Lara's POV
It still felt surreal that I was now Mrs. Lara Quinn Blackwell. Every time I heard someone call me by that name, my heart fluttered, as if it could not decide whether to be overjoyed or afraid. I could not stop smiling even if I knew that smile carried both excitement and uncertainty.
This was what I used to dream about when I was still his secretary, sitting behind my desk, watching him stride through the office with quiet authority. I used to wonder what it would feel like to stand beside him, to hold his hand, to be the woman he would someday choose. And now, here I was, wearing his ring, being called his wife.
Even if it was only on paper, even if this marriage was built on something I did not fully understand, I told myself to bury the fear and live inside the moment. I wanted to enjoy what little truth existed within this illusion.
The reception hall glowed under soft golden lights. Laughter and music filled the air, the clinking of glasses blending with the gentle rhythm of the piano. We danced. We shared a slice of cake. We drank the wine that tasted sweeter than it should have. For a few fleeting hours, I allowed myself to believe that everything was real.
Marco never left my side. He guided me through the crowd, his hand warm against mine, his expression calm but unreadable. Every time our eyes met, my heart skipped, even though a quiet voice inside me whispered that something about all this was wrong.
It was such a beautiful day, perfect in every sense, if only it was not a carefully constructed lie.
When Marco was finally called away to speak with the elders and the council members, my mother came up to me. She had been waiting patiently, watching from afar with the kind of gentle pride only a mother could have. The moment she reached me, she took my hands in hers, her eyes misty.
"Lara, I am so happy for you, sweetheart," she said, her voice warm yet uncertain.
"Thank you, Mom," I replied, forcing a smile that I hoped looked natural. I did not want her to sense my hesitation, not tonight. Not when she looked so proud.
She squeezed my hands gently. "I know how much you love him, even from the very beginning. I saw the way you looked at him when you thought no one else was watching." She paused, her expression softening into something more serious. "But a mother always knows. I wish you all the happiness in the world, but please, sweetheart, do not let him hurt you."
Her words struck me harder than I expected. I blinked quickly, pretending that the warmth in my eyes was from joy, not the sting of fear that had returned to my chest.
"Mom, I promise I am fine," I said, trying to sound confident.
Her gaze lingered, full of concern. "This wedding happened so fast. I just hope it was out of love, not obligation."
I looked down at my glass of champagne, watching the bubbles rise and fade. For a second, I wanted to tell her the truth about why this marriage had to happen, about the secret behind Marco's promise. But I swallowed the words. I could not break her heart with mine.
"Are you pregnant, Lara?" she asked gently, lowering her voice.
I shook my head quickly. "Of course not, Mom," I said, forcing a small laugh. "We are just in love."
She studied me for a long moment, and I could see the question still lingering in her eyes. But she smiled anyway, choosing to believe me, or maybe choosing not to push any further.
When she walked away to join Marco's parents, I stayed where I was, staring at the crowd from a distance. Marco was across the room, talking with his business partners, his expression composed and unreadable, as always. I watched the way people admired him, respected him, even feared him.
And I realized then that no matter how many people filled the room, I had never felt more alone.
I ran my fingers along my wedding ring, its smooth surface catching the light. It was beautiful—too beautiful to belong to something so uncertain.
I smiled again, though this time it was only for show. "We are just in love," I whispered to myself, as if repeating the lie could somehow make it true.
After throwing the bouquet, laughter filled the air as petals scattered across the crowd. The music faded into a soft murmur, and then Marco leaned in, his hand gently cupping my face. His lips found mine in a kiss that made the world around us disappear. For a moment, it felt as if we were back in the cabin again, surrounded only by silence and the rhythm of our hearts.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. His breath was warm against my skin as he whispered in a deep, husky voice, "Let's get out of here. I can't wait to have you, Lara."
My entire body reacted before my mind could catch up. My cheeks burned, my heart fluttered wildly, and a wave of anticipation rushed through me. I could barely look at him without feeling the heat rising in every corner of my soul.
Everyone waved and cheered as we made our way toward the car, tossing petals into the air while shouting their good wishes. Marco opened the door for me with a small smile that made my knees weak. The moment he slid behind the wheel and the engine started, a quiet settled between us, the kind that carried more meaning than words ever could.
He drove away from his parents' mansion, the glow of the lights fading behind us as the road opened into the dark, endless stretch ahead. The silence inside the car was thick, charged with unspoken desire. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my chest, steady and wild.
Marco's eyes were fixed on the road, but I could sense his restlessness, the tension in his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. My fingers twisted the edge of my dress as the sound of the tires against the asphalt seemed to echo louder in the quiet night.
Then, without warning, he pulled over to the side of the road. The sudden stop made my breath hitch. Outside, the world was wrapped in darkness, the only light coming from the car's headlights casting a pale glow over the trees.
"Marco—" I started, but the words barely left my lips before he moved.
