The Devil's Betrothed novel Chapter 511

Chapter 511: Scared To Face The Truth

Arlan ushered Oriana into the chamber, her protests and scolding persisting without respite.

"You scoundrel," she seethed, "I haven’t given my consent. Let me go!"

Despite her resistance, Arlan gently guided her towards the bed. However, instead of setting her down with care upon the inviting softness of the mattress, he ruthlessly tossed her onto it as if she weighed no more than a feather.

Oriana, now flabbergasted, shot him an incensed glare as she adjusted her tousled hair that had fallen over her face. Her anger simmered as she hissed, "You... How dare you..."

Arlan, seemingly unperturbed, stood composedly beside the bed. "You asked to be let go, so I obliged."

Gathering her composure, Oriana settled herself on the bed, glaring at Arlan as she attempted to rectify her disheveled appearance resulting from his unceremonious toss.

"Why did you even carry me? And throw me like this? What exactly are you trying to prove?" she demanded.

A sly smirk played on Arlan’s lips. "It seems you’re disappointed that I merely placed you here rather than engaging in any activities befitting a husband."

"Delusional," Oriana spat out, her anger still palpable.

Arlan couldn’t help but conceal a smug smile, finding immense satisfaction in seeing Oriana seething with anger. He had always enjoyed this side of her, the way her tiny nose would flush with crimson when her temper flared. It had been quite some time since he had the privilege of witnessing it.

During her tenure as his servant, she had been restrained in her responses, but now, as his wife, she was free to express herself as she saw fit. He wished to see her like this and not act so submissive while suppressed under the guilt she felt due to her family. He will do everything to annoy and anger her and bring back that Oriana who he missed.

As he deftly unfastened the buttons of his outer jacket, his gaze remained unwaveringly locked onto her. "Let’s see who is delusion," he declared, gracefully shedding the jacket and unbolting top few buttons of his white shirt before climbing that huge bed.

Instinctively, Oriana retreated, maintaining a wary distance. "Stay away, or don’t blame me if I’m forced to defend myself. I won’t hold back from harming you."

"Go ahead," he responded, undeterred, continuing his approach.

Her gaze darted toward the edge of the bed, contemplating escape. However, before she could make a move, Arlan swiftly pulled her back and skillfully flipped her onto the bed. He pressed her firmly beneath him, her delicate body trying to struggle and his hands pinned hers to the mattress.

"Release me," Oriana continued to struggle against his firm grasp.

"Can’t you stay quiet for just a moment?" Arlan implored.

"I refuse to," she retorted defiantly.

Arlan quirked an eyebrow at her determination. "Do you truly believe you can challenge me?" he inquired, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Oriana was well aware that her physical strength paled in comparison to his, but her pride refused to let her surrender. "I told you, let me go."

"Do you want my mother to discover that I’ve disappointed her?"

Her protests ceased as Oriana glanced back at him, curiosity piqued. "How would your mother ever know what we do here?"

Arlan couldn’t help but chuckle softly, his breath teasing her earlobe as he pressed a gentle kiss there, causing her to shiver and grit her teeth. "Enough. Answer my question."

"My sweet little wife, do you underestimate the power of the Queen of this kingdom?" His voice grew more earnest as he spoke. "She’s the most influential woman in this kingdom, with her own network and resources. She would know where we spend our time and how we spend it. If I were to make a mistake, she holds the authority to reprimand me, the Crown Prince of this kingdom. Can you imagine the kind of power you will wield in the future when you ascend to the throne as Queen?"

As the weight on her body was gone, Oriana lay on the bed, her breath still somewhat labored from her earlier resistance. "Why didn’t you inform me beforehand? I would have willingly come to your chamber and spared us both this commotion."

A sly smirk danced across Arlan’s lips as he turned to face her on his side. "Where’s the fun in that?"

’What the...’ she almost cursed in her mind. Oriana’s glare deepened. Had this all been an elaborate scheme to provoke her and stoke her anger? What was the use of making her angry?

"You are insufferable," she grumbled, making an attempt to rise from the bed.

However, Arlan swiftly pulled her back into his embrace, holding her closer, her back pressing against his firm chest.

"As you’ve chosen to cooperate," he murmured, his hand tracing a path along her curvaceous waist, inhaling the scent of musk from her hair, "what do you say we see this through to the end?"

She swatted his hand away. "Behave yourself, or I’ll inform your mother the truth and later on also devise a plan that might result in her punishing you."