Chapter 10 Untamed Passion

Officially, Rhys and Chloe were husband and wife. In reality, they were two strangers locked in a five-star cage.The car moved away from the wedding venue, leaving the brief, quiet moment of their vows behind. Inside the silent, armored SUV, a world away from the eyes of the high and mighty who attended the wedding, the reality of their situation came crashing back.

Chloe sat pressed against the far door, her wedding dress feeling like a thousand yards of suffocating failure. She had the heavy, exhausted look of someone who had just survived a natural disaster. She didn’t look at Rhys. She didn’t have to. The contract has already been sealed.

Rhys sat beside Chloe, his body turned slightly towards the window, He hadn't spoken since they'd left the ballroom, not a word of apology or explanation for the rings, the lateness. He just smelled faintly of expensive scotch and perfume.

but his mind was a million miles away.

Rhys was staring straight ahead through the tinted glass, his jaw tight. The silence was a palpable, living thing, thick with all the questions Chloe refused to ask and all the answers Rhys refused to give.

“We’re here now, aren’t we?,” he had whispered at the altar.

He had made the scene. He had embarrassed her in front of every power player in the city. The memory of the officiant stammering, the crowd murmuring, and the absolute lack of a ring to seal their bargain still stung like a physical slap.

“The car is taking us through the private road to the estate in the hills,” Rhys said finally, his voice flat and low. It was the first time he'd spoken.

“I know the itinerary, Rhys,” Chloe replied angrily, her voice soft but firm. “I planned it.”

Chloe turned her head slowly, her eyes meeting his for the first time since the "I dos."

You arrived an hour late and forgot the symbol of this entire planned union, do you have any explanation for that?”

He dragged a hand across the back of his neck, his frustration barely contained. “The rings are a piece of metal, Chloe, The ceremony was a necessary performance. We are married. That is the only fact that matters. The rest was… a complication.”

“A complication that made a mockery of my family and me,” she countered. “A complication that convinced everyone present that you don’t care enough to remember basic human responsibilities, let alone a bride.”

“I had a legitimate emergency,” he snapped.

Chloe looked away again, defeated by his deflection. He would never admit fault. He was a brilliant, energetic body guard, and his business would always, always come first. She suddenly wished the car would pull over.

The silence returned, heavier now, laced with hostility. Rhys closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the leather. He didn’t want to look at her. He didn’t want to see the accusation in her eyes. It was easier to disappear back into the morning’s disaster, back to the memory that had nearly derailed his life.

9:00 AM – The Grand Suite,

The clock on the bedside table read 9:00 AM. He had set three alarms for 9:30 AM, giving himself plenty of time for the final fittings and the short drive to the ceremony. Rhys was already on his feet, pacing, feeling the familiar hum of pre-event energy. He was already wearing his black tuxedo trousers, a crisp white shirt and jacket.

He paused by the window, looking out over the city. It was a beautiful day for a wedding. A perfect day for the strategic merger of the Rhys and Chloe’s families. He had no romantic illusions, but he had respect for the deal. He intended to honor it.

He reached into the inside pocket of the jacket. The two velvet boxes, one large, one small, were there. The engagement diamond and the simple gold band. He felt the square, reassuring the weight of them. Everything was under control.

A faint, almost musical knock came at the door.

“Yes?” Rhys called out, assuming it was the glass of whisky he requested.

The door opened slowly. It wasn’t his drink.

Standing there, framed by the bright morning light of the hallway, was Olivia.

Rhys felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him cold.

“Hello, Rhys,” she said, her voice low,  that was instantly recognizable, instantly dangerous.

Olivia, his ex-wife. The one person capable of turning his controlled world into a bonfire. She was devastatingly beautiful, dressed in a way that managed to look both casual and utterly deliberate, a cream silk dress that slid over her curves.

“What are you doing here?” Rhys demanded, crossing the room in two strides. His voice was sharper than he intended.

She didn't answer the question. She simply walked past him, letting the door click shut behind her. Her eyes scanned the luxurious suite, settling first on the tuxedo jacket on him.

“I was hoping to congratulate you in person,” she said, walking toward the window. “And to confirm that you’re truly going through with this marriage ”

“It’s my business, and it’s none of your concern,” Rhys said, moving between her and the jacket, shielding it instinctively. “You need to leave, Olivia. Now. I’m due to be married in one hour.”

She laughed, a low, breathy sound that made his stomach clench with years of conflicting emotions. “Oh, I know. That’s why I’m here. I'm here to congratulate you before you sign over your life to a quiet, pretty little thing who can’t possibly understand you.”

She closed the distance between them, standing so close that he could smell the rich, smoky scent of her perfume, a scent that had haunted his dreams for years. He felt the heat radiating from her skin.

“Chloe is nothing like you, Rhys,” Olivia whispered, her fingers tracing the line of his collarbone. “She’s sensible. She’s safe. And she’s boring.”

Her eyes, still the color of warm honey, met his. “You don’t want sensible, darling. You want… fierce.. you want this.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down, and her lips found his. It wasn't a sweet kiss; it was a detonation. It was memory and regret and passion all rolled into one fierce, demanding contact. Rhys felt himself reeling, drowning in the sudden, shocking familiarity of her touch. His hands went automatically to her exposed boobs, the years of separation vanishing in an instant. This was the fire he had fled, the chaos he knew he couldn’t live without, the kind of passion that destroyed everything around it.