Ruthless Knight: An Arranged Marriage Romance (Ruthless Billionaires Book 1)

It’s time.

The moment has finally arrived.

I’m getting married in the next few minutes.

I’m at the NYIT de Seversky Mansion, a prestigious estate located on Long Island’s historic Gold Coast. It’s the kind of elegant stately mansion you’d see on TV or a lifestyle magazine listed as the location for some celeb wedding. I never thought I would visit it, let alone get married here.

I’m standing behind the large oak doors of the grand hallway with Dad and my wedding party, which includes Madison, Skye, and three of my other friends.

We’re waiting for the doors to open so we can walk outside, where the ceremony will take place.

We all look amazing, but I look like a fairy tale princess in my beautiful wedding dress.

Elizabeth Herman, celebrity wedding designer, did a phenomenal job with my one-of-a-kind dress that has a sleeveless lace bodice covered in specks of diamonds and a long flowing satin skirt.

Everything would be perfect if this were real, but today is just another act in the show.

“Are you okay?” Dad asks, touching my cheek.

“I’m fine.” I must sound like a broken record. That’s all I’ve been saying all week, in that same hushed monotone my father will recognize as the voice I use when I’m actually not fine.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

This would almost feel like a déjà vu moment crossing over with the night I was supposed to get engaged to Nathan.

I try to breathe past the knots rising into my throat, but it’s no easier for me than steadying my mind.

At least I am breathing. And I’m here.

I made it this far. Now I just have to get through this part.

The part that feels like the hardest to me.

My thoughts cut when the doors open, and harp music playing The Wedding March fills the air.

Dad and I exchange glances of strength, then he gives my hand a gentle squeeze and leans in to plant a kiss on my forehead.

“Thank you,” he mutters just low enough for me to hear.

“Always.” I smile back at him, then we take the first step outside together and walk onto the terrace.

The wedding party follows, and we make our descent down the wide, sweeping stone steps leading out to the breathtakingly gorgeous garden I’ve seen in movies and TV shows.

There, three hundred guests are gathered together sitting on rose gold Chiavari chairs with chiffon sashes connecting each row.

But my eyes go straight to Knight standing at the bottom of the garden under the white rose-covered gazebo.

My heart stops at the sight of him and the rawness of his striking looks that overpower everything and everyone here.

Dressed in a black tux with his hair cut shorter and his beard neatly trimmed, he’s the absolute definition of GQ handsome.

Everything and everyone fade into the background the longer I look at him and the closer I get. It’s not until I’m nearly with Knight that I see the priest in front of him and Jericho and his grandfather next to him.

I notice there’s no sign of his father, or that side of his family. To me, it’s sad, but as I still don’t know the story behind them and suspect it’s not a good one, perhaps it’s a good thing they’re not here.

In the front row I do, however, spot a woman standing next to Knight’s grandmother. She has to be his mother. She appears too young to be his mother but looks like him and has the same untamed beauty and elegance with her waist-length black hair, heart-shaped face, and slim build like a fashion model.

She’s looking at me the same way his grandmother is, as if she thinks I’m truly Knight’s dream bride. The heartfelt smile she’s giving me could almost make me believe everything will be okay.

I manage to push my nerves aside and smile back briefly, but then I look back at Knight, who is now a breath away.

We close the space between us, and suddenly, Dad is giving Knight my hand.

His large hand swallows mine, and there’s a sharp shift in the air I feel in my core. It tells me everything as I know it will change forever from this moment on.

Our eyes lock, and I gaze deeply into those eyes as blue as the point where the sky meets the sea. I find myself slipping away into the depths as memories of how he consumed me nights ago fill my mind. Each image covers every corner of my mind and flows through my body like liquid fire, reigniting scandalous pleasure.

I have to blink to focus and compose my thoughts.

This is it.

There’s no turning back now.

“Welcome, everyone,” the priest begins and proceeds to give a speech about love, vows, and marriage.

Soon, Knight and I are taking those vows.

I speak mine, and he speaks his, repeating after the priest.

The rings are exchanged, then suddenly, we’re being pronounced husband and wife, and I’m no longer Aurora Wright.

I remember being twelve and having my surname changed from my mother’s maiden name to my father’s. That was such a happy day. I felt complete in ways I couldn’t describe.

Now I’m Aurora Grayson; it doesn’t have the same feeling. It can’t because this is a broken fairy tale.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest declares.

