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An extra moment to try to figure out how to get out of this mess.
A moment ago I wasn’t regretting this decision, but now?
The idea of anyone inside me other than Falcon Bellamy has me ready to hurl. My belly cramps—an intense pain, like a knife slicing into my stomach.
Acid rises in my throat, but I swallow it down.
Big mistake, because rhythmic contractions start in my gut and diaphragm.
The salmon, the salad, the?—
All of it.
All of it’s coming.
Then it explodes with projectile force out of my mouth and right into Miles’s face.
I retch once, twice, three times until Miles, the bed, and I are all covered in puke.
“My God!” Miles spits the vomit from his mouth. “Fucking disgusting. Jesus!”
He scrambles off the bed and into my bathroom. I hear the whoosh of the faucet on the sink.
The acrid scent of puke erupts around me. I wrinkle my nose, feel nauseated again, but then I inhale once more.
Still disgusting, but in a way it’s sweeter than a rose in bloom because it got Miles McAllister off of me.
I’ve no doubt he’ll be back because for some reason he needs to marry me.
Some reason I need to figure out.
But it’s not going to happen tonight.
My green silk nightgown is covered in barf. I get off the bed, pull off the comforter.
It looks like it didn’t seep through to the sheets, so that’s good.
I’m not sure what to do, because I won’t be able to open my door to get the comforter out of here. Still, the stench will overwhelm me eventually, so I need to at least get it as far away from me as possible. I drag the soiled comforter out of the bedroom and through the sitting area to the door and?—
I gasp.
The door is cracked, but only slightly. No sliver of light from the hallway is visible. Only about an inch of the wood is visible, with no actual crack where I can pull it open.
He really fucking didn’t make sure the door was closed and locked? Anyone could have walked in on him raping me?
Maybe that’s it. Maybe he wanted someone to walk in on us. Just the chance of being caught would have added an extra layer of thrill to this sicko. Any unwitting servant who accidentally walked in would catch an eyeful of him dominating his woman, his rightfully won conquest.
Jesus.
Could I open it the rest of the way? There’s no doorknob on this side—only a brass plate with a keyhole.
The water is still running in the bathroom, and then I hear Miles turn on the shower.
He’ll clean himself up and then no doubt come back for me and throw me in so I’ll be clean when he finishes what he started.
I have to be gone by then.
I leave the comforter in a heap on the floor and try to figure out how to get the door open without making it close back on itself and click the lock into place.
