Masked Desires

Chapter 10: Sophie

Jake, Killian's butler, escorted me to a room that was nothing short of exquisite. The space was decorated with elegance, featuring a lavish bed and opulent furnishings that left me momentarily awestruck. Just as I was taking in the room, Marie, the maid, entered with a warm, professional demeanor. She helped me out of the tight wedding dress, her movements gentle and efficient.

As I stood there in my undergarments, I suddenly realized I had forgotten my personal clothes. My heart sank, but when I opened the wardrobe, I was met with a complete wardrobe of my own clothes. However, they were all replaced with flimsy, thin silk pajamas. The sight of the beautiful, expensive dresses and lingerie made me pause. How did Killian know my size? A pang of jealousy and suspicion struck me—had he been preparing for someone else, perhaps the blonde girl?

Then, I remembered with a jolt that all of this was just a façade. This marriage was nothing but a pretense. I decided to take a bath, hoping the soothing water might calm my racing thoughts. I requested that my maid bring the men's body wash and other products Killian had used, a move meant to provoke jealousy and signal my defiance.

I filled the bathtub with foamy water and sank into it, letting the warmth envelop me. I closed my eyes, trying to push away the tangled thoughts and emotions. The gentle lapping of the water against the tub soon lulled me into a deep, uneasy sleep.

Killians POV

After finishing my meeting—which ended much quicker than I had hoped—I found myself with an unwanted urge to head home. The idea of facing Sophie filled me with an inexplicable mix of irritation and reluctance. Why did she have to have such an angelic face? It was infuriating. I hated the fact that I had to marry her, that I was even thinking about her at all. I wanted to keep my distance, avoid any attachment.

I decided to stop by my strip club, hoping to distract myself. The atmosphere was as charged as ever, with the usual crowd of girls eager to get close. But even with all of them around, none of them caught my interest. A ginger girl got particularly close, pressing her lips against my neck in an attempt to catch my attention. It did nothing for me—I felt nothing. I pushed her away, irritation bubbling up inside me. Their attention only annoyed me, reminding me how hollow it all felt compared to the thoughts of Sophie that lingered in my mind.

Frustrated and unable to shake the image of her, I left and headed home, hoping she would already be asleep.

When I entered my room, there was no sign of Sophie. Her wedding dress and clothes were discarded on the floor, leaving the room in disarray. Panic briefly surged through me—had she run away? Then I noticed her lingerie on the floor, and something inside me snapped. I picked up her underwear and brought it to my nose, the scent distinctly masculine. Had she been with someone else? The idea enraged me.

Determined, I was about to storm out and find her when I heard the soft hiss of steam coming from the bathroom. Slowly, I approached the door and opened it just a crack. There she was, lying peacefully in the bathtub, her eyes closed, lips slightly parted, and hair wet, with foam covering her body. Her soft, baby-like skin glistened under the bathroom lights.

I couldn't help but notice the lingering scent of men's cologne—she must have used it to provoke me, to make me think she'd been with someone else. It infuriated me that she would do something like that.

As I leaned down to kiss her, the moment her lips met mine, a rush of warmth and softness spread through me. Her lips were incredible—delicate, tender, with a sweetness that caught me off guard. They felt like they belonged to someone who had never known anything but gentleness, a stark contrast to the rough world we lived in. I lingered for a moment, savoring the sensation, feeling an unexpected pull toward her.