Knight leans down to kiss me. When his lips touch mine, I expect the gloom I experienced to amplify, but it doesn’t. Then I remember our kisses have never felt fake.

This kiss is one of those, but it holds whispers of the other night hidden in every brush of his lips against mine.

When he pulls away, I have to compose myself again because the heat of his kiss is still burning my lips.

Knight moves to my ear and brushes a kiss on my cheek. “Careful, mon cherie,” he whispers. “With a kiss like that, I might think you like being married to me.”

“I’m a good actress,” I whisper back, a half lie.

“But you weren’t acting.”

Just then the press descends on us like a flock of vultures, robbing me of my chance to answer. I don’t know what I would have said anyway that wouldn’t prove him right.

Pictures of us get taken left and right. Every time I blink, there’s a flash from some camera or some journalist wishing us congratulations whilst trying to sneak in a mini-interview.

I was already aware, well in advance, that getting married to one of the most sought-after men in New York would cause a stir, but this is something else.

After what feels like an eternity of a never-ending photoshoot, Knight’s grandfather and bodyguards put a stop to it so we can continue with the planned activities for the rest of the day.

It’s only at that moment that Knight’s mother approaches us with who I presume must be her husband because his arm is around her and she’s wearing a wedding ring.

“Hello,” she greets in a rich French accent, giving me a hug.

“Hi.”

“I’m Elodie, Knight’s mother, but you probably already guessed that.” She looks from me to Knight, who seems more at ease in the presence of his mother.

“I did.”

“This is my husband, Maurice.”

Maurice dips his head and offers me a smile.

“It’s great to meet you both,” I say.

“Welcome to the family.” Elodie beams.

“Thank you.”

“I can’t imagine where my son has been hiding you, but I’m glad we’ve finally met. Now I might get the chance to paint you.”

I laugh, but it clicks that she must be where Knight gets his artistic talents from.

“Mother, please.” Knight rolls his eyes, and the two launch into a conversation in French.

It ends with Elodie tapping his shoulder as she has the last word.

“She insists on painting you,” Knight explains.

“I’d be honored, but I’ve never done anything like that before.” I grin.

An easy smile plays at the corners of her full red lips. “I just need you.”

“That sounds great.”

Well, at least I don’t have to worry about her liking me. She does.

We fall into an easy conversation about her galleries in France and the art shows she puts on throughout the course of the year. Most of the day is spent with her, Maurice, and my father, right up to the reception where Knight and I have our first dance, then we sit together at the head table with our friends and family for dinner.

Knight goes off with his grandfather after, and we lose each other.

When an hour passes and he doesn’t come back, Madison and I head to the ladies’ room for a little break. I get a face towel when we walk inside and dampen it with cold water to dab my cheeks.

“Are you okay? You seem to be holding up well.” A hopeful smile brightens her face.

I lean against the wall and hold the towel to my cheek. “I’m okay. Just tired now.” I’m actually exhausted. After she left last night, it took me awhile to get to sleep. “I’m barely awake.”

She laughs. “At least you still look fabulous. You wear tiredness well. When are you guys leaving?”

“I have no idea.” It’s already eight. I can’t imagine us being here for much longer as most people, including Dad, have already left.

I don’t know what’s happening tomorrow either. When Knight was asked about our honeymoon by one of the reporters, he said we were going to a secret location. I assumed he meant home because I haven’t been told anything about that. All I was told was to block off next week for various post-wedding activities.

“Well, let’s grab some more champagne and make the most of the night.” Madison rubs her hands together. “Might as well enjoy ourselves while we can.”

“Sure.” I sound chirpy about the idea, but I was hoping to look for Knight.

We leave the bathroom, and her phone rings when we reach the hallway.

“Oh, I have to take this.” She winces, checking her phone. “It’s Chad. Grab me a drink. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Sure. Tell him I said hi.” I grin, loving the sight of the flush in her cheeks.

“I will.” She walks the other way, and I continue down the hallway.

I feel slightly lighter now that the day is practically over, but the blanket of uncertainty still hangs heavy in the air. That uncertainty is something I know I’ll have to face as the days go by.

Today is the start of the countdown to the end. Things will be very different now that Knight and I are married, but I don’t know how we’ll be with each other.

I don’t even know when I’ll see him again after tonight.

Or what will happen when I do.

I glance at the ring on my finger for the umpteenth time and think about what it symbolizes.

