Wrong Room, Wrong Groom: Now He Won't Let Me Go

Exhaustion weighed on Isabella's slender body after the relentless night. From one moment to the next, the man had shifted her position—turning her onto her stomach, and then onto her back—treating her fragile frame as if it belonged entirely to him. Despite the tremor in her legs and the dull ache that left her nearly limp, she swallowed every protest, not daring to push back against the man she was meant to marry—a stranger who still felt unfamiliar in every way. Morning light seeped quietly into the room. When her eyes fluttered open, Isabella found the man still asleep beside her. Freed from the cover of darkness, she gathered her courage and carefully studied the man she had believed to be Nathaniel. The instant her gaze settled on his face, Alexander's eyes snapped open. Caught off guard, Isabella jerked back in alarm, her bare leg brushing against his. Heat rushed to her cheeks as fragments of the night returned in a dizzying flood, leaving her flustered and unable to meet his eyes. Only then did Alexander truly take her in. Her small, delicate face looked almost too pale beneath the soft morning light, the faint flush coloring her cheeks betraying both fear and lingering embarrassment. Her damp eyes stared at him, startled and unguarded. A flicker of doubt crossed his mind—Natalie Brown was supposed to be twenty-five, yet the woman in front of him looked far too young, almost fragile in comparison. Intending to lay out the terms clearly, he composed himself, lowered his voice, and said, "You should already understand why this marriage was arranged." Before he could continue, Isabella rushed to cut him off, her voice trembling. "I know, Nathaniel. I… I'll try my best to get pregnant." Something darkened in his gaze. "Nathaniel?" he repeated, his tone sharpening. "Y-yes…" At once, the atmosphere around Alexander dropped several degrees, an icy tension settling over the room. Back in the pitch-black haze of the night before, he had already felt that something wasn't right. She had been far too timid—nothing like the sweet, composed Natalie his mother had described. Alcohol had dulled his senses before, and the yielding warmth of her body had pulled his attention away from the inconsistencies he ought to have noticed. "Who exactly are you?" Authority weighed heavily in his tone, cold and unmistakable. Startled by the sudden shift, Isabella's body trembled as she stammered, "I… I'm Isabella Brown…" "You're not Natalie Brown?" he asked, his voice dropping to an even colder register. "So you're the Brown family's second daughter…" Moisture gathered in Isabella's eyes as panic tightened her chest, and she nodded weakly, fear written all over her pale face. A sudden realization struck her—this man wasn't Nathaniel at all, but her would-be brother-in-law, Alexander. Everything had gone horribly wrong. An icy pressure radiated off Alexander, suffocating in its intensity. Curled tightly beneath the rumpled sheets, Isabella trembled as tears spilled freely down her cheeks. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" Fragments from the night before flickered through Alexander's mind—her clumsy, inexperienced responses, the faint, broken sounds she'd made, and the way her eyes had brimmed with tears at dawn. Of course… no wonder something had felt off. She'd been far too timid, too fragile. The truth settled in with brutal clarity—the sisters had been switched, placed with the wrong men… And he had taken the wrong woman. And Nathaniel and Natalie… Pressing two fingers to his aching temples, Alexander fixed a dark, unreadable look on the girl curled up on the bed, her narrow shoulders still trembling with helpless sobs. "Stay here. Don't leave this room unless I say so." His words scared Isabella so badly her crying cut off at once. With her eyes wet and red and the tip of her nose flushed pink, she looked heartbreakingly small. Without another word, Alexander turned and strode out of the bedroom, phone already in hand as he called Nathaniel. ... Elsewhere, Nathaniel was jolted awake by the shrill ring of his phone in the early morning. He cast a lazy glance at the woman beside him, still turned away with her back to him, before answering the call. "Who is this?" His voice was rough with sleep and obvious irritation. A faint disturbance pulled Natalie out of sleep. Rolling onto her side, she winced slightly, the lingering ache in her muscles making itself known with every small movement. Never had she imagined a man in his thirties could still possess such relentless stamina. Almost unconsciously, her hand drifted to rest over her lower abdomen, her fingers pressing lightly as quiet certainty settled in her mind—within three months, she would be pregnant… assuming there was nothing wrong with him. Everything hinged on that child. Once she carried Alexander's child, love or no love would no longer matter; her place as his wife in the Evans family would be secured, giving her the power she needed to shield Isabella. With that foundation in place, even if Isabella failed and was sent back to the Brown family, Natalie believed she could still speak to Alexander—soften him, persuade him—until he agreed to bring Isabella back under his protection. Nathaniel's voice cut cleanly through her spiraling thoughts, low and almost amused. "Come again? I ended up sleeping with my sister-in-law?" The sentence hit Natalie like a sudden bolt of thunder. A soft laugh slipped from Nathaniel's lips, casual and unconcerned. "Not exactly my sister-in-law though—you guys haven't registered the marriage yet. We can just switch back." With an easy tone, he added, "You don't have a problem with that, do you, Alex?" Once the call ended, Natalie pushed herself upright, fingers tightening around the blanket. Reclining against the headboard, Nathaniel remained bare-chested and utterly at ease, his sharp gaze lingering on the woman beside him as he quietly took her in. The whole situation felt surreal, almost laughably absurd. He hadn't been particularly interested in the woman his mother had chosen for him, but this kind of mix-up crossed into something ridiculous. That explained why Natalie had seemed so fearless the night before—her unexpected boldness had even caught him off guard. Memories of that night surfaced in both Nathaniel's and Natalie's minds, sharp and unmistakable. When Nathaniel had pushed open the bedroom door, his mother's warning still lingered in his ears—"Don't be too rough, and don't scare the girl… She's only twenty." Despite