Forced to Wed: A Billionaire's Demand

Chapter 9

Vincent Sterling, 35 years old..

My perfectly smooth brow crinkles in frustration, and my jaw tenses as I fight to suppress the irritation that boils within me toward my new wife. Ever since I met her, she seems to always know how to push my buttons. Right now, here she is, rolling around in sheets like a weirdo.

My frustration deepens as I watch her seemingly carefree antics. "What the hell are you doing?"

"These sheets are so soft! I want to be wrapped in them like a burrito. What's the thread count on these bad boys?" she asks.

"What is wrong with her?" I mutter, my tone a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

She giggles, seemingly amused at my reaction. "Come on, Hubby, it's so cozy! Join me!"

I clench my jaw. "Don't call me Hubby."

"What am I supposed to call you then? Daddy?" she asks.

"Vincent, just call me Vincent. Now get up. You are acting like a fool," I order.

"No. I think I will call you Daddy since you are old enough to be my Sugar Daddy. Also, I think I will take a nap now," she says.

"A nap? We just got here and you woke up not too long ago," I grunt.

"So what? I am tired. You violated me last night, so I need some time to recover," she declares and covers herself with the blanket.

Violated? I flashback to last night. It was hours ago when her moans filled the hotel room, and her body responded eagerly to my touch. She was hardly violated.

Though I do admit, I could've been more gentle. I handled her like how I usually handled other women, even though she was a virgin.

I take a deep breath, attempting to regain control of my raging emotions.

When I decided to take her from her asshole father, I didn't think I would take things this far. I almost backed out of the deal when he told me she was only nineteen years old, making me sixteen years older than her.

And when we got married, I thought I would control myself and not touch her, but the pull of her innocence and vulnerability was too strong to resist. She is like a delicate flower, untouched by the world's harshness, and I couldn't help but want to corrupt her a little.

And her sassy mouth makes me want to teach her a lesson.

Leaning against the doorframe, I cross my arms over my chest, studying her as she burrows deeper into the soft sheets.

"Listen," I say calmly, forcing myself to soften my voice. "I need you to stop acting like a teenage girl and act more like an adult from now on."

She peeks out from beneath the covers, her gaze uncertain. "I am technically still a teenager."

"When is your birthday?" I ask.

"July 2nd," she replies.

"That's in two months. You will be twenty then," I say impatiently.

"Pfft...so what? That still makes me young and you a perverted old man," she hisses and goes back under the blanket.

My anger flares up at her comment, but I know I need to tread carefully. The last thing I need is for her to throw a tantrum and make a scene. Taking a deep breath, I push aside my frustration and adopt a more composed demeanor.

"Listen, sweetheart," I say, my voice calm. "I am not that old. And what matters is that we're married now, and it's time for you to start acting like the woman I want you to be."

She peeks out from under the covers again, her eyebrows raised in defiance. "And what does that mean? Acting like the woman you want me to be?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. It's obvious she's trying to provoke me, and falling into her trap would only give her the satisfaction she seeks. Instead, I decide to take a different approach.

"It means conducting yourself with grace, maturity, and respect," I reply, my tone firm but controlled. "You're no longer living under your father's roof. You're mine now."

A flicker of uncertainty crosses her face before she quickly masks it with a defiant smirk. "Oh really? Well, I don't want to be yours."

I suppress a chuckle at her feeble attempt at rebellion. It's clear she has no idea who she's dealing with.

"Well, little one," I say, stepping closer to the bed, "you should know better than to challenge me. We both know how this arrangement works."

"Yes, but you didn't say I couldn't nap. So go away," she says and turns to her side.

I sigh in resignation. This is not going the way I want it to go.

My frustration simmers beneath the surface, but I decide to retreat for the moment. Arguing more won't get us anywhere. I step away from the bed and head towards the door.

"Fine, take your nap, but only for an hour. I am taking you somewhere after," I say firmly before leaving the room.

I go downstairs to my study and then ring the bell to summon Jennifer. Jennifer has been working for my family for decades, and she is a loyal employee to me.

Jennifer arrives promptly, her expression neutral but attentive. She's seen enough family drama over the years to maintain an air of professionalism.

"You rang, sir?" she asks.

I nod, leaning against my desk. "Prepare a car. We're going out in an hour."

Her brows raise. "Any specific destination, sir?"

I think about my new bride upstairs and feel irritated again. "We are having dinner with Sophia."

Jennifer inclines her head in understanding. "Very well, sir. I'll make the arrangements."

"What is it?" I ask her as she hesitates at the door. "Anything you want to add?"

"I haven't introduced myself to your new bride yet, but I saw her. She is quite adorable," Jennifer says.

I scoff. "That's one way to describe her, I guess."

Jennifer's lips quirks into a smile. "You don't think so?"

"She is a handful. I need to teach her how to be obedient," I say gruffly.

"Well, sir, sometimes it takes time for people to adjust to new situations. Perhaps she'll surprise you," she suggests diplomatically.

I raise an eyebrow at her optimism. "We'll see."