I’m Knight’s wife now.

Weeks ago, we didn’t even know each other, and now we’re till death do us part. Or rather until we sign those divorce papers in six months’ time.

What will that be like?

I continue down the hallway, shaking the perturbed thought from my head. Even in my situation, it’s not exactly the best thought for a bride on her wedding day.

I turn off onto the short cut I discovered earlier. This route will take me back to the rear entrance of the reception hall where my table is.

I’m thankful that there’s no one around to stop me and strike up any new conversations. I’m kind of all talked out.

Just before I reach the door, I hear Knight’s voice. And Chelle’s.

Is this where he’s been for the last hour?

With her?

All day, I’ve ignored Chelle as if she wasn’t even here, but hearing her with Knight irks me the same way it did the other day when she dropped her little comments about her relationship with Knight. I’m still on the fence about that.

I follow the sound of their voices and find them in one of the function rooms.

As the door is partly open, they can’t see me, and I don’t intend to alert them to my presence.

It might be crafty, and yes, I may be feeding my envy, but if I were ever going to find out what they are and aren’t, it will be at a time like now.

“Write an official letter on Monday and make sure Jeffery understands he can’t change his offer based on those reasons.” Knight steps in front of Chelle and squares his shoulders.

At least they’re talking about business.

“And if he insists?” Chelle sets her hands on her hips.

“If he insists, then I’m not working with him anymore. It’s as simple as that, and there will be no further discussion.”

“Testy, testy.” Chelle steps closer to him, too close for my liking, and tugs on his already loose tie. “I remember when you used to be fun. And when you’d go wild whenever I wore pink.”

Bitch. That’s why she’s wearing a Barbie-pink cocktail dress.

How tasteless and classless of her. My marriage might be arranged, but couldn’t she be respectful today of all the days?

Maybe she thinks because it’s nighttime now, she’s already paid her dues.

“I think you need to go home now, Chelle,” Knight replies, his voice firm.

Her smile becomes a seductive grin, and she flutters her fingers over his chest. “I remember when you used to take me home and we’d stay in bed for days.”

So, I was right. They do have a past. But what about now, the present?

“Chelle, try to stay on my good side. We already talked about this.”

“We did. But I think you’re just stressed.”

“I’m not stressed.”

“I think you are,” she coos. “Let’s face it. That little bookworm of a wife you have isn’t going to satisfy your needs the way I can.” She presses herself against him.

When he doesn’t push her away, my temper flares.

“Come on, Knight, look at me. I’m all yours, and I’m not wearing any panties. Just the way you like me. Give me five minutes. We can slip away like we used to, and I can take care of your needs.”

She stands on the tips of her toes and kisses his jaw, then she starts loosening his tie.

When he doesn’t stop her, I back away. I don’t need to see him kiss her or slip away into one of the rooms to know what will happen next.

I guess I got my answer, though.

Knight and Chelle are more than work colleagues. And this… this is what my life will be like for the next six months.

That crap talk about not cheating was complete bullshit, but I was stupid enough to believe him. Like an idiot, I believed all the other stuff he said too.

Sorry, Madison, I can’t take your advice. I have to be perpetual-comfort-zone careful for the next six months. If I’m not, I can see this craziness pushing me over the edge of insanity.

But honestly, I feel like I’m already there at the bottom looking up.

With a hole in my heart, I continue down the path until I’m back in the reception hall. I need to find Madison and leave.

“More wine for the bride?” a waiter asks, floating up to me with a celebratory smile. He holds up a bottle of wine and a long-stemmed crystal glass.

I blink back tears. If I don’t, they might spill out with my words when I speak.

“Yes, thanks,” I answer, trying to sound as cheerful as I can.

When he goes to pour the drink in the glass, I have a better idea, so I stop him.

“Can I just have the bottle, please?”

“Of course.” He hands it to me, and I turn back the way I came, grabbing another bottle of champagne from a table by the door.

I walk back into the hallway and take a gulp of the wine.

It’s strong and bitter. Good. I need strong and bitter.

Something to help me forget this nightmare and everything else to come.

This is that thing again coming back to bite me in the ass.

That thing—my feelings for Knight.

Something I didn’t want to acknowledge even when they were staring me in the face.

I knew what I signed up for, and who and what Knight Grayson was when I signed my life over to him, so this hurt I feel is all my fault.

All mine.

Not his.

He was always the devil.

Right from the start.