The Extraordinary Bride Of The Wyndham Family (Isla and Gabriel) novel Chapter 159

**Extraordinary Bride 159**

That very night, Ben found himself tossing and turning in the expansive bed of his luxurious penthouse. The sheets felt like a prison, wrapping around him as his thoughts spiraled into chaos.

Meanwhile, Betsy stood by the window, her figure silhouetted against the vibrant city skyline. The cold glass pressed against her forehead, a stark contrast to the warmth of the memories flooding her mind. She had followed him home after parting ways with Isla and Gabriel, a decision that felt both reckless and inevitable.

His words reverberated in her mind like a haunting melody: “Marry me.” How could he utter such a life-altering proposal with such casual ease, as if it were merely another transaction in his world of influence and authority? Her heart twisted in knots, a tumult of confusion and an aching desire she had fought so hard to suppress.

Betsy had always kept her distance from men, erecting walls to shield her from emotions that threatened to creep in. She had sought the thrill of raw, unbridled intimacy—intense encounters that left her breathless and fulfilled—but nothing beyond that.

That’s precisely why she had allowed Ben to step into her life, beginning with that electrifying night at the club. The moment she caught a glimpse of his confident smile, she knew he was not the kind of man who would weave promises or expect commitments. Their arrangement had felt perfect: stolen moments of passion, devoid of questions or emotional entanglements.

But now, everything had unraveled. Their secret was laid bare, exposed to the world like an open wound. And the pregnancy—how had this happened? She had been diligent with her birth control, yet here she was, carrying his child, her body betraying her in the most profound and unexpected way.

Trapped in a web of vulnerability, she faced the prospect of a proposal for a loveless marriage—a cold, calculated arrangement to ensure his heir while her heart shattered in silence.

“I need you, Betsy,” his deep, husky voice sliced through her turbulent thoughts, sending a shiver cascading down her spine. His hands found her waist, tender yet possessive, pulling her back against his solid chest. The warmth radiating from him seeped through her thin nightshirt, igniting a familiar fire low in her belly, even as a storm raged within her.

“Please,” he whispered against her neck, his lips brushing against her sensitive skin, hot and insistent. A soft moan escaped her lips before she could even think to suppress it, her body instinctively arching into his touch, betraying her resolve.

Tears welled in her eyes, hot and unbidden, spilling down her cheeks like a silent confession. She loathed this—loathed the depth of her feelings for him, the way her very soul yearned for something more than the mere physical connection he offered. He didn’t love her; he craved her body, her submission, a means to fulfill his desires.

To him, she was merely a vessel for pleasure and convenience. Yet her traitorous body responded eagerly, her nipples hardening, her core clenching with an insatiable need.

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