Chapter 23

Chapter

Twenty-Three

"Where there is power, there is resistance."

― Michel Foucault

Alexsei

As expected, Caia was furious. Seeing her rage at the idea of being my wife was exhilarating. I relished the power—it was a fucking thrill.

What I didn't expect was her to show up in a blood-red dress. Sexy, bold, almost blasphemous for a bride-to-be. It wasn't just fashion; it was a rebellion. Anyone still unsure this marriage was forced had no doubts after seeing that damn provocative dress.

Surprisingly, the ceremony went smoothly, even after I had to drop the grandma card, threatening her with the old lady's death—classic, but effective.

As we exchanged vows, the words rolled off my tongue, almost making me believe I was some romantic bastard pledging eternal love. But beneath it all, I scoffed.

Eternal love was bullshit. I just wanted to fuck the girl that's all.

Liar. You're obsessed with her.

The voice in my head wouldn't shut up, nagging at me, and as much as I hated to admit it, it was the fucking truth. I craved her, wanted her beside me constantly. I wanted her scent, her gaze, her thoughts—all mine.

When the priest declared us married and I leaned in for that first kiss, it was like electricity. Goosebumps, heart racing. Her lips against mine felt like a dangerous pleasure, and for a moment, everything else disappeared—the vows, the ceremony. It was just us, and the kiss was… fucking amazing.

But Caia? She didn't seem to be fazed by it at all.

As I drove us away from the Manor, the tension was thick. She stayed silent, arms crossed, body turned away.

My little witch's still mad.

"Stop staring at me."

"What did I tell you about giving me orders, moya solnyshka ?"

"Don't call me that," she spat.

I arched a brow. "Would you prefer wife ? Is that better?"

She gave me a hard look and I couldn't help but laugh.

Finally, curiosity got the best of her. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," I grinned.

"Ugh, I hate you," she muttered.

A few minutes later, we arrived at a modest shop. I stepped out to open her door, but she stayed put, arms crossed, staring ahead.

"C'mon," I said, reaching for her hand.

She swatted me away. "Don't tell me what to do. "

"Don't make me carry you, Caia."

She sighed and got out of the car in her big black coat. She then slammed the door and stormed ahead without waiting for me.

Only you, Alexsei Romaniev, could be obsessed with a woman who didn't give a fuck about me.

Yet.

She doesn't care about me yet .

But I'll make sure she knows I'm everything she fucking needs.

"What is this place?" Caia asked, her voice echoing in the empty room where only a chilly silence replied.

I closed the door behind us.

White walls surrounded us, void of any furniture, and the only feature of note was a black door positioned at the opposite end of the entrance. The only sound now was the echo of her footsteps on the polished floor.

I stepped closer to her. "Welcome to your own private gallery."

"What?" She asked, the confusion evident in her voice.

"Consider this one of your wedding gifts. I wanted you to have a place to showcase your pictures."

She remained quiet for a few moments.

Her back was turned to me, hands clenched into fists, and head lowered.

"Follow me. I need to show you something else."

Heading towards the black door, I retrieved a key from my pocket and turned the lock. I looked back to make sure she was following before descending the stairs slowly, ready to assist her if she stumbled.

Reaching the lower floor, I turned around to offer my hand for support.

She shot me a cold glare before stubbornly gripping the handrail.

But she still gasped when she took a look around us.

The room was bathed in dim red light, giving it a cozy, intimate vibe. It was decked out with a top-notch photography setup—high-end cameras, lenses neatly arranged on shelves, and a slick editing station. A big table was cluttered with film development tools.

In one corner, a large couch invited you to sink in and let your imagination run wild. The deep red tones and the cool setup made the space feel like a creative retreat.

"I meant it when I said you're talented," I said. "I wanted you to keep chasing your passion. So, I bought this place just for you."

She didn't respond, just let her eyes drift around the room, taking in the space with a look of flat disinterest. It was like she was assessing a mediocre gift she had no use for.

But then again, I should've known. Caia had a talent for shutting down grand gestures without a second thought.

"I want to go back home, Romaniev," she said, her voice cold as she turned away from me. No warmth, no hint of pleading, just a flat-out demand.

Her words hung in the air, heavy with her disconnection. A part of me almost wanted to see if she'd break down or beg, but I shoved that thought aside.

"Then let's go home, wife ."