He reached for me and pulled me into his lap with such urgency that my breath caught in my throat. His mouth captured mine in a deep, hungry kiss that left me trembling. Every trace of restraint vanished as he kissed me again and again, his hands moving with possessive tenderness. I could taste the wine on his lips, mixed with the heat of something far more intoxicating.
I gasped softly against his mouth, my fingers gripping his shoulders for balance as his tongue brushed against mine. The world narrowed to that single moment — the scent of his skin, the warmth of his body, the way he whispered my name between kisses as if it was something sacred.
When I shifted slightly, I felt the unmistakable hardness beneath his trousers, and it sent a shiver racing through me. The need to be closer, to feel him again, burned inside me like fire.
Marco broke the kiss, breathing hard. His voice was rough when he finally spoke. "Damn it, Lara. The mountain is still far away. I need to get us there before I lose control of myself."
He helped me back into my seat, his fingers brushing against my trembling hands as he fastened my seatbelt. His touch lingered for just a heartbeat longer than necessary, his eyes dark and full of promise.
"Hold on tight," he said softly.
The car roared back to life. As we drove through the night, I could barely breathe. The speed made the trees blur past like streaks of shadow, and the wind outside howled against the windows. My heart pounded in rhythm with the engine as the city lights vanished behind us.
I turned to look at him — the sharp line of his jaw, the focus in his eyes, the way his hands held complete control over the car and yet seemed to tremble from the same longing that consumed me.
It felt like we were racing not just toward the mountain, but toward the moment that would change everything.
And as the road stretched endlessly ahead of us, I realized that no matter how wild, reckless, or uncertain this love was, I would follow him anywhere.
The moment we reached our destination, Marco did not waste a single second. The tires had barely stilled against the gravel when he stepped out of the car and hurried around to open my door. The night air was cool and sharp, filled with the scent of pine and sea salt drifting from the cliffside. Before I could even speak, Marco reached for me, his hand firm as he pulled me into his arms.
His lips found mine again in a kiss that left me breathless. I barely had time to steady myself before he pressed me gently against the side of the car, deepening the kiss until I felt the world tilt beneath my feet. His taste, his scent, the sound of his low breathing against my skin — everything about that moment made me melt completely.
I could feel the butterflies in my stomach flutter wildly as his hands framed my face. Just thinking of spending the night with him, alone in that house, made my knees weak. Every nerve in my body burned with longing, and I felt myself trembling as his lips moved down to my neck, trailing soft, lingering kisses that made my heart race faster.
When he finally pulled away, I could hardly catch my breath. His eyes lingered on me with a mixture of desire and tenderness that made my heart ache. I wanted to pull him back, to beg him not to stop, but before I could speak, he lifted me effortlessly into his arms.
I gasped softly and clung to him as he carried me toward the house that stood silently ahead. It was a two story home built of stone and glass, perched beautifully at the edge of the cliff. The night sky was dark and heavy, yet somehow, the moon broke through the clouds, spilling silver light across the path as if guiding our way.
"Marco," I whispered, my voice barely audible, "it is so beautiful here."
He smiled faintly but did not answer. His expression was unreadable as he pushed the door open. The hinges creaked softly, and I expected to be met with the scent of the sea or the quiet warmth of the home he had promised to show me.
But instead, what greeted us froze me in place.
"Welcome home, Marco!"
The voice echoed from inside the house, smooth and mocking, a voice I recognized immediately.
I felt Marco stiffen as if the air had been knocked out of him. Slowly, his grip on me loosened, and he set me gently on my feet. I turned toward the direction of the voice, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Serene stood in the center of the living room, bathed in the golden glow of the chandelier. She looked as if she belonged there, elegant in a silk dress that shimmered beneath the light. Her lips curved into a smile that did not reach her eyes.
"Serene," Marco said at last, his voice rough and strained. "What are you doing here?"
I could hear the shock in his tone, but it was the guilt in his eyes that made my stomach twist. My body went numb as I stared between them, unable to process what was happening.
Serene tilted her head slightly, her gaze moving from Marco to me, her eyes glinting with cold amusement. "Do you really need to ask me that, my love?" she said sweetly, her voice dripping with poison. "I came to remind this woman that she has no claim over you. You belong to me, Marco. You always have."
Her words sliced through the air like a blade.
I felt my heart stop, my breath catching painfully in my throat. Every trace of warmth drained from my body as her gaze locked onto mine.
"And tonight," Serene continued, her voice soft but cruel, "you will be spending the night with me, not with your little bride."
The silence that followed was unbearable. The soft sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs below filled the room, but it did nothing to break the tension that hung between us.
I looked at Marco, searching his face for an answer, for denial, for something that could keep my heart from breaking. But he said nothing. His jaw was tight, his eyes shadowed, and in that moment, I knew the truth before he even spoke.
The night that had once promised love and belonging had turned into something far colder.
And as Serene's triumphant smile lingered in the dim light, I realized that some dreams, no matter how beautiful, were always meant to hurt when they came true.