that gentle reminder, a rebellious streak had stirred in him, a quiet impulse to do exactly the opposite. She was only twenty—young, likely sheltered, and utterly inexperienced, he thought. Across the dimly lit room, Natalie sat composed and unflinching, her quiet confidence stirring a flicker of playful curiosity in him. A crooked hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he asked, almost lazily, "Do you even understand why you're here?" For a brief beat, Natalie stilled. Then, weighing Alexander's age and experience, she assumed he'd long grown used to women putting on sweet and innocent acts—there was no point in pretending to be coy now. Meeting his gaze head-on, she answered without hesitation, "I'm here to have sex with you." Nathaniel's brow lifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face when he realized she was already aware of it. A low chuckle slipped from his throat as he leaned back, unable to make out her features in the darkness, though her slim silhouette was unmistakable. "So, if we're doing this, at least try to make it worth my while first." Before the last word had fully left his lips, she shifted forward, settling onto his lap with a sudden decisiveness that caught Nathaniel off guard, her fingers already moving to his belt. Shock flashed through his eyes for a split second before it melted into a slow, intrigued smile, clearly entertained by her unexpected boldness. He cleared his throat softly, steadying his tone as he added, "Why don't you start by taking yours off?" For a brief moment, Nathaniel stilled himself, deliberately holding back any visible reaction so he wouldn't appear too eager. Inwardly, a satisfied thought flickered across his mind—his mother, it seemed, had made a surprisingly fitting choice this time. As his body lowered over hers, pressing her into the mattress, her voice suddenly cut through the tension. "Hold on, Mr. Evans." Before he could react, she reached beside her, grabbed a pillow, and slid it beneath her hips—a trick she'd heard that could help with getting pregnant. In Natalie's mind, there was no room for hesitation—only a single, unwavering goal: she had to get pregnant as soon as possible. "Let's… continue for about half an hour. Would that be alright?" A faint crease formed between Nathaniel's brows, irritation stirring as he felt reduced to nothing more than a means to her end. With deliberate ease, he slipped open the buttons of her shirt, and then lowered his head to claim her lips in a slow, lingering kiss. ... Afterward, Natalie tilted her head against his chest and murmured softly, "Would you… hold me like this for a bit?" A faint, amused curve touched Nathaniel's lips, his gaze lowering as he assumed she was—after all—just another inexperienced girl, craving warmth after the act. Just as he considered making her plead for it, her next words slipped out—calm, almost matter-of-fact. "It increases the chances of getting pregnant." Irritation flickered across his face, sharp and unmistakable. Instead, he brushed off her request entirely, letting the night drag on in a way that left her no chance for rest. ... Shock flickered through Nathaniel as the realization settled in—he had slept with the woman intended for his older brother, Alexander. From the corner of his eye, he studied Natalie, only to find her far steadier than he was. Pulling the blanket higher over her chest, she smoothed the fabric with composed fingers before breaking the heavy silence. "So... what happened last night… was a mix-up?" Watching her maintain that calm, almost detached composure, Nathaniel found his mind drifting back to the night before—how she had climbed onto him without hesitation, how she had even slipped a pillow beneath herself with quiet calculation—and the irritation he thought he'd shaken off began to creep in again, tightening subtly in his chest. A low scoff escaped him. "Yeah. Some mix-up." Displeasure creased Natalie's brow, though she swallowed whatever retort rose to her lips, clearly unwilling to waste time arguing. "Then what about your brother… what's he planning to do?" Concern laced Natalie's voice now, her thoughts clearly drifting toward Isabella—and the mess they were all tangled in. Natalie refused to let either herself or Isabella get sent back. Nathaniel remembered the icy edge in Alexander's voice on the phone and knew this mess would have to be dealt with back at the Evans Estate. Still, he said on purpose, "What else is there to do? We'll leave it as it is." At that, Natalie went still. In her mind, timid little Isabella had already been thrown into Alexander's hands, and a man like him was far too unreadable, far too dangerous. "No. Absolutely not." Panic sharpened her voice as she shot back. "Bella's too young and too innocent. She can't stay with your brother." With a faint, mocking look in his eyes, Nathaniel replied, "Natalie, do you really think the Evans family would tolerate a mess like this? Or do you honestly think my brother would agree to hand over a woman he'd already slept with and send her to my bed?" Nathaniel's words hit too close to the mark, draining the color from Natalie's face as her fingers curled tightly into her palms, nails pressing hard enough to sting. Deep down, she couldn't deny it—everything he said was true. There was no way the Evans family would ever allow something this outrageous to come to light. A hollow dimness crept into her eyes, and Nathaniel caught it instantly; the irritation in his chest eased a little, replaced by a faint, almost lazy amusement. In that fleeting shift, he recognized it—the one weak point beneath her composed exterior, the crack she couldn't quite hide. Leaning closer, he casually hooked a strand of her long hair around his finger, his voice slipping back into that easy, careless tone. "What's done is done. You might as well accept it. You'd be better off with me than my frigid brother. Isn't having a child what you want?" Leaning in until his breath ghosted over the shell of her ear, he dropped his voice to a low, coaxing whisper. "At least with me, getting pregnant won't be such a hassle—no tricks, no pillows." His words hit her like a sudden weight, and her chest tightened as her gaze dimmed. Concern for Isabella weighed heavily on her. It made little difference to Natalie herself which brother she ended up marrying, but as the eldest boy in the Evans family, Alexander came with far more than just himself—Isabella, as his future wife, would have to face not only him but his formidable parents as well.