JASMINE'S POV
Stark Global Ventures towered over the city, its glass and steel structure shining brightly in the morning sun. The name was carved in gold above the entrance, standing out impressively, just like him.
My fingers tightened around the wedding band in my pocket, reminding me of last night's drunken lapse in judgement.
And now, I was about to march straight into the lion's den to demand answers from the bastard who let this happen.
I stormed through the elegant marble lobby, my heels clicking sharply against the floor.
The receptionist—a perfectly put-together blonde—looked up in alarm as I approached. With a warm yet puzzled smile, she greeted me, "Good morning, ma'am! How can I help you today?"
I paused momentarily before saying, "I'm here to meet with your boss, Axel Stark Frost. What floor?"
The way I said his name in full probably got to her because I could see the shock in her eyes as she replied, "Top floor."
"Thanks," I said, turning around to the elevator.
She called back immediately, though. "Uhm, I'm sorry, ma'am, but do you have an appointment?"
"I don't need one." I didn't break my stride. "I'm his wife."
The words tasted foreign on my tongue, but if I had to weaponise them to get through those damn doors, so be it.
A gasp. A few hushed whispers. But I didn't care.
The receptionist was still speaking, but I only caught a few words before the doors slid open.
"Wait—did she say she's his—"
I jabbed the elevator button, stepping inside just as the doors slid open and hit the top floor.
The ride up felt suffocating.
My pulse hammered in my ears, my heart racing with every floor that ticked by. What the hell was I walking into? What kind of man lets a woman wake up married to him without so much as a phone call?
The elevator chimed, revealing a hallway with one door at the end.
The doors opened smoothly as I approached, showing a very modern and large office that felt just as intimidating as its owner.
The moment I stepped inside, I felt it.
Power.
It filled the air, blending into the room with its sharp edges, dark wood, and large windows that showed the city skyline.
And there he was.
Aiden Stark Frost, seated calmly behind a large oak desk, his fingers pressed together under his chin. The morning light streamed in through the glass windows behind him, creating a golden halo around his broad shoulders and sculpted features. Like a fallen god ruling over his empire.
His eyes—dark, unreadable, dangerous—settled on me the moment I stepped inside. For a moment, I could see a hint of amusement in them, as if he had been expecting this.
He slowly scanned my body, taking his time to look me over like he had all the time in the world.
Like he had been expecting me.
I slammed the marriage certificate onto his desk, my breath coming too fast, too sharp. "Fix this. Now."
He didn't even flinch.
Instead, he leaned back, giving off an infuriating, almost lazy confidence as his gaze flicked over me, assessing, measuring, consuming.
"Expected you sooner, wifey."
I bristled at the word, my nails digging into my palms. "I'm not your wife."
"Funny." His lips curved. "That's not what you told the receptionist a few minutes ago."
I froze.
He watched me in amusement. "Yeah, they informed me, which is technically not a lie because legally, you are. So which is it, sweetheart? Wife or not?"
"This—" I stabbed a finger at the marriage certificate. "This isn't real. This is a goddamn mistake, and we're fixing it right now."
His lips curved—just slightly. "Are we?"
I hated how smooth his voice was, how it slid over my skin like warm silk and cold steel all at once.
I crossed my arms. "I want an annulment."
His dark eyes gleamed. "But you know that's not possible; annulments require mutual consent. Mine, and yours."
I froze. "You're refusing?"
He tilted his head slightly as if indulging me, his fingers tapping against the polished desk. "Tell me, Jasmine. Do you really remember nothing?"
A sharp prickle ran down my spine.
His gaze burned into me. Knowing. Challenging.
"You don't remember Vegas?"
I swallowed hard.
"You don't remember our wedding night?"
My heartbeat roared in my ears.
"And you don't remember," he continued, voice like a dark promise, "the pact we made?"
What?
My stomach dropped. "What pact?"
His smirk was slow. Deliberate. Like he was enjoying every second of my torment.
"Our marriage pact. Unity in public, freedom in private… until you carry my heir."
The air rushed out of my lungs as I stared at him, horrified. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." His voice was calm and measured.
"An heir?" I choked out.
He leaned forward, his fingers lacing together as if he had all the time in the world. "You think I'd agree to a marriage without terms, sweetheart?"
