One day before the wedding, my father called a family meeting.
That alone was enough to sour my mood.
In our family, meetings weren't discussions. They were declarations—commands dressed up as tradition. When my father summoned us, we showed up. Early. Silent. Ready.
The Conner estate felt heavier than usual that night. The walls—stone and dark wood—had witnessed generations of blood, deals, betrayals, and loyalty bought at a steep price. The kind of place that didn't just house power but breathed it.
My mother sat at the head of the long dining table beside my father, her posture flawless, her expression calm in a way that never fooled anyone. She was elegant, composed, and terrifying in her own quiet way—because she had survived decades beside him.
My father didn't need to raise his voice to dominate a room. He simply existed.
Across from them sat my siblings.
Luca, my oldest brother, leaned back in his chair like the world bored him, arms crossed, eyes sharp. He'd inherited my father's temper but none of his patience. Then there was Matteo, quieter, observant, always watching, always calculating. My sister Sofia sat straight-backed, lips pursed, intelligence radiating from her like a warning.
And then there was me.
The heir everyone pretended wasn't favored, yet somehow always was.
"Sit," my father said when I entered.
I did.
Dinner was served—expensive, meticulously prepared, untouched by appetite. We ate because it was expected, not because anyone was hungry.
Finally, my father set his fork down.
"The marriage is tomorrow," he said flatly.
No preamble. No ceremony.
"Hera Miller brings legitimacy," he continued. "Her family brings reach in sectors we do not dominate. Finance. Technology. Public-facing enterprises."
A strategic move. Always framed that way.
"She will represent us in rooms we do not enter," my mother added smoothly. "And you will represent stability."
Luca snorted softly. My father shot him a look that could kill.
"Do not mistake this for weakness," my father said. "This alliance strengthens us. But it also binds us. Your behavior reflects on all of us."
I met his gaze evenly. "I understand."
"You will be visible," he continued. "Present. United."
I didn't argue. There was no point.
"Discretion," my mother said, eyes flicking briefly to me. "Matters now more than ever."
There it was.
The unspoken acknowledgment of my reputation.
"You will not embarrass this family," my father said. "Nor hers."
I inclined my head. "I won't."
That was the end of it.
No questions. No objections.
The meeting dissolved the way it always did—quietly, tensely, with everything important left unsaid.
⸻
Later, I retreated to my study.
It was the only room in the house that felt remotely like mine. Dark leather chairs, shelves lined with books I actually read, a desk scarred with history and decisions. I poured myself a drink and exhaled slowly.
A knock came—unnecessary.
Luca walked in first, uninvited as always. Matteo followed. Sofia lingered in the doorway before closing it behind her.
"Well," Luca said, dropping into a chair. "Big day tomorrow."
"Don't fuck with me." I muttered.
He grinned. "I'm just saying—you, married. Never thought I'd see it."
"It's just business," I replied.
Sofia raised an eyebrow. "Everything is business. That doesn't make it less permanent."
Matteo leaned against the bookshelf. "What's she like?"
I paused.
Sharp. Defiant. Unwilling to bend.
"Not what you expect," I said carefully.
Luca smirked. "That bad?"
"That complicated."
Sofia studied me. "She won't disappear into the role."
I snorted. "That's putting it lightly."
Luca laughed. "So how long before you start sneaking around again?"
I shot him a look. "Again?"
"You didn't exactly stop," he said, unapologetic.
I didn't deny it.
"There's a woman," Luca continued casually. "The one you've been keeping around. What's her name?"
"Doesn't matter," I said.
Sofia's gaze sharpened. "It will."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm not suddenly becoming someone else because of a ring."
"No one expects that," Matteo said calmly. "But Hera Miller isn't stupid. She won't tolerate disrespect."
I thought of her standing in that museum—eyes blazing, spine straight, refusing to shrink.
"I know," I said.
Luca leaned forward. "So what's the plan? Smile for cameras, disappear at night?"
"That was the agreement," I replied. "We stay out of each other's way."
Sofia didn't look convinced. "You think she'll settle for that?"
"I don't care what she settles for," I snapped.
Silence followed.
Matteo tilted his head. "That's a lie."
I clenched my jaw.
Luca stood, stretching. "Just don't let her get under your skin."
Too late, I thought.
After they left, I sat alone in the dim light of my study, drink untouched.
I'd spent my life mastering control—over people, over situations, over myself.
Tomorrow, I'd gain a wife.
And somehow, I wasn't sure which of us would walk away with more power.
That uncertainty unsettled me more than any threat ever had.
———
The morning of the wedding arrives without ceremony.
No nerves. No excitement. Just inevitability.
The groom's room is all dark tones and quiet efficiency—tailored suits hung with military precision, cufflinks laid out like weapons, polished shoes aligned perfectly beneath the sofa. Everything smells faintly of leather, cologne, and old money. Control, bottled and disguised as calm.
