Chapter 4 - Darya
I am fuming. I can’t believe he just dragged me out of my own wedding reception like that. He didn’t give me any warning and he wasn’t even polite about it. I didn’t even say goodbye to my brothers, who arranged the entire thing. It feels so disrespectful. I am not a rude person, and I am not used to just leaving without saying thank you or goodbye. I huff loudly and shift the layers of my wedding dress around, trying to get comfortable with all of this fabric weighing me down.
This is one of the reasons we hired a driver, so that I could sit comfortably in the back of a limo and my dress wouldn’t be a bundled mess on my lap.
Why the hell did he want to rush out of there like that? What is he in such a hurry for, anyway? Was it that terribly boring for him to have to suffer through getting married to me? I guess he just wants to get home and be done with me now that the official part is over.
Or maybe, oh my word , does he want to get home and—
My stomach knots in tension.
I have been dreading this part.
Of course, he will want sex. I mean, even if he doesn’t love me, or even like me, he is a guy. He is going to want to have sex on his wedding night. I have been actively trying to avoid thinking about it, because it is a little too much to handle.
I haven’t told him yet that I am a virgin. I mean, it’s not something you just bring up randomly in conversation, and in reality, I haven’t even had a conversation with him. I don’t know him at all. He is basically a stranger to me.
So no, I didn’t just drop that bit of information randomly. Oh, by the way, I have never had sex before and won’t be sleeping with you on our wedding night, or any night, for that matter, because I don’t even particularly like you.
I bite my bottom lip and fidget anxiously with the silk and lace fabric of my dress.
I felt so beautiful in this dress. It is such a pity that such a gorgeous gown would be wasted on a fake marriage. This is the dress I would have dreamed of wearing when I married the man I loved. I wouldn’t be sitting here anxiously worried about trying to explain why I won’t be sleeping with him. I would be happy.
But that is another life. Not this one. It wasn’t meant to be for me.
The way that he handled our exit has left me with a bitter taste in my mouth and actually makes me like him even less. If that's possible.
If he thinks he is getting sex now, he is going to be in for a rude awakening.
I plan to set my boundaries right away, and, in fact, what better time to do it than right now.
“I assume you set up my own bedroom for me the way I requested?” I say curtly.
“You won’t be sleeping in your own bedroom, Darya. You will be sleeping in my bed. We are married,” he says coldly.
Shock runs through me. “You told me to tell you what I wanted and that you would have it set up for me. I asked for my own room,” I say angrily.
“And I did. I set up everything you requested except for your own bedroom.”
“Stefano, I am not sleeping in your bed,” I snap in horror.
“And why not?” he glances sideways, his amber eyes locking with mine in anger.
“Because—" I can’t possibly tell him I am a virgin. "Because—I want my own space. And yes, you have to respect that. I know we are married, but that doesn’t mean anything. I know it doesn’t mean anything to you, either. You can just carry on living your life and leave me to live mine. We don’t have to pretend anything when we are in the privacy of our own home.”
I shrug, as though what I am saying is obvious. I assumed this entire time that it was obvious.
I thought he would be happy to not have to deal with me on a daily basis if I had my own wing of the house and stayed out of his way. I don’t understand what the problem is.
“Do you honestly think I am going to just let you do whatever you want now that you are my wife? You will do what I tell you to do. Including sharing a bed with me.” His tone is edged and threatening.
“How dare you think you have the right to boss me around like that? You don’t even know me. You know nothing about me,” I say with heated anger that is growing darker by the second.
“You have no idea what I do and don’t know about you, Darya. Get off your high horse and stop acting like you are better than me. You are my wife now. As your husband, it is my responsibility to take care of you, and that includes controlling what you do.”
I can’t believe the audacity of this man. His arrogance is so much worse than I ever could have imagined.
He thinks he is going to control me. Why would he even care what I do? I am nothing but a tool to him. Perhaps it is his ego running wild here, assuming I am his property now.
“I am sure you have plenty of things to focus on in your business to not have to also worry about what I am doing,” I say bitterly.
He reaches out his hand and his fingers grip my thigh tightly. “You are my business, and I will be focused on you. Why can’t you understand this?” he growls darkly.
I push his hand off my leg instinctively and turn my body away from his.
His lips curl into an angry snarl and his fingers grip the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles look like they are glowing white. Why is he so angry?
My eyes flare open in shock. From everything I have heard about him, I know he has a temper, so maybe I should think about being more careful with how I handle him. I don’t want to be on the receiving end of his anger. I clench my teeth together to stop myself from saying anything more. I need to be more tactful. This is not a good start to our first night of living together. I can’t believe I thought it would just be easy, a casual arrangement of sharing a home and nothing more. I am coming to realize that nothing with him is going to be easy. He is so used to getting what he wants, when he wants it, that he thinks that extends to me as well.
He can get any girl he wants, he doesn’t need to add me to that list of acquired things.
I sigh loudly, showing my annoyance by folding my arms across my chest.
