They still have life, and their fragrance has permeated this bedroom.
My mouth twitches as I stare at them. I walk closer to them, running my finger across one of the petals. I then pull one out and sniff it. It smells good. So good that it relaxes me.
Tucking the flower away, I walk to the closet and pull down an outfit. For a split second I realize I’m wondering where Draco is. When did he leave last night? Why didn’t he actually punish me?
I have to admit that even though he was there, I slept like a baby. He didn’t bother me again after forcing that orgasm out of me. I would remember.
He painted for some time. I dozed off after about an hour, when I realized he was actually leaving me alone.
I have to say…it was the best sleep I’ve had since being here.
In this bedroom, I sleep with one eye open. I make sure that when those footsteps go past my door, my guard is up and I am ready to pounce.
But last night, the man that lurks this very door was only a few feet away from me. He had no reason to sneak by. And I had nothing to fear other than another form of punishment.
No one else was going to intrude. He would have put a stop to it before it even happened…and something about that made me feel safe.
Fuck me. Safe while being held captive?
What kind of shit is that?
I think I’m becoming just as twisted as they are.
After my shower, I brush my hair and it collects around my heart-shaped face. The bruise on my forehead is darker, and the stitches above my lip are red around the edges.
I look battered.
There are still dark circles beneath my eyes and I can tell I’ve lost some weight but I feel…better. Hell, why couldn’t I lose these pounds before my wedding?
After last night, something has shifted, and I hate that I don’t feel as much weight as I once did.
I hate that I am starting to feel sheltered.
It shouldn’t be this way.
But he makes it so hard to see it otherwise.
Wicked bastard.
This is probably part of his plan. This is exactly what he wants.
For me to feel protected by him. For me to call on him when I feel threatened. For me to reach out to him when I need something, like a day at the beach or a fucking alarm clock just so I can make it to breakfast on time.
He wants me to need him.
He wants me to crave him.
He wants me to rest on my knees and give myself to him.
He wants me…all of me, or nothing at all.
This twisted game he’s playing confuses me. What in the hell does he see in me anyway? I am not the woman he should want.
I am the woman with a wrath he should be afraid of.
I waltz out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me, running a finger over my sore stitches. As I pick up my head, I spot a figure by the chocolate cosmos and I freeze.
The sunlight from the window across the room reveals her, and when she turns halfway, she grimaces. Francesca.
“Why the hell are you in my room?” I demand, scowling.
“You still call this your room,” she scoffs, turning in my direction and folding her arms. “This room you’re in is only temporary. You’ll be gone soon.”
My eyelids grow thin. “Get the fuck out of my room,” I growl.
She smirks. “You think you’re winning him over, don’t you?” I don’t speak. I don’t have to answer to her. When she takes a step closer, I take one back, squaring my shoulders. When she takes note of my hostile stance, she freezes, and then she laughs. “I can’t figure out why he let you sleep in there,” she mutters. “You’re no better looking than I am and I can give him so much more.”
“You’re afraid of him,” I bite out. “I’m not. That’s the difference.”
She looks me over. “You should be.”
“Well, I’m not. Now get the hell out of my room.”
Her irritating laughter fills the room and then she turns with her hands in the air. “I can’t wait to see how he breaks you too. You’re not afraid now, but trust me…that will change. You think you’re safe…but you have no fucking idea. Watch your back, bitch.”
She’s out of the bedroom before I know it, the door slamming behind her. I swallow thickly, focusing on the flowers. There is one that has been pulled out. It’s resting on top of the vanity and it’s petals have been plucked.
My eyebrows narrow as I rush forward and pick up the petals and then the stem, tossing it in the trash. But it’s when I return to the room that I see something.