Chapter Five : My Fake Bride

Zorak’s POV At The Brothel

“Bro, you are not gonna believe this.”

Verlin’s voice came through my phone like he was holding in a scream. And knowing Verlin, he probably was. The bastard lived for drama.

“I’m at Blackline,” he said, breathless. “And guess who just walked in looking like hot as hell?”

I grunted. “Who?”

He let it hang. “The widow. Your cello girl. Nolie freaking Hartley.”

I froze mid-step. “You better be fucking joking.”

“Do I sound like a guy with a death wish? She’s here, bro. Drunk. IWalked into this joint like she was auditioning to be someone’s mistake.”

My jaw clenched.

“What the fuck is she doing there?”

“Trying to forget, from the look of it,” Verlin chuckled. “Can’t blame her. I'd forget too if I had to fuck Sylvesso every night”

“Verlin.”

I already had my keys in my hand.

“She alone?” I asked, voice sharp.

Verlin laughed. “Not for long. Every dick in this place just stood at attention. Including mine. She’s got this ‘fuck me or fight me’ energy—real messy hot girl behavior.”

“Verlin.”

“Yeah?”

“Keep your dick in your pants or I’ll break it off.”

I hung up.

Few minutes later, I was at Blackline. I parked like a man who didn’t give a shit whose car I scratched and walked in like I owned the damn building.

The bartender looked up and shivered.

“Her Room,” I said. “Now.”

He pointed with shaking hands.

“She's upstairs with some guy,” he added fast. “Didn’t think she was your girl, man”

“She’s not.” I was already climbing the stairs two at a time.

Every step fed my fury. What the hell was she thinking? Showing up here, drunk, vulnerable, about to spread her legs for some random fucking idiot. Her body was mine.

I reached the door. Heard her laugh. Heard a man’s voice. Heard the bed squeak.

Then I kicked it open.

The guy jumped. Half-naked. Pants at his knees. Dick out like a joke.

Nolie didn’t move.

She was lying on the bed in her black lace, eyes heavy and unfocused,I didn’t say a word.

Just walked in, grabbed the guy by the throat, and flung him into the wall like trash.

He scrambled, dick flapping, eyes wide. “Man, what the fu…”

“Run.”

He ran. Tripped over his jeans on the way out.

The door slammed.

Silence.

Then I looked at her.

She was still on the bed. Legs parted. Bra strap slipping down one shoulder. Her lips were swollen, her hair a mess. Drunk. Gorgeous. Barely holding herself up.

I walked up. She grabbed my collar.

“Sheesh,” she whispered. “You ruined my toy. You better finish the job.”

She pulled me closer. Her lips brushed mine. That little drunk smile? Dangerous.

My cock hardened so fast it hurt.

She tilted her face, brushing my mouth with hers. “Come on, baby. Kiss me. I need to feel something real tonight.”

Fuck.

I pinned her to the wall. Grabbed her waist. Mouth on hers—hot, desperate, hungry.

She gasped into my mouth. Her arms wrapped around my neck. Her leg came up, hooked around my hip. I was burning.

I kissed her. Hard. Deep. Tongue tasting everything she offered and more.

Her lips. Her throat. Down to her collarbone. I licked a path along her neck, biting gently. She moaned. Fuck.

Then I stopped.

I backed off. Breathing heavily. Hands fisted at my sides.

“You’re drunk, Nolie.”

She blinked. “So?”

“So I’m not fucking you like this.”

She stepped toward me, swaying slightly. “Why not? You want me. I can feel it. Hell, I can see it.”

She glanced down at the bulge in my pants.

“Listen to me I’m not some idiot tourist you can fuck and forget,” I growled. “When I take you, you’ll be sober. Awake. Sane.

“I’m all of those things right now,” she whispered.

“No. You’re drunk and trying to hurt yourself.”

She stumbled. I caught her. She collapsed into me—soft, warm, perfect.

“I’m getting you out of here,” I muttered.

“I don’t wanna go back.”

I gritted my teeth. My cock was hard enough to ache. Every inch of her was screaming for it, but she wasn’t sober. She wasn’t thinking. She’d hate me in the morning if I touched her now.

She blinked again. “You always ruin the moment by being a good guy?”

I didn’t answer.

Her eyes lifted to mine.

“I’ve got a plan. You just need to give me time. One week, Nolie. That’s all I need.”

She blinked. Tears tried to fall. She looked so small then. So lost.

I picked her up—light as hell in my arms—and carried her down the stairs. Verlin was waiting outside with a stupid grin.

“Told you she was a mess,” Verlin said. “You get some?”

I turned to him. “You wanna walk home for the rest of the night?”

He raised both hands. “Alright, alright. Damn.”

I loaded her into my car. She curled up against the seat, mumbling nonsense.

Her hand grabbed mine before she passed out.

“Zorak?” she whispered.

“Yeah, flame?”

“Save Me.” And then she knocked out cold.

I stared at her. So soft yet So deadly

I wasn’t leaving her in Veltrano's hands much longer.

She’d been in that devil’s den too long.

Because I was going to burn it all down to get her out.

And once she was mine?

She’d beg to stay.

Nolie’s POV The Next Morning

“Get up. You’ve got a wedding in four hours.”

The voice slammed into my skull like a hammer. I groaned, eyes squinting against the daylight punching through my curtains. My head was pounding. Mouth dry as sand. My robe was half open, one leg on the bed, one dangling off.

