Liora Vale stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the opulent bridal suite, the morning light pouring through panoramic windows that overlooked the glittering city skyline. The room smelled of white roses, vanilla candles, and money-old, cold money. Her long, wavy dark hair cascaded over one shoulder in perfect, glossy waves, and her porcelain skin glowed under the delicate touch of makeup applied by professionals who cost more per hour than her mother used to make in a month.
The wedding gown hugged her body like a lover's promise. Ivory silk and lace clung to her full breasts, nipped in at her tiny waist, and flared over her curvaceous hips. She looked every inch the perfect trophy wife. Fragile. Elegant. Innocent.
But inside, she was trembling with a different kind of hunger.
Tonight, she thought, pressing a hand lightly over her lower belly. Tonight, everything changes.
Her mind drifted as she traced the delicate lace neckline, remembering the threadbare apartment she had grown up in. Second-hand clothes. Food stamps. A single mother who worked two jobs just to keep the lights on. Liora had always been the quiet, beautiful girl who studied hard, kept her head down, and dreamed of something more. Something safe. Something that didn't involve scraping by.
That something had walked into her life at the annual Voss Foundation Charity Gala two years ago.
Silas Voss.
He had been commanding, polished, and twenty years older than most of the women who threw themselves at him. Tall, aristocratic, with sharp cheekbones and an aura of effortless power. He hadn't looked at her like the other men did-like a pretty ornament to be used and discarded. At first, he had looked at her like an investment.
Their courtship had been swift and businesslike. Expensive dinners. Designer gifts. Trips to places she had only seen in magazines. When he proposed on the deck of his yacht, sliding a diamond the size of a small planet onto her finger, he had spoken of security, legacy, and partnership.
Not love.
Not passion.
But Liora had said yes anyway.
Because for the first time in her life, she wouldn't have to worry about rent, medical bills, or her mother's failing health. And because she had hoped-naively, desperately-that behind Silas's cold exterior was a man who would finally touch her the way she had always secretly craved.
Liora had turned twenty-two last month and was still a virgin. Not by fierce conviction, but by circumstance and fear. Years of repressed desire simmered beneath her shy, refined surface. She had spent countless nights touching herself in silence, biting her lip to stay quiet, imagining rough hands, filthy words, and a man who would claim her so completely she'd forget her own name.
Tonight, she would finally be claimed.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
"Miss Vale? It's time."
Liora took one last look at herself in the mirror. The innocent bride stared back, hazel eyes bright with nervous hope.
She whispered to her reflection, voice barely audible:
"Please... make me feel desired."
Little did she know that her husband would not be the one to answer that prayer.
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