Sweet Hatred
Chapter 139: wedding preparation...

Chapter 139: wedding preparation...

I pushed his face away, irritated again. "You didn’t even let me wear the dress."

"You mean the one that almost got torn off your body?"

Ah, so that was his plan. He wasn’t letting me off either way. This bastard.

"You tore me, Kael."

He just laughed again, but I was already trying to get up. Except... my legs folded the second they hit the floor, and I dropped to my knees with a quiet fuck.

Immediately, he was off the bed, crouched beside me. "You okay?"

"No," I hissed, my glare sharp enough to cut steel.

"You need help?"

"I need you to not exist right now."

He smiled like a damn devil and started to lift me. "You’ve got a long day, I can—"

"Drop me! I don’t need your help—"

And he did.

Kind of.

He lowered me just enough that I wasn’t bruised, but still held onto my arms as he leaned in and kissed my face, featherlight and slow.

I shoved at his chest. "No. I’m not letting you touch me until I recover."

He pulled back, brows raised. "That could take days."

"Exactly."

"That’s not fair."

I narrowed my eyes. "You should’ve thought about that while digging in me like I had a treasure chest hidden in my womb."

He blinked, then burst out laughing. "You did, baby. And you can take a good pounding well."

"Don’t talk to me."

I limped to the bathroom like a wounded soldier, barely able to stand straight, closing the door dramatically behind me.

By the time I came out, towel-dried and still tender in places I’d rather not mention, a tray of food had appeared on the nightstand along with a small bottle of pain relief pills. A handwritten note sat beside them:

"2 pills.

With food.

No tantrums.

– K

P.S. I can throw in a massage too if you ask nicely."

A silly little face with a wink was doodled at the bottom.

"...He’s so stupid," I muttered.

And somehow, so stupidly adorable.

I scarfed down the breakfast, took the damn pills like a good girl, and glanced at the black velvet box again. The dress.

I had to see how it looked. I had to.

So I slipped it on slowly, careful with every movement because the dull throbbing ache in my core never stopped, and once I was finally standing in front of the mirror, I blinked.

"...Damn."

It hugged me like it was stitched by angels, gliding down every curve with sinful precision.

And just as I tilted my head, admiring the cut at the back and the way it flowed...

Knock knock.

I jumped.

Wait—Kael never knocks.

Frowning, I padded to the door and cracked it open.

It wasn’t him.

It was a woman. Mid-forties, elegant, polite.

She bowed slightly. "Good morning, Miss Aria. Master Kael instructed me to assist you in getting ready for the wedding. Everything you need is already arranged."

My eye twitched. Of course he did.

Because even when he wasn’t touching me, the man couldn’t stop owning me.

....

I sat still—well, tried to—my whole body both inside and out still ached as hands flitted around me like butterflies in a storm. One woman was pinning, another was stitching, someone else kept adjusting the waistline while mumbling something about "accentuating the silhouette." I had no clue what they were doing, but I didn’t dare move.

The dress Kael had picked for me was already beautiful, but apparently, it wasn’t beautiful enough.

One of them offered me a glass of sparkling something—I think it was elderflower water, but it tasted like money—in a crystal flute like I was some duchess of a country I couldn’t even pronounce.

I blinked around the private fitting room. Marble floors, gold accents, soft violin music playing from god-knows-where, and racks of couture dresses just casually lined up like this wasn’t completely insane.

"Now for the shoes, Miss Aria," a stylist said gently.

I turned just in time to see her open a velvet-lined box and—holy hell.

"What the..." I blinked hard. "Is that the price tag or production date?"

I swear my soul tried to leave my body. I almost spat my drink all over my perfectly applied lipstick.

The number had too many damn zeroes.

One of the attendants stepped closer, eyes filled with concern. "Are these not to your taste, ma’am?"

"No! I mean—yes! They’re stunning," I fumbled, trying to recover some dignity. "It’s just... the price. These cost more than my old apartment."

They exchanged amused looks like this was the cutest thing they’d heard all day. "You don’t need to worry, Miss Aria. The master ordered these himself. And more styles are still on the way from Milan, Paris, and Tokyo."

"More?" I croaked.

They nodded like this was completely normal.

I didn’t know whether to cry, faint, or kiss him—but damn it, he had incredible taste. Every shoe was a work of art. Soft silks, delicate straps, crystals that looked like they belonged in museums. It was unfair how good he was at this.

Eventually, they did my hair—soft waves, delicate pins, all glam but still me. My makeup looked like I’d just stepped off a magazine cover but somehow still natural, like I just woke up this flawless. Yeah right.

By the time they were done and guiding me down a hallway toward what they called the "pickup point," I found my voice again.

"Wait," I said, suddenly panicked. "Isn’t it too late? The wedding must’ve started hours ago."

One of them smiled like she knew a secret. "Everything is perfectly on time, Miss Aria. You’re the guest of honor."

I didn’t have time to ask what the hell that meant because the doors opened and—

I froze.

We stepped into a courtyard straight out of a billionaire fever dream. Rows of luxury cars gleamed under the warm light, like a damn car expo. Guards in tailored suits stood in formation, sharp and still.

And right in the middle of it all, Kael leaned against a sleek black car, talking quietly to one of the guards.

He looked like sin dressed in silk. His jet-black hair, usually tousled from his fingers or my thighs, was now slicked back with sharp, ruthless precision, like he was going for the kill. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit that clung to his tall, broad frame like it was stitched by the devil himself.

Underneath, a crisp white shirt opened just enough to reveal a teasing glimpse of his collarbone, and his watch, sleek, matte, and probably worth more than my entire life glinted in the light.

He stood there with the kind of quiet arrogance only men like him could pull off. Sophisticated. Polished. But beneath that... that edge of danger. That predator still lurking beneath the gentleman’s skin.

Kael looked so expensive, I swear the air he exhaled cost more than my dignity. Just standing there, he radiated power. Intimidation. Lust. Like he didn’t just belong to this world, he owned it.

For a second, everything stopped. Like, actually stopped.

The guards all turned. Their eyes widened. They stared at me like I’d descended from the clouds instead of walking out of a glorified closet.

I froze. My face went hot. This was too much. Too intense. Too... Kael.

"This is so dramatic," I muttered, bowing my head slightly to hide my embarrassment.

Kael was the last to turn. But when he did? My heart dropped.

He looked at me like I was a miracle he didn’t think he deserved. Like he couldn’t breathe for a second. Like he felt me before he saw me, and now he couldn’t take his eyes off me.

His mouth parted. His gaze swept over me slow and reverent. It was fire. Worship. And possession all at once.

And just like that... every dumb self doubt I had scattered to dust.

Because that look?

That was Kael Roman on his knees without ever bending a damn thing.