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THE ACCIDENTAL BRIDE

The whole hall was empty except for the two people that were shooting daggers at each other's with their eyes. Logan later broke the silence and said "you could only work your way into my bed with sleazy means but forget about me treating you like my wife. if you like, you can go complain to grandma but I promise to break your legs and pluck out one of your eyes the moment grandma reprimands me. You can weigh your pros and cons and choose your path" Sophia glared at him in disgust and angrily retorts "you think too highly of yourself Mr Steele, I don't want anything to do with you and if you want your grandmother to be convinced you can meet me in the car, we are nothing to each other but strangers that have been obliged to live under the same roof." she storms off to the Limousine that was waiting outside the hotel to take the newly wedded couple home and a minute later, Logan snaps out of the shock that her words had sent him into then a sinister smirk appeared on his perfectly carved face and he strides out and sits on the other side of the car. The car ride was quiet and the driver was drenched in cold sweat as at the time that they got to the mansion from the oppressive and deadly aura that the couple behind him was exuding. Finally they arrived at Logan Steele's mansion and Sophia had to look at him again and ask herself, "How rich is this man?" well she doesn't have the time to think cause this is her new home and her new life too. Logan came down from the car and looked at the woman in front of his house and muttered under his breath "welcome to hell".

David_Abodunrin · สมัยใหม่
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8 Chs

CHAPTER EIGHT

With the passage of each day, the Steele mansion became gloomier. It was not the wrong weather; it was the uncomfortably calm atmosphere that exists between Logan and Sophia. 

These were two people who shared the most unreasonable of reasons to be together, and yet, there's nothing which could be called togetherness. 

The mutual hatred and ill feelings had crossed every possible limit and echoed across every space of the house.

On the other hand, Sophia positioned herself in more or less sitting posture on the edge of the bed, set head-on in the room, and surveyed the lavish and pompous decoration, which collapsed all around and became her nightmare. 

She tried to grip the duvet draped under her stiff fingers that held on for fear of the shocking deluge of intense fury and pain that was building inside. 

Sophia was coerced into this marriage as a mere tool in the grand design that her sister Samantha had manufactured.

Sophia could not, in her wildest dreams, envisage that one day it would come to such a thing. 

She had dreams and ambitions, and most importantly, she never wanted to be married to a man like Logan Steele. 

A man who thinks that she is an accomplice in her sister's plot. A man who stared down at her like he had just looked into a septic tank. 

A man who stripped her of everything without a care in the world.

Throughout her life, Sophia was conditioned to think, or rather hope, that her first time would be cherished, something to be done with someone special.

 Only that it had not been the one she had wished to be with.

Logan was on the other side of the house, sitting at his desk in the study. A glass of whiskey lay abandoned on the table, and he found himself glaring at it. 

He still felt the anger bubbling inside him, and the disappointed fury emanated factually from him. 

He was betrayed and, in the process, shamed by all those he ought to have counted on.

Especially his grandmother who brought up the idea of marriage.

 And most aggravating of all, it had been Sophia, who had been in the centre of it all. 

"How dare she? Acting there as a damsel in distress when she was the one who conspired against him?"

There was tension in his jaw when he thought about his wedding.

Now she became a sight everywhere in a place irritating him, reminding him of abject failure and helplessness. He was lost, he could not figure out whom to trust, but one fact was beyond debate- Sophia had done her best in the play, and he shall carry that with himself for always.

The distance, though not literally between their bodies, made it more dampening than comforting. They spoke little and when the few words were spoken, they were full of blame and contempt. It was like going to war and occupying the same place with the other person without any hope of either side emerging victorious.

Sophia didn't last any longer. The entire day had been about locking herself in her room and making sure that she had avoided Logan; however, the anger that had been building inside of her was something she could no longer control. It ate her up from within, insisting on being let out.

Ever since she overheard the conversation between Logan and his grandmother, she hadn't been herself.

She flung open the door of her room and walked down the long hallway toward the dining room aware of the fact that Logan would be having his dinner alone just the way he did for supper every night. She had given the silent treatment for long enough.

