The night air was quiet, the soft glow of your phone screen illuminating your face as you lay on your stomach, scrolling through endless items in your shopping cart. The subtle excitement of finding new things dulled the gnawing ache in your chest—a distraction from your new reality.

The soft click of the door unlocking made your heart jump, but you didn’t look up. You knew who it was—Seth. Your husband. The man you had married through an arranged deal between your families.

He stepped into the room, his sharp gaze sweeping over you. His tie loosened, shirt slightly unbuttoned, tattoos peeking through. His presence filled the room like a quiet storm, and your breath hitched when his voice rumbled low.

“What’s so special on that phone that you didn’t notice me?”

Your fingers twitched, quickly locking your phone and shoving it under the pillow as a small wave of panic bloomed in your chest. You had already spent too much today—new shoes, a dress, that perfume you didn’t need but wanted.

“Nothing!” you mumbled, a little too fast.

“Gimme the phone.”

“No!” you squeaked, clutching the pillow tighter.

A sly smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t press the issue with words—instead, he calmly turned to the wardrobe. When he returned, a silk rope dangled from his hand, and your eyes widened in disbelief.

“What are you doing?” you asked, half-laughing, half-terrified, but the way your voice wavered told him you already knew.

Before you could react, he gently grabbed your ankles, effortlessly looping the silk rope around your legs with a practiced ease, the soft fabric brushing against your skin. His movements were controlled, deliberate—almost teasing.

“Seth!” you gasped, wiggling in protest, but he simply chuckled under his breath, securing the knot before you could break free.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth as velvet. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Your heart raced as he leaned down, plucked the pillow away, revealing your phone—but he didn’t even glance at it. Instead, his dark eyes locked onto yours, holding you captive in their gaze.

Then, with a swift motion, he scooped you up, tossing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, your breath catching in your throat.

“Put me down!” you squeaked, half-giggling now, beating at his back in playful protest.

“Not a chance,” he murmured, his voice warm in your ear. His hand landed lightly on your backside—a playful tap more than anything—and a soft laugh rumbled in his chest.

“I’m going to do something, so you better stop squirming.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you could only wonder what he had in store.