The Bride Ibesha

The dartboard was still quivering when Colt Harris's fingers closed around the steel dart that would seal her fate.

His smile spread beneath his neatly trimmed beard, a predatory assessment that slowly drenched Isabella Lorraine from head to toe.

"Dear Isabella," his words came thick and sticky, like honey coating poison, "you lost."

Her first time—lost to her future brother-in-law.

This realization exploded in Isabella's mind, leaving it blank.

The air suddenly thinned. The yacht's lights danced in Colt's triumphant pupils and burned against her cheeks.

Isabella heard her own heartbeat, pounding against her ribs like a drum.

His dart, its cold metal tip, lifted the edge of her silk collar.

The slight friction amplified in her ears into a tearing roar.

Isabella tensed every nerve in her body, like a butterfly pinned in a display case.

"Isabella," her sister Sonia Lorraine's voice cut in. She held Colt's arm, her face radiating a sharp gleam. "You lost."

A few suggestive chuckles rose around them, like snakes moving through grass.

Anina Garcia, Sonia's close friend, covered her lips with her wine glass: "Oh my god, so exciting—Isabella lost her virginity."

Isabella's knuckles turned white, blood seeming to ebb away, leaving a cold beach behind.

She gathered her remaining courage and looked at the red-haired Colt: "Can I change the bet?"

Her voice was weak, yet it was all the strength Isabella had.

She couldn't give herself to this scumbag.

Colt laughed, his wrist turning as the dart that had just left Isabella's collar pierced through an inconspicuous white paper bag on the table.

"Of course, my dear Isabella." His tone was light, as if proposing a game. "You can first taste this 'good stuff,' and then we'll go to the guest room for a deeper discussion."

His gaze shifted to Sonia: "Of course, Sonia, you won't be angry, right, my dear wife?"

Sonia, holding her wine glass, swayed over to Isabella.

The amber liquid sloshed against the glass.

She raised her glass—not in blessing, but like an executioner making a final judgment: "Of course. I even wish you two a good time."

Sonia leaned down, her voice dropping to a whisper filled with cold malice: "Isabella, you deliberately lost to ruin my marriage. This is your punishment."

"No, Sonia!" Isabella shook her head, tears finally breaking through, burning hot as they slid down her cold cheeks. "I didn't! There was something wrong with my dart's weight!"

She tried to grasp this last, insignificant piece of evidence.

She was answered with louder mockery, drowning in the suddenly rising noise.

Sonia turned back to Colt's side with a performative displeasure: "I'm angry, you bastard."

Colt just laughed, gripped the back of her head, and gave her a deep, lingering, audible kiss in front of everyone.

This kiss was like a switch.

Instantly, the party was thrown to the peak of madness.

A woman giggled as she poured liquor over herself, her dress soaked and clinging to her curves. She lazily reclined on the long table, drawing excited men who crowded around, groping, biting.

Order collapsed. The air filled with the thick smell of alcohol, sweat, and raw desire mixed together.

Isabella was rooted to the spot, helpless.

The mad whirlpool expanded around her. Men's gazes were unmasked, stripping her with their eyes.

She had only come because Sonia told her to, to attend this pre-wedding party.

One missed dart throw had pushed her to the cliff's edge.

Isabella had been to parties, but never witnessed such blatant depravity.

The suffocating inability to resist wrapped around her.

Yet deep in her heart, a weak flame still flickered.

Isabella still wanted to fight for herself.

The air was thick with expensive cigars and luxury perfumes, yet it couldn't mask the more primal scent flowing beneath.

The men—these predators in custom suits, muscles bulging against their shirts—wore polite smiles, but their eyes had already stripped her bare, carrying a knowing amusement.

Here, sympathy was a rare commodity, especially not for someone like her, an obvious prey.

Isabella's gaze fluttered like a startled bird through the noise and distorted lights, until it landed on an island in the corner.

He was alone.

Sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing sinewy muscles beneath bronze skin, his build nearly twice that of others—like a beast that had wandered into a flock of sheep.

The dark suit on him seemed more like a restraint than decoration.

