•••
You were never free. You were always meant to be in my hands, under my control, and screaming my name.
•••
She swallowed, her throat dry. “N...No, I...I won’t come. I’ll sleep he...here,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
A tense silence stretched between them.
Osman narrowed his eyes, his expression darkening as he took a slow step forward. He wasn’t used to refusal. In his world, his word was law, final and absolute. And yet, this trembling girl before him—his wife—had dared to defy him.
His voice was deceptively calm when he spoke. “Repeat that.”
Aamirah’s heart pounded against her ribs. She could hear the warning in his tone, the restrained power lurking beneath his words. She swallowed hard and hesitated for a moment before lifting her chin, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Kyun? Aapko kam sunai deta hai?”
"Why? Do you have a problem in hearing?"
A stunned silence followed.
Osman’s brows lifted slightly, a flicker of amusement flashing in his eyes before it quickly disappeared. He had expected fear, maybe even submission. But sarcasm? That was unexpected.
His wife certainly had a sharp tongue—when she dared to use it.
How unexpected.
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, a sound so rare that it sent an unfamiliar sensation skittering down Aamirah’s spine. He tilted his head slightly, assessing her, before rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt.
Her breath hitched.
She hadn’t noticed it before, but now that his forearms were exposed, she couldn’t ignore the way his veins traced along the muscles, how strong and masculine his hands looked. It was ridiculous—why was she noticing these things now?
Osman took a step forward.
Panic surged through her.
Her feet moved on instinct, stepping back. “W-Why are you coming closer?” she asked, voice laced with nervousness. “I told you—I won’t sleep on that bed.”
He didn’t stop.
Panic surged through her veins as she stumbled backward. “If you try anything, I-I’ll scream for help,” she stammered.
Osman arched a brow, the amusement in his eyes deepening. “And who will help you, wife?” His voice was laced with mockery. “Aren’t we husband and wife? If anyone hears you, they’ll simply assume we’re…” he let the words hang in the air, his smirk deepening as he took another deliberate step toward her.
Her breath caught in her throat as he closed the remaining distance between them, standing so close that the heat of his body seeped into her skin.
His presence was overwhelming, intoxicating.
She struggled to find words, her mind racing. “I’ll… I’ll call Grandpa,” she blurted out, grasping for any leverage she could. “I know you’re scared of him.”
The moment the words left her lips, she regretted them.
The amusement vanished from Osman’s face. His features darkened, his eyes turning unreadable, a storm brewing beneath the surface or she thought so.
The air between them turned heavy.
Aamirah swallowed hard. She had pushed too far.
“And whom do you fear?” Osman asked, his voice deceptively soft as he reached out.
YOU ARE READING
𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬
Любовные романы••• "Just because I haven't touched you as a husband should, that doesn't mean I won't," he said, his voice low and menacing. Her knees felt weak, and she didn't dare move from where she stood, his presence overwhelming her completely. She could b...
