Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Forced Marriage After One Wild Night

Lancelot watched Calista throw herself at him with reckless determination, and a faint smirk curved his lips.

So she was the Monroe heiress? Well, now this was getting interesting.

He was supposed to meet with President Hepburn tonight-but who knew he'd get knocked out by some mystery gas instead?

This kind of bold stunt... yeah, this was a first even for him.

Seeing Calista throw herself over, Lancelot didn't resist at all. His arms reached out and wrapped smoothly around her slim waist.

That sudden wave of masculine heat and hormones instantly turned Calista's face scarlet.

Her heart skipped crazily, a heat rising through her whole body.

She was technically dating Lucas-but their relationship had been more PG than a drama on public TV. A few casual hand-holds, not even a kiss, let alone anything like... this.

So what came next between a man and a woman?

Right-clothes off.

Panicking and flustered, Calista took a deep breath, then yanked at Lancelot's shirt like her life depended on it, climbed on top of him, and started nipping like a puppy with no training.

As Calista fumbled around, Lancelot's eyes darkened, stormy and unreadable. He inhaled sharply, palms steadying her waist.

She continued kissing him clumsily, glancing up from under those misty eyes.

His look turned even more intense now-deep, blurry, heart-stopping.

In that moment, she reminded him so much of a little girl from long ago...

"Ahem... So, uh... what now?" Calista mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing uneven, and strands of sweat-damp hair clung stubbornly to her temples.

After half an hour of chaotic fumbling, her nerves were frayed and her pride all but abandoned.

She tried not to stare-but it was impossible. Lancelot's bare chest rose and fell steadily in the dim light, sculpted like something out of a dream. The heat radiating off his skin made the space between them feel even smaller.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound rough, indulgent, and far too dangerous for her already-frazzled state. Reaching out, he gently covered her eyes with one calloused palm, leaning in until his lips nearly brushed her ear.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, voice like silk over steel, "you just stirred up a storm you're not ready for."

He had been holding back-barely. The drug simmered in his veins, but he'd fought it with sheer willpower. Until now. Until she, trembling and bold, had practically climbed into his lap like a lit fuse begging to be ignited.

And so he stopped fighting.

In one smooth, deliberate motion, he shifted, rolling her beneath him. The air shifted with them. The half-spoken question on her lips was swallowed by his kiss-deep, slow-burning, and devastatingly assured.

Calista gasped against him, her eyes wide, stunned. She should have pulled away. Should have said something. But all she could do was cling to him, arms instinctively wrapping around his bare torso, her fingers grazing the firm lines of his back like she was afraid to let go.

Their bodies aligned-warm skin against warm skin-so close it made her dizzy.

His breath fanned across her cheek, his hand finding her waist with quiet possession. He didn't rush. He didn't need to.

Every movement was deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to unravel her, thread by thread.

Whatever had started between them-it was no longer a game.

The room was silent now, save for the whisper of breath and the soft rustle of sheets. A slow, dangerous heat smoldered in the space between them. Not quite fire. Not yet. But it was coming.

And neither of them was backing away.

*****

The next morning.

Calista clutched the blanket around her like armor, staring at the still-sleeping Lancelot on the bed, her pretty face locked in a pure "what-the-hell" expression.

Who told her it wouldn't hurt? She was going to find those people and personally flatten them.

This man was straight-up brutal. Zero gentleness last night, seriously.

But no, now wasn't the time to sulk over that.

After a deep breath, Calista snatched a nearby cup and splashed water right in Lancelot's face.

He jerked awake immediately.

Blinking slowly, his sharp, fox-like eyes narrowed slightly as they locked onto her face-still half-lidded but already tinged with cold amusement.

Calista flinched under the man's sharp, icy gaze, but she quickly straightened her neck and jabbed a finger at Lancelot, screaming,

"You animal! What the hell did you do to me last night?!"

Lancelot slowly reined in the pressure in his eyes and stood up unhurriedly. Pulling on his clothes with a casual grace, he grabbed another set and tossed them to Calista, voice low and rough,

"Put this on."

"Don't try to change the subject! What, you think you can get away with it just because we slept together? Think again. The world doesn't work like that."

His voice hit a nerve as Calista shivered slightly. With a cough and arms clutching her clothes, she scowled and barked back stubbornly,

"You're not gonna just walk away from this."

Standing right in front of her and looking down with obvious arrogance, Lancelot said coolly,

"From what I remember, you knocked me out, dragged me here, and jumped me. Should I be calling the cops on you for assault and emotional damage, lady?"

Calista's face turned an ugly shade of green.

This guy's supposed to be Lucas's dad since when is he such a jerk? Everything was going off-script.

Trying to keep calm, she clenched her fists and said stiffly,

"I've seen lowlifes, but you? You take the cake. Not only do you walk out after sleeping with me, you actually have the guts to blame me for it? Should I report you and let all of Crownvale know what a sleazebag you are?"

She jabbed a finger dangerously close to his face, her voice blasting his ears.

Lancelot's eyes shimmered with a teasing light.

"So, what do you suggest I do?"

"Marry me. You think you can just sleep with me and walk away? No way. I'm not one of those pushovers," Calista barked, not missing a beat.

"Alright." Lancelot didn't even blink before agreeing.

Calista froze on the spot.

She'd imagined dozens of scenarios-him refusing, her threatening to release fake footage, blackmailing him into saying yes. She was all set to go nuclear if needed.

But this guy... just agreed. That easy?

"You got your ID? Today's a weekday. Let's register now. You pick the date for the wedding," he added.

"It has to be the same day as Felicity and Lucas's. I'm still waiting for them to kneel and call me 'Mom' during the tea ceremony!"

The words blurted out of her before she could stop herself. The moment they did, she slapped a hand over her mouth in horror.

What the hell did she just say?

Lancelot acted like he hadn't heard the outburst at all. Still composed, he just said,

"Your call. Now get dressed-let's go get that marriage certificate."

"Okay, got it!"

Calista scrambled to throw on her clothes, sloppily buttoning her shirt as if afraid he'd suddenly change his mind. She immediately clung to him and dragged him toward the door.

Lancelot chuckled to himself watching her flustered pace.

This woman... really reminded him of someone.

Maybe that was why he went along with this madness.