His shirt collar was slightly open, a sharp-lined leopard tattoo coiled on his chest, rising and falling with his breathing as if ready to leap out at any moment.

Women circled him like moths to flame, but he didn't even lift an eyelid, only spoke quietly with a server in some foreign language, his long fingers casually swirling his glass, the amber liquid refracting hazy light.

His very presence was like an invisible barrier.

Wherever he was, the wild behavior seemed quietly suppressed, laughter became cautious.

His deep gaze occasionally swept across his phone screen, a deadly, almost dangerous mystery surrounding him.

Isabella felt a nearly desperate attraction.

He might be an abyss, but he was also the only one who could pull her from the current swamp.

Colt ended his wet, passionate kiss with Sonia and precisely caught the direction of Isabella's stare.

A nasty smile crept across his lips.

He leaned to whisper to his companions, then raised his voice, sliding across the carpet like a venomous snake:

"Our Isabella!"

All eyes instantly focused.

"You can't back out of a bet. Since you're so unwilling to give your first time to me..." Colt deliberately paused, enjoying Isabella's trembling. "Then go to the first-class cabin area, find any man, and give away your virginity. That's fair enough, right?"

Laughter exploded like a bomb.

Sonia nestled against Colt, swirling her glass, her tone sweet but poisonous: "Colt, don't make it hard for her. My dear Isabella is afraid of even bugs—how could she have that kind of courage?"

"Right," Anina shrilled in agreement. "Might as well give it to you, Colt. You're family anyway."

Colt stepped closer, his alcohol-laced breath spraying on Isabella's ear, his gaze sliding stickily past her neckline: "Don't want to? Then stop wasting time and come with me."

His hand landed on her shoulder with force.

Isabella jerked free, her lower lip bitten to a pale mark.

Two choices lay before her like two rusty knives.

First time to the scumbag Colt, or to a complete stranger?

A stranger.

The moment this thought landed, the tattooed man happened to stand up.

He moved like a mountain, walking in her direction.

Isabella's heartbeat lost its rhythm.

Just as he was about to pass by, she didn't know where the courage came from—almost on instinct, she stepped forward.

Isabella crashed solidly into his chest, her nose hitting that rock-hard surface. A tingling numbness spread, and tears instantly welled up in her eyes.

A large hand steadily caught her waist, its strength startling.

"Sorry." The man's voice was deep, without any emotion. He released her and intended to continue walking.

Now!

Isabella shot out her hand, her cold fingers gripping his wrist tightly.

The moment skin touched skin, she could feel his steady pulse and the frightening power contained beneath his skin.

The entire venue suddenly went quiet.

Isabella lifted her head, forcing herself to meet those deep eyes that now held a trace of inquiry and indifference, using all her strength to push that shocking question through her trembling throat:

"Can you take my virginity?"

The man's brow furrowed sharply, as if he'd heard some incomprehensible language: "Sorry, what did you say?"

What answered her was Sonia's nearly broken scream and a rough pulling force.

Sonia yanked her back, nails digging into her arm, voice pressed low by extreme panic:

"Isabella! Are you crazy! You have no idea who you're messing with!"

Isabella shook off Sonia's hand and stood firmly back beside the tall man.

Her voice wasn't loud, but it clearly cut through the party's noise: "No, I choose him."

She lifted her head, her gaze flowing like a suddenly polished dusty gem, meeting the man's deep eyes: "Sir, please take me away from here, will you?"

The man didn't answer immediately.

He raised his hand, his defined knuckles carrying burning warmth, slowly caressing Isabella's cheek.

Finally, his thumb pressed with undeniable force against her slightly trembling lips.

He leaned close, his sharp woody scent mixed with lingering cigar smoke like an invisible net, trapping her completely.

Isabella felt an inexplicable heat.

"Alright," his deep voice resonated by her ear like a cello, "follow me. Supreme Private Room."

This sentence was like a stone thrown into a still lake—the ripples were the frozen breath and disbelieving stares throughout the venue.

This man had actually agreed to this strange girl's absurd request.

"She's done for." Sonia murmured from behind the crowd, her voice mixing jealousy with malicious pleasure. "With his build, that idiot Isabella can't possibly handle it."