As Amanda slid into the plush interior of my Rolls Royce, a fiercely defiant fire blazed in her emerald eyes.
She squirmed in her seat, her arguments spilling forth like a torrent of protest.
"Let go of me! I am not marrying someone like you!" Her voice rang strong and clear, echoing against the luxurious leather trim around us.
The tension in the air was palpable as I leaned closer, my voice a low, menacing whisper that hung between us like a shroud.
"Do you have any inkling of what happens when you disobey me?" I grit my teeth, my frustration boiling just beneath the surface.
No woman had ever dared stand her ground against me like this; my patience was wearing thin, fraying at the edges.
"I don't care who or what you think you are; trust me, you don't want to test those limits," Amanda shot back, her voice unwavering despite the fearsome reputation I commanded.
Her steely resolve only deepened the intrigue that surrounded her; she was a tempest, wild and untamed.
A bitter chuckle escaped my lips, a blend of fascination and annoyance.
No matter the accolades I had gathered, the empires I had built, Amanda Michaelson remained a daunting enigma, unwavering in her disapproval of me.
"Why is it that you're so adamantly against marrying someone like me? There are countless women out there who would kill for the chance to be in your position right now," I remarked, indulging in the absurdity of the situation.
"I don't like you, and I don't want to marry you. Period." Her declaration was firm, reinforcing her stance as if it were an unassailable fortress, impenetrable by my charm or wealth.
"Boyles!" I called out, summoning my unyielding bodyguard, who seemed to understand both the urgency and the gravity of our debate.
With effortless strength, he lifted her from her seat, carrying her as though she were a child throwing a tantrum.
Amanda thrashed, her petite frame kicking and hitting at him in outrage, her words a rapid-fire assault.
"Let me go! This is child abuse! I could take you to court for this, Killian Drakes!" she hollered, her face a mixture of anger and incredulous disbelief.
I couldn't help but smirk at her theatrics, her spirited rebellion only serving to heighten my amusement.
"To Louis Malik clothing brands," I ordered my driver, my focus unwavering as Amanda continued her futile protest.
"Open this door, Killian! Stop this ridiculousness!" she demanded, but her words fell on deaf ears.
I was resolute, and the purpose of this drive was crystal clear.
"We're going to get you a wedding dress," I informed her, my tone dismissive as I tuned out her persistent rattlings.
"Listen, Killian, this isn't going to work. I'm not the type of woman your family would ever accept.
I don't fit the mold of that perfect lady, and besides, I'm far too young for this nonsense!" She offered her reasoning, a spirited defense against a fate she vehemently opposed.
"Oh really…" I feigned understanding, my expression a mask of faux concern masking the deeper layers of my intentions.
"But tell me, what's so bad about being a mother at eighteen? When did I ever say I needed a lady?" My voice dripped with sarcasm, as I leaned back comfortably, relishing in the moment.
"And besides," I added, my gaze appraising her with intent, "you don't look half bad, you're actually my type."
It's bare the truth as I watched her reaction, fully aware that I was playing a dangerous game.
The question lingered in the air, charged with the potential for chaos and unexpected desire.
"you look absolutely stunning today, wifey," I murmured, my voice deep and laced with playful mischief as my fingertips traced invisible lines on her bare thighs, teasingly close to crossing boundaries I knew well.
Amanda smacked my hand away with a little more force than necessary.
"Don't even think about pushing your luck," she warned, her tone sharp and resolute, a fire igniting in her eyes that only made me more intrigued.
"Reid," I called, maintaining my gaze locked firmly on Amanda's.
The charge between us was palpable, an electric storm brewing just beneath the surface.
"Yes, boss," Reid responded quickly, his attention snapping towards me.
"Have the payments and transactions been completed?" I inquired, seeking confirmation while still captivated by the intensity of Amanda's stare.
"Yes, boss. We've successfully moved Mrs. Drake's belongings to your residence," Reid informed me dutifully.
"You're officially mine now, sweetheart," I declared, a sly grin spreading across my face as triumph danced in my thoughts.
"Dream on, Killian. I absolutely hate you," she shot back, her tone dripping with disdain, yet I could sense the slightest tremor beneath her bravado.
"Feelings are mutual, darling," I replied, nodding thoughtfully, a smirk lingering as we sped toward our destination.
A short drive later, we arrived at Louis Malik's clothing brands.
Without waiting, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the chic establishment, my mind set on a spectacular gown.
"I need a stunning white wedding dress for this lovely lady right here," I announced to the overwhelmed receptionist, my tone commanding and direct.
"Yes, sir!" she responded, her eyes wide with surprise and eagerness as she peered at Amanda.
"What do you think you're doing, Killian?" Amanda's voice escalated, the panic clear in every syllable.
"If you don't call off this ridiculous marriage, I certainly will!" she warned, fists clenched at her sides.
"Ma'am, these happen to be our latest collections," the sales associate interjected, holding up a long,
elegant white dress that seemed to shimmer under the store lights, captivating or perhaps horrifying my unwilling bride.
"That'll do just fine," I grinned, relishing in the thrill of this unorthodox adventure. Leaning in close, I whispered conspiratorially to Amanda,
"You'd better try this on, or I promise you'll despise me even more in the next ten minutes."
Her eyes flashed with a mixture of dread and defiance, a priceless expression I couldn't help but smile at, it was not often I managed to catch her off guard.
In a fit of irritation, she stomped off toward the dressing room, and I took my place on a nearby chair, casting glances at my watch as seconds ticked by.
Fearful of my intentions, was she? I scoffed internally at her apparent vulnerability.
"I thought you were headstrong," I called out teasingly, watching her retreat.
"Just remember, after this, we're getting divorced in a month. I'm not promising anything beyond that," she threw over her shoulder, her voice a mix of fury and determination.
Less than five minutes later, she emerged from the dressing room, the dress cascading elegantly around her, but her expression was far from pleased.
Still, there was a spark that ignited something within me.
"Perhaps you're more afraid of me than you let on," I mused half-jokingly, observing how her posture stiffened.
We acquired our marriage certificate next, a frigid formality that nonetheless filled me with a sense of satisfaction.
I handed her one copy while clutching my own. I couldn't resist glancing at the ring adorning her fourth finger, a symbol of our bizarre union.
"Congratulations, you're Mrs. Drake from this moment on. Now, let's hurry to the hospital," I instructed, an undercurrent of mischief in my tone.
"What hospital?" Amanda interjected, confusion painting her features.
"We're going to visit my father," I replied, my voice level and cool.
"I have to be at work. It's urgent," she insisted, her tone firm yet brimming with uncertainty.
"Then postpone it, or I'll shut down your entire operation with a simple phone call," I warned, my tone dipped in steel.
I watched as disbelief washed over her, her eyes widening at my bold threat.
"You don't want that, do you?" I asked, feigning sweetness as I tucked a stray hair behind her ear, a gesture both tender and teasing.
She yanked my hand away with enough force to remind me she still had her own agency.
"You can't control my life," she asserted fiercely, but the fire in her words only made me admire her more.
With that, she stormed off to the car, leaving me lingering in the chaotic mix of admiration and intrigue, the storm between us brewing ever stronger.