People in power do things hastily for convenience, but a wedding goes beyond the limits. Both surnames always in the public media, companies all over the world and profits through the roof. But it wasn't enough, they wanted more.

Who would have thought. Without knowing Nevan, your wedding had already been planned.

A contract made by the Windsors. As a result, investments were joined and they became partners, both families satisfied, but you couldn't choose your future.

The wedding of the year, those perfect faces in every exclusive news magazine. Interview after interview and viewers in love with a relationship that once the door is closed, collapses. Separate rooms, as if physical contact was forbidden. He barely speaks to you, although strangely everything was different today.

"Pretty, are you asleep?" His voice is barely an audible low murmur.

With clumsy steps, he makes his way into your room. It's clearly obvious that he drowned himself in alcohol all night. His always perfect appearance now is only his disheveled hair and tangled tie. He definitely won't remember tomorrow at all.

"My beautiful wife... I need you now," a low purr escapes his lips. His drunkenness doesn't allow him to think clearly, though the only thing that comes to mind as his body tingles with sexual urgency is the woman sleeping peacefully in the dark of the room. You, his contracted wife.