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“You’re sleeping naked,” he calls back.
Bastard.
I bite my tongue as I cross the floor and enter a room that’s almost an exact replica of mine. The sight that greets me steals my breath. Candles are burning on every surface, and rose petals are strewn over the bed. I guess Heidi is responsible for the effort. She must’ve assumed we’d consummate the marriage in his bedroom.
The romantic setting doesn’t faze him. He grips the comforter and shakes off the petals, making them sift down over the floor.
“Blow out the candles,” he instructs. “We don’t want the house to burn down.”
Swallowing a retort, I go around the room and blow them all out. The sharp smell of smoke and wax hangs in the air when I’m done.
Angelo lifts the covers and gets into bed. I hover for a moment, starting to feel cold. When I make my way to the other side of the bed, he says, “No.”
I stop. “What?”
He points at the floor next to his side of the bed. “Here.”
My mouth drops open. “You’re joking.”
“I’m afraid not,cara. That’s what you chose, and that’s what you’ll get until you learn to beg.”
Fuck him.
I’m spinning on my heel when his words stop me.
“Don’t make me tie you up and dish out another punishment. You’re keeping both of us from our sleep.”
Angry tears burn at the back of my eyes. He doesn’t only want to punish me for my family’s sins. He wants to break me. Well, good luck to him. I refuse to break. Not for him.
Lifting my chin, I go over to the side of the bed and lie down.
“That’s a good girl,” he says, reaching over and switching off the lamp on the nightstand. Darkness folds around us. “Sleep well,bella.”
I suppress an urge to punch him. In the dark, tears of humiliation and helpless anger finally run over my cheeks. The rug is scratchy, the wool scraping my skin. The flagstones under the rug are hard and uneven, the edges digging into my hip and shoulder. I use my arm as a pillow, but it’s difficult to get comfortable.
It’s colder on the floor. Soon, I’m shivering. The lesson isn’t lost on me. The price for a shower and sleeping in a warm, soft bed is humiliating myself over and over, night after night, on my knees. I don’t know if I can do it. My pride won’t let me, but how long will my pride last? How many skipped showers and nights on the floor will it take before my pride bends and I give in?
When I start itching from the wool, I turn on my other side to scratch the irritated skin. Angelo’s slow, even breathing only rubs salt in my wound. He’s sleeping cozily in his bed while making me suffer. There’s no way I’ll last the whole night like this.
Getting up quietly, I tiptoe back to my room. Afraid to make noise, I leave the door open. I don’t want to switch on a light and risk waking him, so I feel around on the floor until I find his discarded clothes. My fingers brush over his shirt. I pull it on and button it up. A smell of cedar and citrus wraps around me, reminding me of the man I fell in love with. He’s like Jekyll and Hyde. I’m never sure which one I’ll get. I have a feeling that here, in the environment where he lost his family, he’s not going to be the kinder Angelo often. The memories are too raw. There are too many reminders in his home.
I don’t want to wear his clothes, but I haven’t unpacked my suitcase, and I don’t want to run into anyone while stalking naked through the house. There were guards when we arrived. For all I know, they’re patrolling inside at night.
The big bed in my room is tempting, but I don’t want to give Angelo a reason for punishing me if I can avoid it. The last two punishments are still too fresh in my mind. I’ll have a hot drink to warm up, and then I’ll find a sofa where I can make myself comfortable. If I’m lucky, I may even locate a blanket.
My bare feet are quiet on the cold floor. Moonlight sifts through the big windows, painting black shadows in the corners as I go downstairs. It’s eerily quiet. No guards are moving about. The hallway to the kitchen is lit with dim floor lights. Heidi must’ve clocked off for the night because the kitchen is dark.
I feel for a light switch on the wall and flip it on. A single bulb flickers to life over the island counter. The kitchen is fitted with modern appliances, but with baskets of dried herbs and fresh ones growing in pots on the windowsill, it has a rustic feel.
After putting water on to boil, I go through the cupboards until I find a mug and jars of tea leaves. Choosing chamomile, I brew an infusion and stand by the window while sipping the drink. Beyond the vegetable garden, the moonlit vineyard is visible. If the property is as big as Heidi said, I’m effectively a prisoner here.
The herbal tea quickly warms me inside. My muscles are sore, and my skin is itchy from the wool carpet and Angelo’s dried seed on my thighs, but I try not to think about it. Maybe I can quickly rinse down while he’s sleeping. I’m yet to come up with a plan to avoid begging for basic living necessities, but I don’t think about that either. I’m too tired.
I carry the mug upstairs, heading back to my room. On the landing, I stop. It wasn’t my plan to go there, but my feet carry me left instead of right. I tread carefully, like a trespasser, driven forward by curiosity and a strange, invisible pull.
The hallway is dark except for a sliver of light that falls from a door that’s open a crack. The decision to go there isn’t conscious, but I find myself in front of it, pushing a palm on the heavy wood.
The door swings open soundlessly. The light comes from a desk lamp with a stained-glass lampshade. The room is fitted with bookshelves and a writing desk. A sewing machine stands on a large table. A cozy sitting area with a well-worn sofa and armchair faces the window. On a rail pushed against the wall hangs the wedding dress.
