Chapter 1

It was time for our weekly "marital duty." This contract marriage was really getting old. Even the icy CEO treats intimacy like it was just another item on his to-do list.

"I don't think we're a good fit tonight," I said, testing the waters and searching for an excuse.

His usually calm eyes suddenly turned dangerously red. He gripped my chin with his long fingers, his breath searing against my ear. "Not a good fit? Last night you were begging me, crying for more... Wasn't that enough for you?"

Seriously? My cold, abstinent husband just morphed into a possessive, jealous maniac?

*****

The night was deep, and the city lights outside the floor-to-ceiling windows had just begun to glow, making Owen Reed's penthouse atop downtown feel like a lonely island suspended above the city.

In the bedroom, a single wall lamp cast a dim, yellowish glow, draping the whole space in a charged, almost suffocating atmosphere.

I sat at the edge of the bed, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the faint designs on the sheets, my heart racing.

"Come here," Owen said, his voice low and commanding, leaving no room for argument.

He was half-reclined against the headboard, his shirt undone just enough to show off his sculpted collarbone, the chiseled lines of his chest casting soft shadows in the muted light.

His usually cold, distant eyes were now locked onto me, unblinking, like a hunter stalking its prey.

I took a deep breath; my mental commentary was running wild.

[I'm dying! Mr. Reed's gaze is so intense—who could possibly handle that?]

[The stoic CEO's night mode is on! Ladies, get your tissues ready!]

[Ahhh, this is literally an alpha CEO straight out of a web novel! Claire, why aren't you making your move already?]

[Claire, stop dragging your feet! This is Owen Reed—what are you even thinking about?]

[Just jump him already!]

Of course I knew who he was. Owen Reed, the boss of Reed Corporation, had multiplied his business empire several times over while still young. Ruthless, icy, and so abstinent. Every socialite in Somerford City chased after but never dared to approach.

And me? Claire Evans, just a regular game designer and a nobody streamer, became his wife on paper thanks to a family arrangement.

"Mr. Reed, I'm a bit tired today," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though my fingers unconsciously tightened.

The contract was crystal clear: at least once a week, we had to check off our "married couple duties." He never actually forced me, but that silent pressure was suffocating.

Owen's brows knit together ever so slightly, and the light in his eyes grew darker, more intense.

He stayed silent, just reached out, his long fingers gently catching a strand of my hair that hung by my side. Slowly, he twined it around his finger, drawing me closer to him, inch by inch.

His touch was tender, but there was a commanding strength behind it that left me no room to resist.

[Ahhh! The slow-burn! The atmosphere! I'm dead!]

[Owen's got serious game! This is top-tier tension—Claire, you're about to fall hard!]

[Claire, how can you be so oblivious? Mr. Reed's practically turning into a beast right now!]

[Forget tired, this is lethal!]

[Stop resisting, just surrender already! We can't wait any longer!]

His breath drew closer, carrying a cool scent mixed with his unique warmth, instantly enveloping me.

I instinctively leaned back, but his other hand slipped around my waist, guiding me effortlessly into his embrace.

His chest was rock solid, his scorching body heat seeping through the thin fabric. Every inch of him pressed against me, leaving nowhere to hide.

"You're not tired," Owen murmured, his voice low and seductive, almost hypnotic. "You're just pretending."

His fingertips glided softly across my cheek, lingering at my lips, his finger pad gently teasing them. Those usually calm, distant eyes now burned with fierce desire, as if he was about to consume me whole.

Memories flickered through my mind like movie reels. Half a year ago, when two powerful families arranged their alliance, I was thrust onto center stage.

The first time I met Owen, he was sitting at the main seat in the meeting room, his face cold and distant, listening to the family elders talking endlessly about the marriage alliance.

He only nodded every now and then, barely saying a word. I thought he was basically the ice king in human form.

When he looked at me, it was like he was just reviewing paperwork, not a person.

Once the contract was signed, I officially became his wife. The deal was, if after a year neither of us felt it was working, we'd peacefully split.

I figured this would be a marriage where we just kept our distance and minded our own business. I'd keep working on my games, he'd keep running his empire, and every now and then, we'd just play our roles—nothing real, just for show.

Until... tonight, when the scheduled "marital duty" per our agreement came around again.

He leaned down, pressing a warm kiss to the side of my neck, sending a shiver through my whole body.

"Don't move," Owen said, his voice even rougher now, tinged with a dangerous warning.

I felt his breath grow heavier, his fingertips slipping under my collar. The coolness of his touch contrasted sharply with my overheated skin.

"Owen..." I tried to push him away, but his arms locked around me like iron bands, unyielding, leaving me no way to escape.

"Not a good fit?" Owen suddenly lifted his head, his gaze flashing dangerously as he locked eyes with me, wild possessiveness burning deep in his stare. "Claire, tell me—what part of us isn't a good fit?"

He suddenly leaned in, pinning me beneath him. His lips claimed mine with a punishing force, dominating me completely.

I struggled, but he subdued me effortlessly. His kiss, fierce and commanding at first, soon turned lingering and scorching, like he wanted to melt me right into his arms.

[Ahhh! They're kissing! This is peak chemistry!]

[Mr. Reed's possessiveness is insane! Who said he was abstinent?!]

[Claire, stop pretending! Admit it, you're loving this!]

[See? I told you Owen was secretly wild! This isn't an iceberg; it's a volcano going off!]

[That look, those moves, those lines! Girl, open your eyes—your husband's a possessive psycho!]

He finally let go of my lips, his scorching breath washing over my face, intoxicatingly masculine. He stared at me, and deep in his eyes was an intensity and wildness I'd never seen before.

"Claire, you're mine. Only mine," Owen said, his voice low and rough, every word searing into my heart. "You don't get a choice."