Ruthless Monarch

Stop.

Don’t go there.

You got lucky tonight, and if you keep standing here waiting, your luck might run out.

Not wanting to give him time to change his mind, I scurry into the room, flip the light switch on, and make quick work of shutting and locking the door.

No unwanted guests allowed.

Now alone and safe, I let myself admire the room.

It’s gorgeous.

Straight out of a magazine.

A large four-poster bed sits in the middle of the room. On top of it is the fluffiest pink comforter I have ever seen adorned with tiny little flowers. But it’s the giant pillow and shams that make me want to jump into it and sleep my life away.

Which is exactly what I plan to do.

With the wedding out of the way, I feel more relaxed. Now that I don’t have to worry about him spending the night, I’m able to strip down and get into bed. I’m not surprised by how tired I am. It’s been insane the past few days.

The problem is, now in my bed, my brain starts to scream at me.

Tomorrow.

What the hell will you do when you have to face your parents?

The scarier question is, how will my father react? He will see this as an act of war. Lines will be drawn in the sand. I have picked the side I’m on, but now the terrifying thought is, what if I chose wrong?

The endless fears of what he will say plague me, but eventually, they lead to exhaustion, my brain too tired to think anymore.

Before I know it, I’m opening my eyes, and the early morning sunlight streams in through the big window.

It illuminates the space and causes me to squint. I forgot to pull back the drapes last night. I’ll have to remember for the future.

With a stretch of my arms, I let out a large yawn. After enjoying the comfort of my new bed for a beat, I pull back the blankets and kick my legs out from under them.

When I step out and onto the floor, I regret it a second later. It is cold against my bare skin. My toes curl as if that will warm them, but it won’t. The only thing that will help is finding my socks or slippers.

I look around the room, trying to remember if I unpacked last night. I didn’t. There in the corner is my open suitcase, and on top of it is half my clothes. Wow, I made a mess last night looking for my pajamas. After walking over to my suitcase, I take a moment to look around. It’s the first time I’m able to really see anything. The room is much larger than I noticed last night. It’s also much more intricate than it appeared in the darkness of the night. The walls are white with ornate, detailed molding. There’s also a large chandelier over the bed. How did I not notice any of this yesterday?

You were tired, emotionally exhausted, and frightened of your husband. Cut yourself some slack.

This place looks like a hotel, not a residence.

Next, I walk over to the bathroom, again met with a sight I’m not prepared for. The room is large and like nothing I have ever seen. Yes, I have always lived a privileged life, but this is even over-the-top for me. Floor-to-ceiling marble. A beautiful cast-iron, claw-foot tub that beckons to me, but right now, I can’t indulge in that. Instead, I make my way over to the shower, and I swing the glass door open to turn the water on. I turn toward the sink and notice that toothbrushes, soap, and shampoo sit on the counter. Obviously, he was prepared.

I’m not sure how I feel about this fact. One the one hand, it was thoughtful, but on

the other . . .

He knew you were coming way before you realized. The thought makes chills run down my spine. I hate not having control over my life, and it feels like I'll never gain control, either.

The scalding hot water steams the room. I reach my hand in and make sure it’s not too warm. As much as I want out of this hell, I don’t want to boil myself alive to get my goal.

I step into the shower despite the temperature, and the heat feels good on my skin. I allow the water to rinse me clean. Clearing away the fog of sleep. Halfway through, I realize I don’t know what’s in store for me today.

My father is often predictable, but in this case, for all intents and purposes, we are ambushing him. This fact will make him a loose cannon. I can’t rely on how he’s acted in the past to gauge how he will react tonight.

My nerves start to bubble up.

This could be bad.

I’m playing with fire . . . and I know from the past how bad it feels to get burned.