“Hey, look at me,” he demands.
I keep looking out the window.
“I said look at me, Darya. Don’t make me ask you twice.”
I throw him the most fiery and fierce look I can pull together.
“What?” I snap.
“I don’t know what definition you have of marriage or being husband and wife, but in mine, we share a bed, we share a home, and we share a life. I don’t want to hear another word from you about sleeping in your own room or living separately. Before we get home tonight, that idea is going to be cleared up in your head.”
He is speaking with such commanding force that I find myself just wanting to agree with him because of the authority in his voice.
To my horror, I can feel my body responding to it as well. I am getting turned on by him.
I gasp in shock at the realization that heat is building between my legs.
I feel my cheeks flush red with embarrassment as my skin begins to tingle.
This is horrible. Why would my body betray me like this?
“Do you understand me?” his voice is deep, but a little gentler.
I nod, not knowing what else to do. I am scared that if I keep talking, he will be able to tell that I am suddenly attracted to him. I feel as though my breathing has changed, and my posture has changed in response to this. I need to hide it.
A loud crashing sound snaps through the air and every muscle in my body tenses, making me instantly forget everything about being turned on. A scream erupts from my lips as bullets slam into the side of the car.
Stefano’s arm reaches out and holds me against my seat as the car begins to spin out of control. He grips the steering wheel as more bullets crack into the widow near my head. Thank fuck the glass is bulletproof—otherwise I wouldn’t even have had the time to notice them.
Our car comes to a shuddering stop against the pavement.
Wheels scream against the tarred road and Stefano reaches down to the side of his seat, pulling out his own gun. He cracks open his door and starts firing rounds at the other car, which clearly does not have bulletproof windows. The glass explodes, and I hear men screaming and yelling as their car starts to back away quickly, swerving and weaving along the road.
Stefano climbs out, standing in the road, and continues to fire after them as they retreat into the dark night.
He waits, standing firm with his gun gripped in his hand. His watchful eye is on everything around him.
When he is satisfied that they aren’t coming back for a second attempt, he gets back into the car.
I can hear my own breathing and nothing else.
My entire body is stiff with shock.
“Are you ok? Are you hurt?” he asks, brushing his hand over my body.
I don’t even move away from his touch.
“Are you hurt, Darya?” he says louder.
“Um…no…." My voice is shaking. My chest is tight, and it is making it hard to breathe.
He slams his door and starts the car again. It growls to life, and he pulls away with a screech of rubber on the road. I stare blankly out of the window in silence.
“Did they just shoot at us?” I know it is a stupid question, but my brain can’t seem to process what the hell is going on right now.
One minute, I am worried about marrying some idiot I don’t want to marry, and the next I am watching bullets slam into the window right next to my head.
“Yes.”
“Who was it?” I stammer.
He doesn’t answer me.
I don’t have the energy to push him for answers. I just want to get home, somewhere safe. I wish I could go directly to one of my brothers' places and stay there. I wouldn’t dare ask Stefano to take me there now, though.
He is obviously going to take me back to his place, and I am sure he has ample security there.
I try to focus on my breathing instead of the rising panic.
Except we don’t go back to his place; he drives past the turnoff that I know leads to his home, and he just keeps going.
“Stefano?” I say, my voice still unsteady. “I think you missed the turn.” Maybe he is too stressed to have noticed.
“We aren’t going there tonight. We are going to a safe house.” His reply is short and blunt. The anger is steaming off him like a thick cloud. I can feel it around him, as though I would feel static if I reached out to touch him now.
I kind of want to do that, just for reassurance that I am not alone and that I am still alive. He isn’t someone I would ever consider seeking comfort from, but right now there is literally no one else around.
I lift my hand, tentatively, and it hovers in the air. Then I quickly put it back down into my lap before he notices what I wanted to do.
The rest of the way I stay quiet, watching out of the window through the shattered spiderweb of glass, trying to focus on the darkness and nothing else.
I just want to get off the road. I am still terrified.
Finally, Stefano turns down a side road and pulls up outside a large house. He dials a code into his cellphone and the gate opens.
Lights come on at the front of the house and we park in the driveway while the gate slides closed behind us.
“Let’s get inside,” he says gruffly.
It takes me a while to pull my dress out of the car so that I can climb out, and Stefano stands there with his hand held out towards me to help me.
Reluctantly, I take it to steady myself beneath the layers of my wedding dress.
Then he stands there staring at the damage to his car.
He is muttering beneath his breath.
I shake my head. “It’s just a car,” I mumble.
He shoots me a glare. I quickly turn away from him and hurry towards the front door.
I don’t know how he can just stand outside in the open after what happened.
He follows behind me, then leans over me to pull the front door open.
I step inside and breathe a sigh of relief when the door closes behind us.
It’s good to be off the road, even though this is not where I imagined I would spend my first night away from home.
The safe house is modern and comfortable. I gather my wedding dress in my hands, lifting it up so that I can walk more easily.