Bound To A Scarred Billionaire: Can Love Bloom From Ashes?

"Get downstairs. Now." Even without seeing him, she recognized his voice right away. The way he said it made it even clearer. "I'm not going," she replied, her tone steady as she leaned back again and kept reading. "Carolina, are you planning to make me drag you all the way to the dining room?" "That's not something I'd enjoy. And since we're talking about what I want, you should leave me alone." "What did you just say?" he asked, caught off guard by her response. A quiet sense of satisfaction settled in her chest. If he really wanted to drag her, then he'd have no choice but to let her see him. Besides, after everything he had said earlier, she didn't mind pushing back. "Is this because I haven't paid you yet?" he asked. The question made her hands tighten as anger surged through her. "Get out!" "This is my house." "And it's mine too. I'm your wife, aren't I?" she replied without hesitation. A faint smile appeared on her lips as she took his silence as a win. Turning her back to the door, she settled in again and focused on her book. Maximo stepped inside anyway. The sight that greeted him made him pause. She lay stretched out on the bed, her posture relaxed, her nightgown short enough to reveal the length of her legs and the curve of her figure. He swallowed and moved closer without thinking. "What else should I expect from someone like her? She must've had it easy getting attention before. But now... she belongs to me." A strange sensation crept over Carolina, and she stiffened. Something felt off. Her eyes shifted toward the wall, and there it was. A shadow that hadn't been there before. Without thinking, she turned around. Standing behind her was a tall man. His light hair caught the faint glow in the room, and his skin held a slight tan, proof that he didn't stay locked inside the mansion. He wore dark jeans, a belt with a wide buckle, and a light green shirt with the sleeves pushed up. His build didn't go unnoticed, especially the strength in his arms. One of them carried visible scars. But none of that held her attention for long. Her gaze stopped at his face. Half of it was hidden beneath a mask, the same side marked by scars that stretched along his arm and neck. The other half remained uncovered. That side showed sharp features. His lips were full, his nose defined though partly concealed, and his brows were thick despite their light color. Then there were his eyes. A striking shade of green, bright like emeralds. Yet what filled them wasn't warmth. It was anger. It was contempt. "Satisfied now?" he said, his voice tight as his jaw clenched. Only then did Carolina realize what she was doing. He had already warned her not to stare. "No," she answered without hesitation. Her eyes didn't leave him. Instead, they moved slowly over him before returning to his face. A cold smile touched his lips. "For someone who claims innocence, you've got a lot of nerve." His gaze traveled over her in return, deliberate and heated, as if testing how far she would go. "I'm not a virgin," she said, meeting his eyes without backing down. "I got married. I spent a wedding night. And earlier, we crossed that line again in your office. Too bad the man I married turned out to be a crude, thoughtless idiot." The space between them disappeared as he stepped closer. Carolina caught his scent then. Something deep and warm, something that lingered. "I told you not to look at me like that," he responded, his voice dropping into something far more dangerous. "I can see just fine." "Good for you," she retorted right away, brushing off the warning in his voice. "Or what? What are you going to do about it? Are you planning to blind me? Rip my eyes out? Honestly, I wouldn't put it past you." "I'm not some kind of monster. You're only saying that because of how I look, aren't you?" "What's wrong with you?" she said, disbelief crossing her face. Has he lost his mind too? A warning stirred deep inside her, urging her to stop. What if he reacted like her father? What if he raised his hand against her? They were alone out here, far from anyone who could help. Maximo towered over her, far stronger than Gaspar ever was. If he struck her, she wouldn't stand a chance. He inhaled sharply, then moved without hesitation. In one swift motion, he lifted her and set her down on the bed. Her knees hit the mattress as he leaned in, closing the distance between them. "That hurts!" she exclaimed, trying to pull away. His eyes flicked downward, catching sight of her blouse, the thin fabric barely covering her. For a moment, he froze. Then he stepped back, walked to the door, and shut it with force before turning toward her again. Her throat tightened. His hands moved to his belt, and she understood what he intended. A part of her responded, but she forced herself to stay grounded this time. "Not this time," she muttered to herself. "Sorry, Mr. Castillo. That 'prostitute' you keep talking about? She's not available tonight," she said, her voice turning cold. The reaction in his eyes was immediate. "Now leave," she added, pointing toward the door, her anger no longer hidden. He didn't move. Instead, he stared at her, caught between disbelief and rising anger. Was she really turning him away from her own room? "I want you," he said, closing the distance between them. The thought crossed his mind that he was starting to crave her more than he should. "We're married. This is what married couples do. This was supposed to be our honeymoon. And if I want a child—" "That's unfortunate," she cut in, her tone sharp. "Because I'm not available tonight. Now get out." To him, her anger didn't land the way she intended. She looked like a small creature trying to defend itself, all claws and defiance, yet still impossible to take seriously. Tears gathered in her eyes, though they came from frustration rather than sadness. The way he spoke to her only made it worse. The urge to pull her in and claim her lips rose again, stronger than before. He couldn't shake the thought that if he kissed her the same way he had earlier, she might respond just as intensely and give in. He stepped closer. Anger flashed across her face, and without hesitation, Carolina grabbed a pillow and hurled it straight at him. The impact didn't bother him. He caught it with ease, then let out a low laugh as he dropped it aside. "A pillow? That's not much of a defense. Feels more like you're asking me to stay." Her eyes scanned the room, searching for something else. This time, she picked up a book and threw it at him without holding back. A sharp thought crossed his mind. Even something small can fight back harder than expected. He didn't move out of the way. The book struck the edge of his mask, and a faint sensation spread across his scalp. Carolina froze, staring at him in shock. She had been certain he would avoid it.