Consider This Your First

He deliberately stretched out the syllables of 'waste of a man,' the mocking provocation hanging heavily in the tense air. With deliberate, predatory steps, he advanced. The piercingly cold aura radiating from him grew thicker, practically wrapping around Celia and backing her instinctively into the nearest corner of the vast bedroom.

Her back hit the wall. Uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny, her mind raced. After a few moments of sheer disbelief, the terrifying reality settled in: she completely believed his words. The rumors surrounding Julian Sterling were infamous. He was supposed to be a brutal, horribly disfigured monster. The man standing before her possessed a flawless, breathtaking face. Furthermore, this isolated villa was entirely inaccessible to uninvited guests. If he could stroll in here so casually, he truly must be Julian's cousin.

"He is your family," Celia shot back, her voice tight but bravely unwavering. "Please don't talk about your cousin like that."

Despite her own tragic, forced circumstances, a sudden pang of genuine sympathy squeezed Celia's chest. She thought of her unseen, crippled husband. He must have endured unimaginable hardships and agonizing pain. She couldn't just stand by and let this arrogant intruder mock his suffering.

A flicker of genuine surprise flashed across Julian's dark brown eyes. He hadn't expected such a staunch, immediate defense from this trembling woman.

He took a moment to truly assess her, sweeping his gaze over her figure with blatant distaste. She looked downright disgusting. Her hair was a tangled, unkempt mess. Her face was obscured by thick, black-framed glasses and heavy bangs. She wore a hideous, soiled long cotton dress that drowned her frame, and the dull skin of her face was dotted with haggard blemishes.

The Ashford family had promised a breathtaking beauty, a blooming rose. This woman was a complete eyesore. There was absolutely no way this repulsive creature was his rumored fiancée.

But a dark, cynical thought crossed his mind. The Sterling family only cared about securing a woman capable of producing a healthy heir. They wouldn't bat an eye even if they had to swap her out. To him, this entire marriage was nothing more than a crude transaction. He never had any intention of treating his bride as a wife. All he needed was a quick, efficient consummation.

A dark, dangerous glint ignited in his eyes. Without warning, Julian lunged.

He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and forcefully shoved Celia backward onto the mattress. She hit the bed with a soft thud, the breath knocked out of her lungs.

He leaned over her, his broad frame caging her in. Undisguised malice and raw contempt dripped from his low voice. "There is no one else around," he sneered. "You don't need to put on this virtuous act. With looks like yours, you're undoubtedly still a virgin. Why don't you give it a try with me? I guarantee I can treat you far better than that crippled waste ever could."

Before Celia could even process the vile proposition, his large hand reached out directly, aiming to grab her waist and pull her flush against him.

Survival instinct kicked in.

*Smack!*

The sharp, resounding crack of flesh meeting flesh echoed like a gunshot through the silent bedroom.

"Get off me!" Celia screamed, having channeled every ounce of her strength into the resounding slap she delivered across his perfect cheek. "Don't assume everyone in the world is as filthy and dirty as you are!"

She scrambled backward on the bed, putting as much distance between them as possible, her chest heaving violently. "You should consider yourself lucky your cousin hasn't arrived yet! Leave this room immediately, and I will pretend nothing happened. If you don't, I swear I will slap you again!"

She threw up a fierce, impenetrable front, her chin jutted out in pure defiance. But her body betrayed the sheer, unadulterated terror consuming her. Her hands shook violently where they white-knuckled the silk bedsheets, and her breaths came in ragged, panicked gasps.

What kind of twisted nightmare was this? On her wedding night, as she waited in terror for a disfigured beast, an incredibly handsome stranger breaks into her room, propositions her, and violently assaults her. And this man was supposedly her husband's own cousin!

Stunned by the physical strike, Julian froze. Slowly, his expression darkened into something immense and terrifying. The temperature in the room seemed to drop below freezing as his body exuded a bitter, deadly chill.

"No woman," he stated, his voice a dangerously low, glacial whisper, "has ever dared to slap me."

