Eternally His

The memory of his arousal drew a shudder from deep inside me. I wouldn’t give him a reason to touch me like that ever again. I wouldn’t give him the excuse to violate me.

But what about our wedding night? I bit my lip hard. I couldn’t think about that right now. I couldn’t contemplate what Sebastián would expect from me—what he might force me to do—as his wife, or I’d be sick.

I grabbed the e-reader and managed to carry the devices to him without dropping them from my shaking hands. He snatched them away, depriving me of access to the outside world.

“You’ll stay in your room until the…wedding.” He tripped over the word, as though he had to force it from his lips. “You’ll be under guard at all times until then. Any wedding planning that requires access to the internet or phone calls will be watched carefully. And you will plan a lavish event. Stefano ordered it. Don’t give him a reason to make this worse for us.”

“For us?” I hissed, unable to bite back my fury. “I’m the one who will be forced to spend my own money on condemning myself. Unless you’re planning on paying for this farce of a wedding?” I flung it at him like a challenge, finally allowing my heated gaze to clash with his.

He bared his teeth at me, a rabid beast. “You heard what Stefano said: a lavish wedding. You’re paying for this as part of the punishment. Stefano wants a public display of fealty, and this way everyone will know that the Vera fortune still serves the cartel. It’s his decision, not mine. But I will enforce it. You will plan this wedding, Isabel.”

I lifted my chin, ire giving me reckless strength. “And why is it my sole responsibility? You said it yourself. Supposedly, you’re being punished too.”

“Don’t turn this around on me,” he thundered, and I took a step back as the brunt of his anger slammed into me. “All I did was try to protect you, and I’m paying for my stupidity.”

Myriad emotions swirled within me, guilt warring with hatred. My eyes burned with the force of my self-loathing. Because Sebastián was right. He hadn’t done anything except try to protect me. And even though I didn’t understand why he was so disgusted at the prospect of marrying me, he didn’t deserve to be punished.

His dark eyes flashed, and he released a low growl before tearing his gaze from mine. “Do not try to leave this room,” he warned, turning on his heel. “You won’t like the consequences if you disobey me, Isabel.”

With that ominous statement, he slammed my bedroom door between us.

Disobey. The word echoed through my mind. I would have to obey him from now on. I’d have to honor and obey my husband. That would be the vow they would force from my soul.

I’d never contemplated a lifetime of happiness; I’d never had the luxury of thinking I would marry for love. But before Stefano’s terrible judgment, at least my marriage wouldn’t have been a cage. Now, I would never be free. I would never be independent.

I would always be his.

CHAPTER 7

ISABEL

I’d spent the last week utterly alone, abandoned by my so-called friends, everyone in my family dead. Guards had constantly hovered, but I didn’t consider them company; their presence only made me feel that much more isolated. I hadn’t seen or heard a word from Sebastián since the day Stefano had condemned us both. I’d have to face him for the first time when I walked down the aisle in mere minutes.

My hands shook, and I gripped my bouquet hard to prevent it from slipping free of my trembling fingers. The pale pink peonies were gorgeous and lush. If I could’ve had my way, I’d have chosen rotting roses to reflect the withering sickness I felt inside my soul.

But Sebastián had ordered me to obey Stefano’s edict, so I had planned a beautiful wedding, making the arrangements in record time thanks to my money and family name. In a way, planning the event had been a merciful distraction. It was bearable as long as I focused on the minutiae and didn’t think about precisely what I was planning: my forced marriage.

My stomach flipped, and I swallowed against the urge to throw up. I’d barely eaten in days because of the constant, anxious nausea that wouldn’t abate. Dizziness swept through me when the church doors opened, the closed vestibule like a dark cavern before me. Everyone would be waiting inside, the pews filled to bursting as they anticipated my humiliation. I’d been kept in the car until the last minute, my guard preventing me from doing anything stupid. Like running for my life.

I swayed beneath the weight of leaden dread that fell on my shoulders, unable to lift my feet to carry me up the three steps to the church. My hated guard—I’d never bothered to learn his name, and I barely looked at his face—gripped my elbow, urging me to walk meekly into my prison.