"So, Mr. Adrian Black, do you take Annastasia Winston as your legal wife?" the registrar's voice rang through the evening stillness. Outside, the sun hung low in the sky, painting everything in gold, but inside her, a storm raged. Fear, anger, and despair collided in her chest.
"I do." His voice cut through the calm like ice—cold and unyielding, each syllable deliberate, unbending.
The registrar turned to her. "Miss Annastasia Winston, do you take Mr. Adrian Black as your legal husband?"
Her hand shook violently in his grasp. Pain shot up her arm where his fingers wrapped around hers, and she dared a glance at him meeting his black merciless eyes. His expression was unreadable—cold, dangerous, and patient. A whisper broke the tension.
"Speak," he murmured, low and commanding, leaning close enough that she could feel the sharp heat of his breath against her ear. His grip tightened, and the sudden pressure made her fingers pale and numb.
"Y… ye… yes," she stammered, her voice cracking under the pain, the humiliation, and the terror of what she was agreeing to.
"Good," he said, his lips twitching with a faint, almost cruel smirk. "Very good."
"You're officially husband and wife. You may seal your vows," the registrar announced.
Adrian stepped forward, erasing any space between them. Annastasia instinctively tried to retreat, but his hands clamped around her waist, firm and unyielding, leaving no room for resistance. Before she could react, his lips descended on hers. She froze, a statue under the weight of his control, unable to pull away.
When he broke the kiss, he didn't give her a chance to breathe. He hugged her tightly, pressing his mouth against the nape of her neck. She felt his breath—cold, sharp, and commanding—against her skin, and her knees threatened to buckle.
"Welcome to hell, Miss Winston," he whispered, each word dripping with threat and dark amusement. Her body trembled uncontrollably, and a tear slipped down her cheek.
"Don't try to act," he murmured, his thumb brushing the tear away, caressing her cheek in a way that made her skin crawl. "I know exactly what you wanted. Don't think I don't see it."
Her lips parted to protest, but no sound came. Fear, helplessness, and a strange, sharp awareness of his power coursing through her body left her speechless.
Adrian pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. "Do you understand? This… us… it's not a game. Not for me. Not for you." His gaze bore into hers, icy and absolute.
"I—I…" she stammered, unable to finish the sentence, her voice drowned in her panic.
"Good." His lips curved into a faint, predatory smile. "Learn quickly. You'll need it."
The crowd erupted into polite applause and murmurs of admiration. Guests raised glasses, offering congratulations. Adrian followed suit, taking his glass with deliberate calm, but his eyes never left her. Every subtle movement, every tilt of his head, spoke of dominance and control.
Annastasia lifted her glass with trembling fingers, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to spilling. She met Adrian's gaze briefly, only to find the same piercing intensity staring back. The room around her blurred—the laughter, the chatter, the music—all irrelevant. She was trapped in the storm that was Adrian Black, and she knew it.
"Careful, Miss Winston," he said softly, a murmur meant only for her as he held her trembling hand, the hint of threat hidden beneath civility. "One wrong move, and the world you think you control will crumble around you."
Her stomach twisted, and she nearly dropped her glass. The crowd continued to celebrate, oblivious, while inside, Annastasia felt the chains of her new life tighten with every heartbeat.
"This is your life now," he added quietly, his voice smooth and merciless. "You'll smile, you'll stand beside me, and you'll play your part while everything you once hoped for dies slowly. And when you finally realize there's no escape…" His lips curved into a cold smirk. "It will already be far too late."