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I brush it off, physically. I shake my head and turn on the scalding-hot water of the sink to splash it on my face, enjoying the pain and letting it rattle through me, all the way down to my bones.
Emelia isn’t anything more than an arranged marriage, a device I obtained to use in her father’s demise, and a really good fuck. That’s all she will ever be.
Unless she becomes my fucking enemy.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EMELIA
I have never felt somuch fear in my life.
Why would he ask me that? I haven’t even tried to figure out the details my father demanded. This man has seen me so intimately, and yet he just showed me I am nothing to him in one glimpse.
I’m not falling in love, and I am no better than him, since I’m practically a spy planted in his life. But that look, the way his eyes blackened, the way he put my life in his hands just to show me that he has the power to keep it or end it, scared me more than knocking on death's door myself.
Being his wife only grants me immunity if I take his side and never betray him. But if I don’t betray him, that means going against my family. Yet again, I’m reminded I must decide who I would rather have kill me, my own father or the man I married.Either way, I’m dead. They both made that perfectly clear.
I don’t dare cry as I listen to the running water in the bathroom. If I do, it would show him my weakness and vulnerability, and the image I’ve portrayed as a strong, cold bitch in front of him is the only thing left to my name.
I was stripped of my rights, my future, my pride, and my fucking dignity. I won’t give up control of the most intimate parts of me that make me human.
I wipe at the tears and rush to my makeup bag to find my concealer and powder. The heat in my cheeks and the tears that fought me and lost have made me all blotchy. I pull my blonde hair back, slicking the front down and letting my curls fall loosely down my back. I cover my face with sunscreen, foundation, and concealer, trying not to do it too fast and with too much pressure, as that will only make my face redder.
Thank God I finish blending it just as he comes out. I put on some mascara and avoid eye contact with him. He moves around the space like a bull waiting to be let loose. He demands the room, takes control of it, and I do my best to not get in the way.
I slide my cut-off shorts and an oversized button-up on over a black two-piece swimsuit, slipping on my sandals. When he finally leaves the room, I release a deep breath.
I want nothing more than to dive headfirst off this boat and swim off into the damn horizon so I can escape this world, but instead, I just look in the mirror. My brown eyes are a lighter shade now that my tears have dissipated, and I say out loud, “This is your life. Born into it and will die in it. Only death will set you free, Emelia.”
With that, I spray on some perfume, grab my sunglasses, and head up to the deck. Nico is in a similar shirt to mine, a lightweight button-up, with darker jeans and some white casual shoes. Seeing him dressed down almost makes him seem like an everyday guy, but the second he turns and looks at me, I’m hit with the realization he is anything but a normal man. His black hair, light eyes, and James Dean look hits me, and I realize he is a god among men.
No, more like the devil.
He is untouchable, a walking daydream.
A casually dressed nightmare.
“Let’s go.” He’s sharp in his tone, and I nod. I’m tired of fighting the man, and quite frankly, I don’t dare try after what happened back there. He showed me how he could be when he caught me with Damian—merciful, but the tables turned on me fast, and he showed me that I can easily become a casualty in his wars.
My desire for him? Gone.
The wondering if we could make something of this? Gone.
Any bit of humanity I was starting to see in him and cling to? Gone.
He is once again just my captor. Sex was all we had, and now we won’t have that. I won’t let him touch me anymore. Not when I’m clearly not as safe as I thought I was in his hands.
God, who am I kidding?
I’m no freaking better. He was giving me himself, while I was preparing to betray him. We were both sleeping with the enemy.
I follow him to the boat, and I take the same spot I did when we took it here to the yacht yesterday. Expecting him to do the same, I'm shocked when he sits next to me. Purposefully, I keep my eyes on everything but him. Nico doesn’t talk for a minute or so, but then his hand possessively grabs my thigh. I freeze, and my back stiffens.
Leaning into me, his lips touch my ear.“Don’t try anything stupid, Emelia. I see that look in your eye. You fear me now, and if you try to run, I will find you. Anywhere you fucking go, I will hunt you down and bring you back.”
Swallowing, I nod. This side of him is different. He is eerily controlled, but there is a storm under there, and anyone who can contain that with such finesse and grace—those are the ones to fear. Those are the people who make up nightmares. They are the enemies you never want to have. Today showed me the tip of the iceberg of just how dangerous a man I’m in bed with.
I choose him.
