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“I heard on your way here what happened,” she sniffs, pushing me with her knuckles in the small of my back at the slightest hesitation as I start to climb the staircase. “Disgraceful, for the daughter of a great family to behave so. Your father should have whipped you bloody for it, but I suppose my son will take care of the matter. You’ll find no coddling here, so don’t expect it,” she adds. “We wake up early; we’re not a lazy household. You’ll take meals with the family and pull your weight until you learn your place and how things are done. You won’t play the grand lady with us. You may be my son’s betrothed, but I am his mother, and so far, you’ve done nothing but cuckold him. Until you give him a son, you are nothing. Do you understand?”
By the time her speech is finished, we’ve ascended past the third floor to a smaller section of the house that feels stuffy, the air cold and dry. I shiver as she pushes open the first door we come to, revealing a simple bedroom with a four-poster bed, a rug, fireplace, wardrobe and vanity, and nothing else.
I turn to go inside, but she grabs the back of my neck, pinching me as she stops me in my tracks. “Answer me, you little bitch.”
The venom in her voice startles me. “I understand,” I whisper, too shocked and afraid to fight back. She shoves me forward into the room, following me inside.
“There are clothes in the wardrobe, there. I brought up some of Lucia’s old things. Get that ridiculous gown and those jewels off. The bathroom is through there—” she gestures at the door to the left of the room. “It’s yours, attached to this suite. Nightclothes are in the wardrobe as well. You’ll be woken up at six sharp, don’t even think about sleeping in.”
I have no idea what time of night it is now, but I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep. The idea of being up so early makes me feel something close to despair, I’m so exhausted and in so much pain, but I already know better than to argue. Diego’s mother looks like she’d like nothing better than to slap the other side of my face.
“I understand,” I say meekly, and she purses her lips.
“Brat,” she hisses, but she doesn’t strike me. “Just make sure you don’t take too long to come down in the morning, or you’ll be punished.”
And then she strides out, the door closing firmly behind her—and I hear the turn of a key.
I’m locked in.
It’s no surprise, not really. Diego was never going to leave me in an unlocked room. I’m not a guest here; I’m a prisoner—but I knew that, too, from the moment he carried me off.
I look around the room, trying to ground myself, to think through the fog of pain and tiredness. It’s clean and comfortable enough, even if it’s far simpler than what I’m used to. It’s more like where our staff and the guards who were assigned to the house stayed at my family’s home. I’d be willing to bet that Diego and his family sleep in much grander rooms downstairs, but I don’t really care. The simplicity of it reminds me of Niall’s hotel room. That thought brings a warm comfort for one moment—until I remember the reality of the situation.
Niall knows I lied. He likely hates me now, just like everyone here. What we had is gone, shattered by the discovery that I’d chosen the worst possible man by complete accident to be the one I gave my virginity to. There’s no comfort to be found in those memories anymore.
I need to sleep.I have no doubt I’ll be hauled bodily out of bed in the morning if I don’t get up at the appropriate time. I look at the bed, feeling both a dizzying urge to fall into it and a sick fear at the idea of being asleep in this house, even more vulnerable than I already am.
It’s a struggle to get out of my clothing. My fingers feel thick and numb as I try to take off my mother’s ruby necklace and earrings, feeling doubly sick that these things are now technically in possession of the Gonzalez household. They might be mine for now, but nothing will stop Diego from taking anything he wants to, and once we’re married, anything that’s mine will belong to him. Including family heirlooms like those jewels. I wouldn’t put it past him to sell or destroy them, just to cut the last tie I have to my family.
I don’t know if I’ll even be allowed to ever see them again. My father, my mother, Elena—Elena.Tears well up in my eyes as I think about the possibility of never seeing my sister again. If I “behave,” if I’m a good wife, Diego might allow it. But the thought of being with him forever, of going to his bed, bearing him children, makes me feel as if I’d rather die. The idea of being a “good wife” to him, obedient and subservient, is sickening.
I can’t bear it.
I nearly tear the dress, trying to get it off, but I don’t care. It’s already ruined, just like my life, and I’ll never wear it again. I never want toseeit again. I leave it in a heap on the floor, even though I know that will likely piss Renata off because I can’t bring myself to care.
I’m torn between trying to comply with as much of Diego and his family’s demands as I can stomach in order to avoid the worst of what he might do to me and rebelling entirely, as much as I can. Rebellion was what got me here in the first place—but I don’t think complying will really stop Diego. Maybe the absolute worst of it, maybe some of his family’s wrath, but not enough to make it worthwhile.
I don’t think Diegowantsme submissive, not right now. He wants to punish me for what I’ve done, to break me. He’s counting on getting his pleasure from that since he can’t get it from taking my virginity against my will.
It doesn’t matter if I’m submissive or rebellious. He’s going to torture me one way or another. I might as well not make it easy for him.
I know I need to get as much sleep as possible, but I take a shower first. I want the feeling of his hands off of my body, and I leave the lights off, stepping into the glass-walled shower and turning the water on as hot as I can stand it. The soap smells like wildflowers, and I scrub myself with it again and again until I feel raw, washing my face bare and then sinking to the tile floor and bringing my knees to my chest as I press my forehead against them.
Everything has fallen apart. I’ve never felt so alone. I feel sostupidnow for being so proud of myself, for feeling so victorious that I’d pulled my reckless plan off. I didn’t just make a small mistake—I made adevastatingone.
One that will have consequences for the rest of my life.
I’d thought I could outsmart them all, but for all my bravado about holding the power in my father’s office, I know I’ve never been more powerless.
I should have followed the rules.I’d still be Diego’s, but maybe he would be treating me with some semblance of respect, the way a valuable bride and the future mother of his children should be, instead of—this. The only value I have for him now is as a vessel for his cruelty and any future sons I might be able to give him, so that he can ensure his brother’s son doesn’t inherit.
When the water starts to run cold, I peel myself off of the shower floor and dry off, biting my lip to hold back the tears. It feels even colder in the room with wet hair, but I don’t have the energy to try to do something with the fireplace, so instead, I just fumble around in the wardrobe for something to sleep in. I don’t want to turn on the lights, I want to stay in the dark, where it feels safer. Hidden.
I find a nightgown and pull it on, the soft cotton rubbing against my abraded skin from the tight dress and painful hands grabbing and pushing and shoving me all night. The bed is made up with a quilted comforter and woven blanket atop it, down pillows that at least feel soft, and I sink into it, grateful for at least some tiny comfort. I’m already grasping at straws, trying to find anything I can to make this more bearable.
I wish I could hide here, at least, but I know morning is going to come all too quickly. I close my eyes, but the bed smells all wrong, nothing like my pillows and sheets back home. I’m uncomfortably aware of how alone I am, locked in here with someone else holding the key.
Tears well in my eyes. I’m frustrated, terrified, angry, and exhausted, and I bury my face in my pillow, clutching it as I try to bite back a scream. I feel like a trapped animal, and the tears come faster, sobs wracking my body as I press myself deeper into the bed and try not to imagine home, try not to imagine Niall, try not to imagine anything I’ve lost.