Upon stepping into the room, Logan did not even raise his gaze from the plate of food in front of him. Such coldness made her more furious rather than getting over her anger.

"This has to stop," she said bitterly, cutting him off. "You can't just ignore my existence."

For the first time since she heard the conversation, she approached him. Logan lifted his head to look at her. His grey eyes were as cold as ice. 

He placed his fork on the table with perfect composure, reclined in his chair, and looked down at her with disgust. "I didn't know that was a performance."

Sophia's heart raced, her eyes almost popping out of her face. His disaffected inflection was annoying. What's with the devil-may-care attitude?

"Do you think I am taking the blame for everything? Is that what you think?" she vented, trying her best to lose the trembling in her voice. "Do you think for a second I wished for any of it?"

Logan maintained his impassive expression. "You are present, aren't you? You are the person who was at the altar and uttered 'I do.'"

"Who do you think you are? Trying to blame me?" She yelled, her voice quavering in great anger, "I was not ready for this! I didn't even know about Samantha's scheme until it was too late!"

Logan got up, sliding his chair noisily across the floor, and stood over her. "And yet here we are," he said, dangerously low. "You think I would let you get away with saying you did not know? You think you were just a bystander to all of this?"

Sophia's heart hurt. "Yes!" she yelled. "Because that is the truth, Logan! I didn't wish for this marriage as much as you think I did. Look, you are behaving like I am the one who planned every detail!"

Logan's eyes grew darker and as he closed the distance between them, his presence became more formidable. "You think I give a damn what you wanted? This marriage was never to fit either of our desires. It is a deal, Sophia. A deal that we are both a part of, whether you are okay with it or not."

She drew back, overwhelmed by the force of his words. To him, naturally, it was a contract of sorts. Just another deal out of many. A situation he had to put up with. But for her, it was her virginity taken away from her. And all of this is gone.

"Why do you exist?" she asked, her voice failing her. "Why do you ruthlessly rob me of everything without a bit of remorse?"

Logan was unfazed; his face gave no tells, but there was something that flashed in the depths of his eyes—something she couldn't define. "You think I'd be concerned?" he scoffed, the warmth gone from his tone. "What I took from you didn't mean anything. You're my wife now."

Sophia's ribs constricted, moisture pooling in her eyes like waterworks. "I didn't ask to become your wife," she said, voice so low only animals would hear her. "I never asked for this."

Logan's gaze grew colder. "Any more than I wished to be imprisoned with a deceiver."

That term, deceiver, sliced through her worse than she anticipated. He thought she was also in it from the beginning. It did not matter how much she sought to justify herself; to him, she would forever remain an accessory to Samantha's schemes.

Sophia looked back, turned briskly and, as tears blurred her vision, quickly vacated the dining area. More of his presence and especially his words, cruel enough to be painted on walls, she could feel, easily rejecting this as any alternative. She hurriedly turned back towards the corridor and went back into her room, slamming the door shut right behind her.

She pressed herself to the door. Dumpled, she slid down the wall, face in her palms. The tears which she was holding back made a run for it. How did everything turn out like this?

Logan was standing in the dining room gazing with satisfaction animated by malice.

He shook his head, banishing the ideas. He wasn't allowed to feel any type of emotional response to her. Not when every part of their marriage was fabricated. Not when he knew she was in on the game to ensnare him.

He finally allowed himself to think, only to be interrupted by the uncomfortable feeling of apprehension, which he could not get rid of.

The rumours were going around; he was aware of them. It didn't come as a surprise to him. Some women had eyes for him but he knew it wasn't for his looks or him.

They were only after his money and Sophia was no different from others.

He was at the bar when he heard the conversation between Sophia and her sister. 

He always thought that it was by chance that she ended up in that room not knowing that she was the mastermind behind the plan all along.

She was desperate enough to spike his drink just to be called his wife. She knew of the outcome of everything, that was why she did it.

What made him annoyed the most was how she still acted pitifully around him.