Page 17 of Ruthless Monarch


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As much as I want to object, I know I can’t.

I’m used to being searched. I’m used to my things being searched. It’s the nature of my family, so I know what they have to do. Instead of objecting, I spread my arms out, and I kick out my legs.

Might as well make it easy for them.

It doesn’t take them long. They obviously don’t find anything.

One of the guys nods, and then Matteo starts to walk.

He doesn’t wait for me, but I follow him regardless.

Like a lost puppy trying to find its way.

Neither of us speaks one word, and I feel as though the silence is oppressive.

Or maybe it’s my nerves that are.

Either way, I feel like an athlete with asthma who ran a marathon and realized they forgot their inhaler once they got to the finish line.

My only hope is he doesn’t realize how off-kilter I am.

If he does, he at least has the decency not to say anything as he stops and opens the door for me, allowing me to walk through first.

I’m surprised when I step inside.

This warehouse is a fully furnished and functioning house.

“I will show you to your room.” He doesn’t wait for me to answer before he starts to walk in the direction of a hallway. I watch as he strides in front of me, walking tall and with a purpose. This man is always in complete command of every situation, even something as simple as heading down the hall. I wonder if he can ever relax. Ever smile.

The smirk from the night of the club pops into my head. My cheeks start to warm as the memory of that night, of the way he looked at me, attacks my senses.

No. That was a fantasy; this is reality. Do not remember that smile.

I shut down all the thoughts running wild in my head and follow Matteo until he comes to a stop in front of an elevator.

He pushes the button, and it opens.

I’m not sure how many floors this building has. By the looks from the outside, I’d say five.

Then we get to the sixth floor, and it’s bigger than I thought.

He leads me down another hallway, opening the door.

The room is large. It is much bigger than my bedroom in my apartment. It’s about the same size as my bedroom in the governor’s mansion. But where that room is ornate and over-the-top, this room is bare bones.

Modern.

Sterile.

Almost like an expensive jail cell for the rich and famous. White lines, white pillows, and very white, barren walls. I have never seen a room this void of color. If I didn’t know better, I would think he designed this place to perform surgery. However, the 800 thread count Egyptian cotton begs to differ.

“You will be instructed tomorrow with the plans.”

He then steps out and closes the door behind him.

I wait for him to lock it. My mind references every fairy tale, but then I realize there is no need when nothing happens.

He doesn’t need to lock the doors. He doesn’t need to forbid me to leave.

I have no place to go, and even if I did, I wouldn’t be safe.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be safe.

With a deep inhale, I lock the door and make my way farther into the room.

I noticed on the right side is another door, so I swing it open to find the bathroom. It’s fully stocked, and I wonder if it’s stocked for me?

I grab a toothbrush and some toothpaste and brush my teeth, and then once I’m done, I wash my face.

When I step back into the room, I finally notice that whoever took my bag earlier must have already swept it for bugs because it now sits on top of the chair in the corner.

The blood in my veins runs cold.

The message is clear . . . a lock won’t keep me safe. Not wanting to think about it, I’m quick to get out of my clothes and put my pajamas on.

I can barely keep my eyes open after the day I’ve had. I’m so tired, I go to sit down in the bed. But as much as I want to fall asleep, I don’t know if I’ll be able to.

An endless loop plays in my brain.

What will tomorrow bring?

The harder and more depressing question being, what will my future bring?

Now lying on my soft bed, nestled in big fluffy pillows, I know I should be sleeping. I’ll need all my strength for tomorrow, but instead, a thought pops into my head . . .

What will my father do when he finds out I betrayed him?

What will marrying Matteo entail?

Did I make the right choice?

Did I really have any choice at all?

I toss and turn, both thoughts at war with each other.

The question is, which enemy is scarier?

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