Celia shuddered under the weight of his murderous glare, but she stubbornly held her ground. "Then consider this your first!" she retorted, her voice trembling but fierce.

During the violent struggle on the bed, her heavy, thick-rimmed glasses had been knocked askew and tumbled onto the blankets. Without the ugly frames obscuring her face, her eyes were fully exposed to the harsh overhead light.

They were unexpectedly striking—crystal clear and incredibly precise. Right now, those captivating eyes were brimming with unadulterated, raw terror. Her long eyelashes fluttered rapidly, showcasing her intense fear as she stuttered, "S-stay away from me!"

Julian suddenly paused. The heavy, suffocating anger radiating from him faltered for a fraction of a second. A fleeting, almost imperceptible moment of softness touched his cold features as he stared down into those uniquely beautiful, terrified eyes.

The spell broke just as quickly as it had formed. He scoffed, stepping back and straightening the lapels of his immaculate dark coat with sharp, jerky movements.

He cast one final, icy glance down at her trembling form. "Fine. You can continue to wait for that waste of a man right here."

He turned on his heel, his long legs eating up the distance to the exit. He walked out, violently slamming the heavy wooden door shut behind him with a deafening bang.

Only when the latch clicked into place did Celia's rigidly tense muscles finally collapse, her ragged breathing filling the empty, silent room.

Out in the brightly lit hallway, the atmosphere was equally tense.

A burly bodyguard, stationed a few yards away, snapped to attention as the master bedroom door violently flew open. But as his terrifying boss marched toward him, the bodyguard's eyes widened in absolute shock.

There, stamped perfectly against Julian's pale cheek, was a glaringly bright, red handprint. Even a partially blind man could have spotted the angry welt from a mile away.

The bodyguard completely froze, his professional composure shattering. "Mr. Sterling... your face..."

Julian abruptly stopped. He raised a hand, his long fingers lightly brushing against the stinging, burning skin of his cheek. His dark eyes narrowed dangerously as he looked at his subordinate and bluntly lied, "I ran into the door."

The bodyguard stared at him. Since when did doors have five distinct fingers?

Despite the utterly ridiculous and doubtful excuse, the bodyguard wisely snapped his mouth shut. He valued his life and his job far too much to dare question the explosive temper of the man standing before him.

Instead, he quickly pivoted to his duties, pulling a sleek manila folder from under his arm. He respectfully held it out with both hands. "Sir, this is Mrs. Sterling's personal background information as requested."

Julian snatched the folder, flipping it open with an aggressive snap of his wrist. He immediately scanned the top line.

*Celia Ashford.*

His perfectly carved lips curved into a dark, cynical sneer. The name Celia meant 'noble'. Yet that ugly, haggard woman inside had fought like a feral cat and cursed at him with sheer rudeness. How deeply ironic.

His eyes darted down the page, absorbing the family dynamics. Her biological mother was an absolute piece of work—shamelessly favoring her stepson and stepdaughter while treating her own flesh and blood like garbage. Despicable.

As he continued to skim the detailed report, a deep frown creased his forehead. He stopped reading and looked up sharply at the bodyguard. "Is she really as much of an idiot as this file claims?"

The bodyguard gave a stiff, confident nod. "Yes, sir."

A dangerous storm brewed in Julian's dark eyes. His mind instantly flashed back to the bedroom just moments ago. He remembered her clear, organized defense of a crippled stranger, and the fierce, unhesitating way she fought back when pushed onto the bed.

An idiot did not speak with such sharp clarity. A foolish, submissive weakling did not rise up with such fierce defiance to slap a man across the face in a terrifying situation.

The Ashford family was playing a very dangerous game, or his own intelligence network had failed him miserably.

Losing the last thread of his already frayed temper, Julian violently thrust the heavy folder back into the bodyguard's chest, forcing the man to scramble to catch it.

"Investigate her again!" he demanded, his voice a low, furious roar that echoed menacingly down the corridor. "Find out her true nature. And if you can't bring me completely accurate information this time, don't bother coming back to work for me!"