Chapter 6 The Wedding Night Reenactment

# Chapter 6: The Wedding Night Reenactment

The call came at midnight—Callum, requesting my presence at the harbor. No explanation, just an address and a time. I should have ignored it, maintained the distance I'd carefully constructed over the past week since the confrontation in my apartment. Instead, I found myself stepping onto the private dock where Callum's yacht, "Monarch," gleamed in the moonlight.

A steward in crisp whites greeted me, escorting me aboard without a word. The vessel was obscenely luxurious—all polished teak, gleaming brass, and cream leather. As we glided through the silent harbor, I was led to the main salon where Callum waited, swirling cognac in a crystal snifter.

"You came," he said, not turning to look at me. "I wasn't certain you would."

"Curiosity is my fatal flaw," I replied, keeping my distance. "What is this about, Callum?"

He turned then, his eyes trailing over my form—the simple black dress I'd chosen, my hair loose around my shoulders. "I have a proposition for you."

"Another one?" I moved to the bar, pouring myself water. "Your last proposition resulted in quite the scandal."

"This one is more... formal." He set down his glass and approached me, his movements fluid and controlled. "I want to offer you a deal."

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"Marriage," he said simply. "To me, not my son."

The water glass nearly slipped from my fingers. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." He was close now, close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. "Divorce Gideon. Marry me instead. The child you're carrying—whether mine or his—will be legitimized as my heir. You'll have everything you've ever wanted: the Monette name, the fortune, the power."

"And what do you get from this arrangement?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice steady.

His smile was slow, predatory. "You. Exclusively mine."

The yacht engines hummed beneath us as we moved further from shore, the Manhattan skyline receding into a glittering backdrop. I set down my glass, careful not to betray the trembling in my hands.

"You've brought me to international waters to propose?" I asked.

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"I've brought you here to give you a taste of what I'm offering." He gestured around us. "This yacht, my homes, my companies—all would be yours. Our child would want for nothing."

"And if the child is Gideon's?"

"DNA is just science," Callum replied dismissively. "Legacy is what matters. Under my name, this child would inherit an empire."

He turned away, moving to a side door that I hadn't noticed before. Opening it, he beckoned me forward. Curiosity winning again, I followed him into a stateroom that had been transformed. White roses everywhere, champagne on ice, and laid across the king-sized bed—a wedding dress.

Not just any wedding dress. An exact replica of the one I'd worn to marry Gideon.

"What is this?" I whispered, shock washing over me.

"A second chance," Callum said, standing behind me now, his breath warm on my neck. "A reenactment of sorts. The wedding night you should have had."

His hands came to rest lightly on my shoulders, and despite myself, I felt that familiar heat spreading through my body. This man—this manipulative, dangerous man—affected me in ways I couldn't control.

"You're insane," I said, but didn't move away.

"Perhaps." His lips brushed my ear. "But I'm also the only one who sees you for what you truly are."

I turned to face him, our bodies inches apart. "And what am I, Callum?"

"A perfect match for me." His hand cupped my face, thumb tracing my lower lip. "Ambitious. Ruthless when necessary. Unafraid of power."

I should have walked away. Should have demanded he return me to shore immediately. Instead, I found myself saying, "If I were to consider this... arrangement... I would have conditions."

Interest flickered in his eyes. "Name them."

"Shares," I said firmly. "Not just access to your wealth through marriage, but actual ownership. I want twenty percent of Monette Holdings transferred to me directly."

Callum's expression hardened. "You aim high."

"I aim for security," I countered. "If I'm going to be vilified as the woman who divorced the son to marry the father, I want something tangible for my trouble."

He stepped back, studying me with new appreciation. "Ten percent."

"Fifteen, and voting rights on the board."

A slow smile spread across his face. "You want to become me."

I matched his smile with my own. "I want to become more than you."

He moved to the champagne, popping the cork with practiced ease. As he poured two glasses, he asked, "And what of Gideon? He won't surrender you without a fight."

I accepted the flute he offered. "Gideon's feelings are not my concern. He made his choice in that bathroom."

"And Odessa? The child she carries?"

"A complication," I admitted. "But one that can be managed with enough money."

Callum raised his glass in a toast. "To new beginnings."

We drank, our eyes locked over the crystal rims. The champagne was exquisite, but nothing compared to the intoxication of the power play unfolding between us.

"Try it on," he said suddenly, nodding toward the wedding dress.

"The dress?"

"I want to see you in it. I want to be the one who removes it this time."

The boldness of his statement sent a shiver down my spine. This was madness—and yet I found myself moving toward the bed, lifting the gown. It was identical to my original, down to the last pearl.

"Turn around," I instructed.

He complied, though I could see his smile reflected in the stateroom's window. I slipped out of my black dress and into the wedding gown, the silk cool against my skin.

"You can look now."

Callum turned, his eyes darkening as he took me in. "Perfect," he murmured, closing the distance between us. His hand slid around my waist, pulling me against him. "Now tell me, Clarette. Who do you belong to tonight?"

I placed my palm against his chest, feeling his heart race beneath expensive fabric. "That depends," I whispered. "On whether you're ready to sign those share certificates."

His laugh was low, appreciative. "Always negotiating."

"Always winning," I corrected.

His mouth claimed mine then, the kiss deep and consuming. I let myself respond, let the heat build between us as his hands traced the contours of the wedding dress.

"The bath is prepared," he murmured against my lips, guiding me toward another door.

It opened to reveal a bathroom of obscene luxury, dominated by a massive tub filled with what appeared to be... champagne.

"You can't be serious," I said, but couldn't help the laugh that escaped me.

"I never joke about indulgence," Callum replied, his fingers already working on the dress's tiny buttons.

As the gown slipped from my shoulders, I made my decision. I would play this game—his game—but I would rewrite the rules. The Monette empire would be mine, one way or another.

I stepped into the champagne bath, the bubbles fizzing against my skin, and held out my hand to him. "Your move, Callum."