Chapter 11-You Must Be Joking

Elara's POV “You’re f*****g joking, right?” I asked, my voice cracking with disbelief. Thorne didn’t respond. He just leaned back against the couch like I was wasting his precious time. Those cold silver eyes stayed locked on me, steady and unblinking. The look in them said everything. He wasn’t joking. Not even a little. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard it hurt. Heat rushed up my neck and burned my cheeks. “What do you take me for? Do I look like someone you can just order around?” Still no response. Nothing. He sat there like a statue, completely calm, while I felt like I was about to explode. That silence infuriated me more than anything. He made it seem like I was the dramatic one, throwing a tantrum while he was just stating simple facts. “You’ve lost your f*****g mind if you think I’m actually going to strip for you!” I shouted. Something arrogant flickered in his eyes. “Something you’re ashamed of?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, like he already knew the answer. My blood boiled over. Ashamed? Of my body? Years of training, fighting, running, pushing myself to be stronger had given me a toned, strong figure. I had curves in the right places…full breasts I’d never been shy about. I wasn’t ashamed of a single inch of myself. But the way he said it made it sound like I was hiding something dirty. I clenched my fists so tight my nails dug into my palms. We stared at each other in a tense, heavy silence. My brown eyes burned with pure hate into his silver ones. If looks could kill, he would’ve dropped dead on that couch. The air between us felt thick enough to choke on. Every second stretched longer, the tension wrapping tighter and tighter around my chest. “You’re a sick bastard,” I spat. “You’re going to be my wife after all,” he said calmly, voice cold as ice. The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Wife. Property. His. I wanted to scream. “f**k you!” I yelled, voice shaking with rage. “You will,” he replied with zero emotion on his face. For a second I couldn’t even breathe. I wanted to fly across the room and claw his eyes out. The arrogance. The coldness. It made my skin crawl. I opened my mouth to curse him again, but the words died in my throat. Deep down I knew the truth. There was no way out of this. Not right now. My father had sold me off like some bargaining chip. This man held all the power. I could call him every name in the world, but at the end of the day, he had won. He had me. I swallowed hard, throat tight. My hands trembled at my sides. “Fine,” I said through gritted teeth, spitting every word like poison. “Since you want to see me naked so bad…take your fill.” I reached for the top of my dirty blouse, the same one I’d worn during the fight. My fingers felt clumsy, but I yanked it open and pulled it off, throwing it to the floor. Cool air hit my skin. Next came the leggings. I shoved them down my legs and kicked them away. Now I stood in nothing but my plain black bra and panties. “Satisfied?” I asked through clenched teeth. Thorne’s face gave nothing away. No heat. No satisfaction. Just that blank, terrifying control. “Take off everything,” he said calmly. “What?!” My voice rose sharply. “You’re going too far!” He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. The silence pressed down on me until I thought I would snap. My chest heaved with angry breaths. Tears burned behind my eyes, hot and shameful, but I refused to let them fall. Not in front of this monster. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. With shaking hands, I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra. I held it against my chest for a long second, hesitating. This man just wanted to humiliate me. To prove he was in control. To break me down and show me exactly where I stood. I let the bra fall. My breasts came free, n*****s hardening instantly from the cold air and the storm of fury inside me. I felt exposed. Vulnerable. But I lifted my chin anyway, refusing to cower. Then I hooked my thumbs into my panties and pulled them down slowly, stepping out of them. I stood completely naked in front of him. The cool air kissed every inch of my skin. My heart pounded so loud I could hear it in my ears. “Satisfied?” I repeated, voice barely above a whisper but dripping with hate. I had never hated anyone this quickly or this deeply in my entire life. I hated him for humiliating me. For accepting this marriage like it was nothing. For stealing my future and treating me like a prize he’d won in a game. His silver eyes raked slowly over my body…from my face, down my neck, across my breasts, my stomach, my hips, and lower. He took his time. My skin prickled under his gaze, but his expression stayed completely unreadable. No lust. No smirk. Nothing I could grab onto. It made the tension even worse. Then, slowly, he stood up from the couch. My stomach dropped. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but there was nowhere to go. He started walking toward me, tall and powerful, each step measured and deliberate. The room felt smaller with every inch he closed between us. “Stay back,” I warned, my voice cracking as I took a step backward. He kept coming. I moved back again. And again. My bare feet retreated across the cool floor until my back suddenly hit the hard wall. There was nowhere left to run. He stopped right in front of me, so close I could feel the heat coming off his body. His scent…dark, powerful, overwhelming…wrapped around me like chains. His hand came up and gripped my chin firmly, tilting my face up to meet his eyes. For the briefest second, I swore I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. A ghost of a smirk. Cold. Victorious. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he whispered, his breath brushing my skin. The words sent a fresh wave of rage and humiliation crashing through me. Before I could spit out a reply, he released my chin and stepped back. He turned and walked out of the room like nothing had happened, leaving me standing there completely naked against the wall. My chest rose and fell fast, breathing hard with pure, burning rage. My fists clenched so tight they shook. One thought repeated over and over in my head like a scream I couldn’t let out. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him so much.