Real Girl (Aston Creek High 4)

After ten grueling minutes, I finally get out of this ridiculous dress and peel off the white lacy lingerie Maria had forced me into this morning.

As much as I shouldn’t be getting naked in here, I can’t resist the promise of how a good shower would make me feel. I don’t want to admit it, but I bet Marcus has the best showers in the country. He’d have the best products, the best towels, the best…the best everything. I wonder how he’s going to feel when he realizes that he has a less than perfect wife who won’t conform to what he wants. Damn, that’s going to play out like a little TV mini-series.

I stand under the shower for apparently way too long as Marcus’ fist slams into the door. “Hurry up,” he roars through the door. I turn the tap on full blast, hoping the sound of the water crashing against my scalp can somewhat dull the sound of him outside my door.

When my hands are thoroughly pruney, I reluctantly get out. I’m only delaying the inevitable. I have to get this over and done with. I have to be strong.

I can do this.

I dry myself up and run the towel through my dripping hair. Screw him and his rules. It’s close to 4 am. I sure as hell won’t be blow drying my hair and spritzing some weird perfume over my body. I’d rather make a run for it, steal someone’s phone and call Slade with the address to come and pick me up.

I wonder what happened to him and Shay after they were kicked out of the ceremony. There were too many witnesses for something tragic to happen. Hopefully, they were just thrown out and left to leave peacefully.

I couldn’t honestly believe that, could I? I should do myself a favor and try to remember who these people are.

Wanting to know what I’m really up against, I pull the robe on and tie it with a double knot. I scramble through the mess of material left on the floor and pull out the knife. I consider strapping it to my leg like Luce had it but I need easy access and decide on keeping it in the palm of my hand.

I hesitantly open the door and peer out. The hallway is clear and I let out a shaky breath. Maybe I can make a run for it after all.

I step out into the hallway and get three steps before Marcus is at my back. He grabs my arm and starts pulling me toward a closed door. “Too long,” he growls, clearly pissed off with my antics.

The door is thrown open and I’m pulled into a big, modern room that has a floor to ceiling window which overlooks the front of the property. Marcus’ fingers bite into my arms, stinging with each forceful tug. He keeps his gaze forward and I’m lucky as one look down would have his eyes on my knife, and I’m not ready to give that one up yet.

“You will learn that I’m not one for games, Skylah,” he spits. “When I give you ten minutes to shower, I mean ten minutes. I’m a man of my word.”

I roll my eyes. I’ve heard that bullshit before.

He continues to tug me toward his massive bed. “I was willing to take my time and make this a little exciting, but now I’m tired. It’s going to be a quick and hard fuck that you’ll be sorry for in the morning.”

Shit.

Marcus pulls me in and grabs my shoulders, turning us so I feel the bed at the back of my knees. My heart races in my chest. I can’t do this again. I won’t have another entitled, arrogant asshole take advantage of me. I’m better than this. I may technically be his wife, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to play wifey.

This shit ends here.

My blade flicks out and within a blink of an eye, it’s pushed up against his throat. Marcus’ eyes go wide as he rears back, trying to pull away from my sharp blade. “Get your filthy hands off me,” I demand, watching his jaw clench in anger.

“Put the knife down,” he spits, standing as still as a statue and making me grin. When it was Slade against the tip of my knife, he didn’t back down. He stood tall and proud, where this little bitch is desperate to move away, proving just how cowardly he is.

I repeat myself. “Get your dirty as fuck hands off me.”

“Or what?” he laughs. “You wouldn’t do it. You’ve had four years to fight back and you’ve never even tried, and you know why? Because you love it.”

I raise a brow, letting him see the wicked torture in my eyes that the last four years have caused me. “You don’t think I’ll do it?” I question. “Think again.”