Secretly Married: The CEO’s Hidden Bride

"Hey, miss, tonight's event is a private party. You need an invite to get in," the security guard at the hotel entrance told Amelia Boleyn, stopping her in her tracks.

Amelia glanced at the bustling banquet hall, a smirk tugging at her lips.

As Dorian Talbot's so-called wife, she didn't even have the right to enter the party, which was a welcome-back bash for him.

But Amelia wasn't here to party. She was here to talk divorce with Dorian.

Three years ago, the Boleyn Group hit a severe financial crisis. Wesley Boleyn, her father, had shamelessly invoked a long-standing marriage agreement with the Talbot family.

Dorian, the second son, had become the designated groom since the eldest Talbot son was already married.

Notorious in Harbor City, Dorian had been less than thrilled about the forced marriage. He'd provided a $300 million dowry to bail out the Boleyn Group, but with the stipulation that the marriage would dissolve after three years.

With only a few months left until the deadline, Amelia had to catch Dorian while he was in town to sort out the divorce.

Just then, a guy in a suit hurried out of the hotel.

Amelia recognized him right away as Dorian's assistant, Heath Smith.

"Heath!" she called out.

Heath stopped and turned to look at her.

Amelia was in a simple white dress, her slightly curly long hair cascading over her shoulders. She had a small face and was looking at him nervously with her clear eyes.

Heath frowned, clearly not recognizing her. "Who are you?"

Amelia lowered her voice, speaking urgently, "I'm here to..."

"You don't need to explain, I know why you're here," Heath cut her off, a knowing look on his face. "Follow me."

Heath's tone was polite but had a hint of disdain that Amelia couldn't miss.

Did Dorian know she was coming?

Puzzled and trying to keep her cool, Amelia followed Heath through the fancy corridor to a lounge.

Heath opened the door, motioning for her to go in, then left and closed the door behind her.

The room was dim, with the curtains half-drawn. Only a few strands of moonlight seeped through, lighting up the large sofa in the center.

A man sat there with his back to her, his posture straight. Even in the dim light, his powerful presence was undeniable.

Amelia's heart started racing.

Was this Dorian?

She had seen him countless times on TV, but in person, he seemed even more intimidating.

"Mr. Talbot, I..." Amelia began.

"I know," Dorian's deep voice echoed in the silent room, slightly raspy.

"Since you know, that makes things easier," Amelia continued, trying to stay calm. "The three-year term is almost up, we..."

Before she could say "divorce," Dorian suddenly stood up, his tall figure towering over her.

Amelia instinctively took a step back, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his strong embrace.

Amelia gasped, and before she could react, Dorian had her on the sofa.

The faint scent of alcohol mixed with Dorian's unique crisp aroma surrounded her.

Amelia struggled to push him away, but Dorian's strength was overwhelming.

"Dorian, what are you doing? Let go of me!" Amelia shouted, a mix of shame and anger in her voice as she hit his solid shoulder with all her might.

Dorian ignored her, his hot breath brushing against her earlobe, sending a shiver down her spine.

In the dim light, his face slowly came into focus.

He had a chiseled jawline, deep and striking features, and a high nose bridge. His thin lips were pressed tightly together, and despite his good looks, he exuded a cold aura.

His usually deep blue eyes were now clouded with a dangerous emotion, like a volcano about to erupt, hot and perilous.

Amelia's heart tightened with anxiety. "Dorian, you..."

"Shut up!" Dorian cut her off harshly, lowering his head to kiss her fiercely.

Amelia's eyes widened in disbelief at his handsome face so close to hers.

Was he out of his mind?

Did he even know what he was doing?

The unfamiliar sensation spread through her body like an electric current, making her gradually heat up, a sense of panic she had never felt before rising in her mind.

Instinctively, she raised her hand to slap him.

But Dorian anticipated it, easily dodging and pinning her wrist, pushing her down onto the floor beside the sofa.

"Since you are just a fucking whore, act like one." Dorian's cold voice was filled with undisguised mockery and disgust.

Amelia felt a surge of anger, her expression turning icy.

What did he take her for?

As Dorian's wife, Amelia came to find him. How dare he arrange for a prostitute and then mistake her for one?

She was about to speak when Dorian roughly gagged her with his tie.

Amelia struggled, only to be met with more violent acts from Dorian.

The atmosphere grew increasingly sensual, and Amelia's consciousness gradually blurred.

The phone rang in the darkness, and Amelia felt a dip beside her, followed by footsteps, and the ringing grew fainter.

Amelia's consciousness slowly returned, the soreness in her body and the lingering fragments of memory in her mind bringing her back to full awareness.

She and Dorian were about to divorce, but she had ended up having sex with Dorian!

Damn it!

Amelia cursed under her breath, lifting the blanket to get out of bed.

But she found herself sore all over, especially her genital area, where an indescribable pain radiated.

She held her waist, gritting her teeth as she got out of bed.

Looking around, she saw her clothes scattered messily on the floor, and Dorian was nowhere to be seen.

"Wesley, did you think I cared about Amelia?" From the next room, Dorian's deep voice came, filled with undisguised mockery and disgust.

Amelia's heart skipped a beat.

"If it weren't for you forcing me, would I have married Amelia? Wasn't the $300 million I gave you enough?" Dorian's voice was icy.

Amelia felt as if she had fallen into an ice cave, her blood freezing.

"Wesley, I'm telling you, the west side project is not happening! Give it up!" Dorian's voice was full of warning.

Listening to the conversation outside, Amelia's face grew increasingly pale.

She never expected her father to call Dorian, asking him to give up the west side project!

From the sound of it, Wesley seemed to be planning to use her as a bargaining chip?

How could he be so callous?

Amelia clenched her fists tightly, her nails digging into flesh, not feeling any pain. Given what had transpired in this very room earlier, maybe her husband's cruel accusation wasn't far from the truth—perhaps she was closer to being a pawn, or even a prostitute, than she had ever imagined.

Amelia looked around and saw a black handbag on the nightstand.

She pondered, a bold idea forming in her mind.

Just then, the door was opened by Dorian.

Amelia's heart raced, and she instinctively grabbed the handbag, lunging at Dorian.