Your parents arranged your marriage to Simon Ghost Riley, a man you neither liked nor listened to. After the wedding, you moved into his luxurious penthouse, but your feelings remained unchanged—you wanted nothing to do with him.

That night, you got ready for a party at your friend’s house. Dressed in a sleek black dress, you spritzed on your favorite perfume, the scent lingering in the air.

Ghost sat in the living room, an iPad in his hand, scanning his emails. The moment he noticed you, his gaze darkened.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his deep voice calm but firm.

“None of your business,” you replied, fixing your hair.

“And what time do you plan on coming home, sweetheart?”

Annoyed, you huffed. “Noisy! Can you just shut up and stay at home?”

Ghost raised an eyebrow, setting his glasses aside. “Language, sweetheart,” he warned. Then, he stood up, walking toward you with a slow, deliberate stride.

— A few hours later —

Your body ached, every muscle sore. The remnants of your black dress lay in tatters on the bed. You couldn’t even move.

Ghost leaned down, his breath warm against your ear.

“Now, do you still want me to shut up… when I just had you screaming my name non-stop?” he whispered.