I gripped the edge of his desk, trying to stay upright. "You expect me to have your child?"
Aiden's low, dark chuckle rolled through the air like thunder. "Apparently, past-you found the prospect of my child… compelling."
I was going to be sick.
He reached for something on his desk, tapped his screen, and suddenly, a video began playing.
I forced myself to look.
The camera was shaky, taken at some ridiculous angle, but there I was, laughing, my arms around Aiden's neck.
I looked happy.
I looked like I wanted him.
Aiden leaned in, whispering something in my ear. I couldn't hear what he said, but I saw the way my body reacted—how my fingers curled into his shirt, how I swayed into him.
My recorded self giggled, eyes hazy with whiskey. "God, Aiden. Let's just do it. Marry me."
I sucked in a sharp breath.
No. No, no, no.
Aiden tapped again, and the video jumped forward.
I saw myself pulling him into a courthouse, grinning. I saw our hands intertwined. I saw the way he looked at me—like he had already decided I was his.
And then, clear as day—me, whispering against his lips before I kissed him.
"Mark me so I don't forget."
I choked.
"This is all a lie," I whispered.
Aiden smirked. "See for yourself."
I wanted to look away.
But there it was—me, grinning like a lovestruck fool, wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing my lips to his like I couldn't get enough.
His voice dipped lower. "Not only did you agree, sweetheart… you practically begged me."
I stumbled back, shaking my head. No. No, no, no.
I turned on him, furious, desperate. "You could have stopped me. You should have stopped me!"
His jaw ticked. Just slightly. "I did. Twice. You were… insistent."
I clutched my head. I was going to be sick.
I crossed my arms, forcing down the panic, the strange, unexplainable pull toward him. "You don't need me. You can have anyone."
"No!" he growled, and then, his pupils flickered.
For the briefest second, I saw it—a flash of red.
But it was gone so fast, I almost thought I imagined it.
No. No, that was just—just the light.
Aiden exhaled slowly. "I don't want just anyone." His voice dropped into something lower, rougher, sounding almost like a growl. "I want you."
My pulse skipped.
I scowled. "Why?"
He paused, his expression hinting at something dangerous. Then, smoothly, "Because you're my wife."
I let out a bitter laugh. "That's not an answer."
His smirk widened. "Alright. Here's the truth, Jasmine."
He leaned in, voice like smoke and sin. "You were never just anyone. You were always meant to be mine."
A shiver danced down my spine.
His smirk widened as he continued. "And that aside, sweetheart, you told me something interesting last night."
I stilled.
"You told me you'd rather sell your soul than marry Alexander Richardson."
A chill crawled up my spine.
"You said," Aiden continued smoothly, "that you'd rather marry a complete stranger than let your father control you."
My stomach twisted.
Aiden leaned back, completely relaxed. "So, tell me, Jasmine… what's it going to be?"
I didn't speak.
His voice turned mocking. "Do you want to run back to Daddy? Let Alex parade you around as his fiancée?"
A lump formed in my throat.
He watched me, satisfied. He knew he had me.
"I'm offering you freedom, sweetheart. One year, and you're done. No Alex. No forced engagement. No father breathing down your neck."
I clenched my fists. "You son of a—"
Before I could finish, Aiden reached into his desk drawer, and something small and velvet landed on the desk between us. A ring box.
I stared. "What the—"
Aiden flipped it open to reveal an undoubtedly expensive diamond. "I was just about to send this to you. We never got around to picking a ring last night."
"I'm here to annul this sham, and you're bringing out a ring. Are you insane?!"
He looked thoughtful. "Possibly. You did say you liked emerald-cut diamonds, though. But if you don't like this, we can go over some designs… together."
I was going to kill him.
I shook my head, stepping back. "NO! No rings, no wedding. I want to annul this marriage. I want out."
He exhaled slowly as if indulging a child. "And then what?"
It was almost as if he was getting frustrated and impatient, but still trying to hold back his anger. "I told you. Annulment papers require my signature, and I definitely won't watch you go back to him."
I clenched my fists. "So what do you want from me?"
His dark amusement sharpened into something colder. Something final.
"You have two choices," he said, his eyes searing into me as his fingers tapped the edge of the marriage certificate, so effortlessly in control.
"Remain as my wife for one year," he paused, as if for dramatic effect, "Or give me an heir."