Trapped by the Crippled CEO

Chapter 1

Stella's POV

The soft click of the door snapped me awake.

Lightning flashed, and a tall silhouette loomed in the doorway. He moved with a predator's grace, lethal and magnetic. My pulse spiked as his scent hit me—expensive cologne, subtle but unmistakable, curling into my lungs.

Years of Jiu-Jitsu kicked in. I rolled to dodge, but I was too slow. His hands clamped around my wrists like steel, slamming my back onto the mattress. His body pinned me down, heavy and hot, every hard line of him sinking into me through the flimsy silk of my nightgown.

"Who are you?" His voice was deep, dangerous, his breath scorching my neck.

A shiver raced through me—not fear, something else.

I twisted beneath him, trying to break free, but he pressed closer, his thigh shoving between my legs, grinding against me slow and deliberate. His chest crushed mine, one hand sliding up to grip my breast, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp.

His hips rocked forward, and I felt him—thick and rigid—pressing against my ass through his pants, the heat of it searing through the thin fabric. His lips grazed my jaw, stubble scraping my skin, and I couldn't stop the way my heart pounded, wild and unsteady.

"Let me go!" I hissed, but my voice cracked, betraying me. I yanked one arm free, shoving at him, only for him to grab my shoulder and flip me over, pinning me face-down. His mouth hovered by my ear, hot and teasing, while his groin pressed harder into me, that bulge rubbing me in a way that made my thighs clench.

Then it hit me. He was standing. Adam Lancaster—the supposed cripple—was standing.

He was my "groom" today, the heir to the Lancaster family, the one who’d supposedly been paralyzed in a car crash years ago. Everyone thought he was wheelchair-bound, too broken to even show up for his own wedding. But here he was, standing tall, legs working just fine, pinning me down like he owned the place.

"Damn," he muttered, low and almost admiring, as I managed to slip out from under him.

"I'm Mrs. Lancaster," I snapped, scrambling back to put space between us. "Leave now, or I'll call security—"

A dark chuckle sliced through the room. "Call who?"

The lights blazed on, and I froze, staring into the most striking green eyes I'd ever seen. He was tall, commanding, and very much in control of those legs. Before I could process it, his hand shot to my throat, shoving me against the wall, fingers brushing my pulse with a grip that was firm yet taunting.

"Weren't you calling security?" His tone was lazy, mocking, but his hold didn't budge.

I clawed at his wrist, gasping. "I won't… tell anyone about your legs!"

"Miss Winston," he spat my name like it burned his tongue, "you, some nobody, dare to dream of being my wife?"

He let go abruptly, and I slid down the wall, chest heaving. With slow, deliberate ease, he pulled a Dunhill cigarette from his pocket and lit it, the flame casting sharp shadows over a face that could've been carved by Michelangelo.

"I'll give you a chance," he said, exhaling smoke. "Pick how you want to disappear."

"Mr. Lancaster," I forced out, steadying my voice, "I'm your legal wife. You can't treat me like this!"

His laugh was cold, hollow. "Miss Winston, survive the storm tonight, and I might let you keep the title of Mrs. Lancaster."

A soft knock broke the tense atmosphere in the room.

"Sir?"

The deep male voice came from outside the door. I felt a wave of relief, but the man before me showed no signs of relaxing, his mesmerizing green eyes still locked on me.

"Come in," Adam 's voice was like ice shattering on marble—cold and cutting.

The door opened, and a tall butler with graying temples stood in the doorway. After a moment's hesitation, he didn't step into the room, seemingly aware of an inherent reverence for this space.

"Joseph, did you let her in?" Adam's face was as dark as the sky before a storm.

Joseph glanced at me, then quickly returned his gaze to Adam, his expression revealing complex emotions. He neither denied the accusation nor immediately admitted to it.

"Sir, if I may," he took a deep breath, his voice steady and respectful, "you can't remain alone forever. Madam has always favored Miss Winston as your wife ."

Adam's expression didn't shift in the slightest, as if Joseph's words were merely a breeze across water, raising no ripples in his heart.

"Joseph, this is the first and last time something like this happens," he said.

There was no anger in his tone, but this very calmness made it more chilling. Joseph slightly bowed his head and silently left the room, gently closing the door behind him.

I stood frozen, feeling like I was trapped in a predator's territory. Adam's gaze swept over my soaked nightgown, his lips curved in a mocking smile. He turned toward the floor-to-ceiling window, his tall figure showing no sign of any leg disability.

"A week ago, you were my nephew's fiancée, and now you're desperate to climb into my bed?" His voice was frighteningly calm. "Stella, your affections come cheap."

His words stabbed my heart like a knife, but I clenched my teeth, refusing to show any weakness.

"You think I want to 'climb' into anyone's bed?" I replied with equally cold tone. "The engagement was arranged between the Winston family and yours. I never had a choice."

Adam turned around, his eyes flashing with surprise, apparently not expecting such a response. But he quickly regained his impassive expression.

"Get out," he commanded briefly. "I don't need women throwing themselves at me. I'm not a charity."

I walked toward the door with my head held high, though my heart was shattered into pieces. I refused to bow my head before him. At the doorway, I turned back, looking directly into those green eyes.

"Mr. Lancaster, you're right. I won't stay here. But I won't let the Winstons win either. No matter what, I'll keep my position as Mrs. Lancaster—" I paused, "even if it's just in name."

With that, I opened the door and walked out, hearing his cold laughter behind me,"We'll see about that."