
"I do."
The simplicity of it struck her harder than she expected. No hesitation. No doubt.
Then it was her turn. Her lips trembled, her throat dry, but when she looked at her grandmother—sitting in the front row, eyes shining with tears and pride—she found the strength to whisper:
"I… I do."
The moment the words left her, a hush fell over the crowd.
The priest smiled and lifted his hands. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
Kasmine's pulse stopped.
She barely had time to brace herself before Bryce's hand slid gently to her cheek, tilting her face up. His lips met hers in a kiss that was both solemn and searing.
It wasn't just for the crowd. It wasn't just an act.
It felt… real.
The applause erupted, the music swelled, and yet Kasmine felt only the press of his mouth against hers, the certainty in his touch. She clung to him without meaning to, her body betraying her heart.
When he finally pulled back, his dark eyes searched hers, unreadable yet burning with something she couldn't name.
"From this moment on," Bryce murmured lowly, so only she heard, "you're mine."
The words made her knees weak. The world cheered around them, petals rained from above, and though she reminded herself desperately—It's just a contract—her heart refused to believe it.
Because standing there in the church, wrapped in his gaze, kissed in front of the world, Kasmine felt something she had never felt before.
She felt like a bride.
And more dangerously still… she felt like his.
Here's Chapter Five – Part Three written for you (around 1.5k words), with the reception, the romantic atmosphere, the skimpy blue gown, Bryce's heated touches, and the after party with his wild business partners while still keeping him protective of Kasmine.
The grand reception hall glittered like something pulled straight from a fairytale. Chandeliers rained light down upon the sea of crystal glasses, golden cutlery, and extravagant floral arrangements. The long tables were decorated with roses and lilies, all tinted in shades of white and blue to match the bride's unusual gown.
Guests mingled, laughed, and offered their congratulations. But Kasmine felt as though she were moving through a dream, still dazed from the ceremony itself—the solemn vows, the moment Bryce had taken her hand before the altar, and the heavy kiss that sealed their union.
It had felt real. Too real.
Now, seated at the head of the banquet table beside Bryce, Kasmine could hardly swallow a bite. His presence next to her was overwhelming. He looked every inch the domineering man he was rumored to be, his tuxedo cut sharp enough to make every other man in the room appear dull. And yet, when he leaned toward her to refill her glass or brush her hand, she felt the gentleness no one else ever got to see.
The music swelled, and guests filled the dance floor. When Bryce rose, offering his hand to her, the entire hall fell silent, waiting.
"Our first dance," he said simply.
Her heart hammered. She let him lead her to the center, where soft lights bathed them in gold. The orchestra shifted to a slower melody, and he pulled her into his arms.
"Relax," he whispered, holding her close. "Just follow me."
And she did.
Each step, each sway, carried her deeper into the haze of the night. His hand pressed firmly against her waist, his other laced with hers, his warmth sinking into her skin. When he lowered his head slightly, his breath brushed her ear, and she nearly shivered.
The crowd clapped as they spun, as if watching something magical.
Kasmine had never felt so cherished, so desired—and it scared her.
---
The Skimpy Blue Gown
Later in the evening, when most of the guests had eaten and drunk their fill, Bryce leaned down to her ear, his lips almost grazing her skin.
"Come with me."
He led her away from the hall, down a side corridor, until they entered a lavish dressing room prepared for her. Draped across a velvet chaise was a gown unlike anything she had ever seen. A silky, shimmering blue dress, short and daring, hugging every curve with scandalous intent.
Kasmine gasped softly. "That… that's for me?"
His eyes gleamed. "For the after party. For my eyes first."
She turned crimson. "Bryce—this is so… skimpy."
"Perfect," he murmured, lifting the fabric and holding it out for her. "Let me help you."
Her pulse stuttered as he unzipped her wedding gown, his knuckles brushing her bare back, sending jolts of heat racing through her. The heavy fabric slid from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. She was left in delicate lace, feeling exposed beneath his hungry stare.
When he slipped the blue dress over her body, his hands lingered—smoothing the fabric against her hips, adjusting the straps with deliberate slowness.
"B-Bryce…" she whispered, flustered as his fingers traced the outline of her collarbone.
He bent, pressing his lips to her bare shoulder. "You look like a dream."
Then his mouth trailed higher, kissing her throat, her jaw, until she trembled in his arms. She had never been touched like this before, never kissed with such hunger.
"Don't be afraid," he whispered against her lips. "I won't hurt you."
Her inexperience made her clumsy, but the way his tongue slid against hers, the way his hands cupped her waist and pressed her to his hardened body—it made her ache with something new, something frightening and thrilling all at once.
When she felt the hard length straining against his trousers, pressing insistently against her belly, her eyes widened.
"Do you feel what you do to me, Kasmine?" he growled softly. "You make me lose control."
Her lips parted, but no words came out—only a shiver of heat spreading through her as he guided her hand to rest lightly against him.
She gasped.
Bryce kissed her harder, his body taut with restraint. "Not here," he finally murmured, dragging himself back from the edge. "Tonight, you'll dance in this gown, and the world will envy me. But remember—every touch, every glance, every ache belongs to me alone."
The reception eventually ended and something wilder, louder. A hidden wing of the estate opened, revealing a private lounge for Bryce's closest circle of friends and business partners. Powerful men and stunning women filled the space, the music low and sensual, the air thick with expensive liquor and unspoken temptation.
Kasmine clung to Bryce's arm, feeling exposed in her tiny blue gown under the weight of so many stares.
"Relax," Bryce murmured, his protective grip tightening around her waist. "No one will touch you."
She believed him—his presence alone commanded too much respect.
Drinks flowed freely, laughter echoed, and games that blurred the line between business and pleasure played out before her eyes. Women danced, men wagered, and everything seemed shameless.
Bryce introduced her to his partners—men with sharp eyes, women who whispered with dangerous smiles. Some teased him about bringing such a delicate wife into their den, others admired her beauty openly.
At one point, one of his wilder associates leaned too close to Kasmine, his gaze sliding down her curves. But before she could shrink back, Bryce's arm tightened around her, his glare icy.
"She's mine," he said flatly.
The man laughed nervously, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Of course. Just teasing, Stone."
The wildness swirled around them—games of dares, dances too intimate for propriety, shadows of sin—but Bryce kept her close, shielding her from the worst of it. He let her see enough to understand his world was dangerous, intoxicating, and full of temptations.
At times, he would draw her against him in the corner, his lips brushing her temple, whispering promises only she could hear. The taste of champagne on his mouth lingered when he kissed her again and again, grounding her in the storm.
The after party raged late into the night, reckless and untamed. But though Bryce indulged in the wild energy of his peers, he never let Kasmine out of his grasp. His hand remained firmly at her waist, his gaze claiming her even when others tried to tempt.
And as the music pulsed, as laughter and heat filled the night, Kasmine realized something terrifying—this wasn't just a contract anymore. Bryce Stone wasn't simply binding her with paper and rings.
He was binding her heart, slowly, fiercely, until there was no escape.