Luca is the first to break the silence.
"Well," he says, adjusting his tie in the mirror. "You look fucking miserable."
I don't look at him. "I look like I'm about to get trapped in marriage."
"That's worse," he replies with a grin.
Matteo sits by the window, phone in hand, ever the observer. "Security's locked down. No surprises."
Sofia stands near the door, arms crossed, studying me like I'm a chess piece about to be sacrificed. "You're quiet," she says.
"I'm always quiet."
"No," she corrects. "You're usually smug."
I scoff softly, fixing my cufflinks. "Yeah no shit."
The door opens again.
My mother enters first.
She's immaculate, as always—elegant dress, perfect posture, eyes sharp with quiet assessment. She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
"You look handsome," she says, stepping closer. "Your father would approve."
That's not comfort. That's warning.
And right on cue, he walks in.
The room changes instantly.
My father doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't need to. His presence presses down on everything—on the air, on my chest, on the version of myself that still, infuriatingly, wants his approval.
He looks at me.
Just once.
And something in me tightens. Shrinks. The way it always has.
"You understand what today means," he says.
It's not a question.
"Yes," I reply.
"You will stand beside her," he continues. "You will be seen. You will not embarrass this family."
"I won't."
His gaze lingers a second too long. Measuring. Judging. Owning.
"Good," he says, finally. "Remember—this isn't about you."
It never was.
He leaves without another word. My mother follows, squeezing my shoulder briefly on her way out. It's the closest thing to affection she allows herself.
Silence settles again.
Luca exhales loudly. "Well. That was inspiring."
Sofia shakes her head. "Hope you didn't pee in your pants?"
"Barely," I mutter.
Matteo studies me. "You should be out in thirty minutes." He says as they walk out.
I think of Hera—sharp eyes, defiant spine, refusal to bend.
"This is crazy." I say honestly to myself. "But I'll do it anyway."
The door opens again.
This time, no announcement.
No warning.
Behind me, the door clicked shut softly. The scent of jasmine and submission preceded her—my concubine, Rhea, the one indulgence I kept hidden from the world. She moved like liquid silk, her lithe body draped in a sheer black dress that clung to her curves, nipples hardening against the thin material as she approached.
"You look sharp," she murmured, her voice a husky whisper that sent a familiar heat pooling in mg groin.
She dropped to her knees before me, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a veil. Her hands, small and deft, reached for my belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease. My cock twitched in anticipation, already half-hard from the adrenaline of the day.
"Careful Rhea, I'm getting married in few minutes."
"Don't worry, I'll be quick." She reply's back.
"Fine then, make it quick, pet," I growl , though my tone held no real urgency.
Rhea's lips curved into a knowing smile as she freed the thickening shaft from the confines of my pants. It sprang out, heavy and veined, the head already glistening with a bead of pre-cum. She wrapped her fingers around the base, stroking firmly while her tongue darted out to lap at the tip, savoring my salty taste.
My hand tangled in her hair, guiding her closer. She opened her mouth wide, taking me in inch by inch, her warm wet heat enveloping me.
"Fuck Rhea, we should be doing this."
Her lips stretched around my girth as she bobbed her head, sucking me with deliberate pressure. The suction pulled a low groan from my chest, my hips rocking forward instinctively. Rhea hummed around me, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure straight to my balls.
She worked me deeper, her throat relaxing to accommodate my length until her nose brushed against the coarse hair at my groin.
Gagging slightly, she pulled back, saliva trailing from her lips to his cock, then dove down again, faster now. Her free hand cupped my sack, massaging gently, rolling the heavy orbs between her fingers.
"Fuck, don't stop." My breath came in sharp bursts, my free hand gripping the edge of the vanity to steady myself.
The distant hum of guests gathering in the chapel faded into irrelevance.
All that mattered was the slick slide of her mouth, the way her tongue swirled around the underside of my shaft on every upstroke.
I thrust shallowly, fucking her face with controlled power, careful not to overwhelm her—but Rhea thrived on it, her eyes watering yet locked in leaving me begging for more.
Pressure built low in my gut, coiling tight.
"That's it," I rasp, tightening my hold on her hair.
"Swallow every drop." She nodded as best she could, redoubling her efforts, cheeks hollowing as she sucked harder.
With a final, guttural curse, I came, my cock pulsing as hot spurts of cum flooded her mouth. Lila didn't spill a bit, gulping it down greedily, her throat working around me.
She pulled off slowly, licking me clean with reverent swipes of her tongue, then tucked me back into my pants with a satisfied sigh. Rising to her feet, she pressed a soft kiss to my jaw. "Good luck out there, babe. You'll need it."
I smirked, straightening my tie as if nothing had happened.
I adjusted myself to fit my appearance minutes ago.
I might be getting married but this is still me. Getting wrecked in my dressing room by my side piece minutes before my wedding.
The wedding bell tolled faintly in the distance. Perfect timing.