Last night hit me in flashes.

Bar.

Vodka.

A stranger.

Then him.

Zorak.

His mouth. His hands. That heat in my chest that had nothing to do with alcohol.

God.

Did I really kiss him?

Did we…?

I sat up fast. Too fast.

The room spun.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

Before I could gather my thoughts, Arjona’s sharp voice sliced in again, this time from inside the room.

“You’re awake. Good. Get dressed. Your wedding’s been moved to today. Since you can’t keep your legs closed, we figured we better lock it down before you spread again.”

I blinked.

“Excuse me?”

Maid after maid flooded in—one tossing my sheets aside, another placing a wedding gown on the chaise like it didn’t represent my funeral.

A stylist walked in with a box of makeup, followed by a girl with a flat iron and tears in her eyes like even she pitied me.

I grabbed my robe, tied it tight, and stormed out of the room.

Outside, the courtyard was already in chaos—white flowers, satin chairs, a tent going up, waiters flying past. It looked like a wedding catalog puked everywhere.

I marched straight to Arjona, who stood in the center barking orders like a mafia wedding planner.

“You better cancel this circus,” I snapped. “I fucked another man last night. The whole damn town saw it. And I might be carrying his baby. So unless you want to throw the biggest scandal of the year”

She turned slowly, sunglasses perched low on her nose, lips curled in amusement.

“Oh, we heard. Loud and clear. The town’s talking.”

“Good,” I hissed. “Now call it off.”

“But here’s the twist,” she said, stepping closer. “The rumors say a knight in shining armor showed up. Zorak Padrelli. Rival cartel heir. Snatched you up like a hero in a damn telenovela. And the poor guy you were grinding on ran out with his dick dangling.”

I blinked.

“You moved the wedding forward because of that?”

“Yes,” she smiled, satisfied. “Before you make another stupid mistake. We’re doing this today. With or without your permission.”

“I’ll give you the recordings,” I said through my teeth. “I know that’s what you want. The files Sylvesso left. The blackmail tapes. The treasure trove that’ll put the Veltrano name back on top. I know where he kept it.”

She paused. Smirked.

“And I’d still rather have you miserable and trapped here. The files are just a bonus.”

She turned and walked away.

I stood there shaking. Chest heaving.

Then I saw Father Antonio. He looked like a ghost in priest robes—shuffling awkwardly between the staff and the altar like he wanted to disappear.

I ran to him.

“Please,” I begged. “Call it off. Stop this madness. You’re a man of God!”

He lowered his eyes.

“They offered to fund the orphanage... the roof’s leaking and the children—” His voice cracked. “I’m sorry, child. I have no say here. Go get ready.”

I staggered back to my room.

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them away.

Everything in me wanted to scream. Or run. Or find Zorak and cuss him the hell out. Why did he save me? Why now?

The stylist grabbed my arm gently. “Please, Miss Nolie. They said they’ll hurt us if you delay.”

I nodded. Just once.

I let them paint my face like a doll, press curls into my hair, lace up a dress too tight it made my ribs ache. The gown hugged every curve, pushed my boobs high like bait. I looked like a bride. A bride walking to war.

I didn’t get to invite my parents. Or my sisters. I hadn’t seen them in months. Not since this family clipped my wings and stuck me in this mansion like a bird in a golden cage.

The music started outside.

The maids pulled me to my feet. One fixed my veil. Another handed me the bouquet.

The doors opened.

I stepped out.

Guests lined the rows like statues. Mob bosses. Wives. Strangers. Eyes on me.

Reggio stood at the altar, beaming like he’d just won the lottery. He looked like a creep stuffed into a tux.

My feet felt heavy.

One step. Then another.

I couldn’t breathe.

The priest cleared his throat.

“I now pronounce”

“I do,” Reggio said before anyone asked.

Then the priest turned to me.

“And do you, Nolie Hartley”

BANG.

The doors burst open. Gasps.

I froze.

The wind rushed in first. Then boots. Then a presence that made the walls hold their breath.

Golden eyes.

Reggio flinched like prey. Arjona hissed like steam. I just froze.

Zorak didn’t look at them. He looked at me. Only me.

I should’ve known.

Zorak strode in like he owned the damn place. He walked right past the priest, past Reggio, past the guests.

He came to me.

Grabbed me by the waist.

And kissed me.

Right there. In front of everyone. He didn’t just kiss me. He claimed my mouth like it owed him something. My body answered before my brain did.

I didn’t fight it.

I didn’t blink.

He scooped me up like I weighed nothing and turned.

The room erupted.

“She’s my wife,” he said over his shoulder. “Already married to me.”

And just like that

We were gone. He Took me ro his car parked outside

In the car. My dress bunched around me. Heart pounding. Head spinning.

I didn’t know what to feel. Relief? Rage? Both?

He sat beside me. Calm. Like he hadn’t just hijacked a fucking wedding.

“Twice now,” he said quietly. “I’ve saved you from the Averso brothers.”

I looked at him, heart in my throat.

“Time to pay your debt.”

He pulled a paper from his coat. Dropped it on my lap.

A contract.

“Sign it. Marry me. You escape this mess. I get access to everything your dead husband left behind. And I need a wife for my inheritance.”

He leaned in, his voice low.

“What do you say, little flame?”

Before I could answer, his phone rang.

One word flashed on the screen.

Arjona.