Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter 31
SIENNA
I STAND IN FRONT OF my dresser, gripping the expensive mahogany. The marriage document sits on top, one edge crinkled. Anthony didn’t waste time getting it.
But I’ve been wasting time and not signing it.
Once I do, once this document gets filed, I’ll be Anthony’s wife. The weight of that fact has been pressing down on me, suffocating me. I have to do it to protect Declan, and it’ll help me get Anthony to trust me someday and let down his guard…but this is permanent. Whatever happens, he’ll be a fixed smudge on my life. There will be an official record of us together. He won’t just be an ex, he’ll be an ex-husband.
The only true escape is death.
I turn away from the dresser. I need another break from this room, and some heavy emotional eating. Thankfully, Victor left a few days ago, so I won’t be seeing that terrifying face again.
I open my bedroom door and the guard in the hallway escorts me to the kitchen. Cold seeps into my feet from the tile as I rummage through the pantry. Soon, my arms are overflowing with bags of chips, cookies, and a box of Twinkies.
I’m about to leave the kitchen when a burst of laughter from the outside terrace catches my attention. I glance out the kitchen window and my heart plummets.
There, on the terrace, is Sean, smiling and chatting with Anthony’s men like they’re old buddies.
Well, at least now I know he was the bribed bodyguard. I was really hoping it was the other guy, because I kind of liked Sean.
My guard is ready to escort me back to my room through the house, but I move out the terrace door too fast for him to stop me. The men outside all pause to look my way. Sean gives me a cool glance.
I tip my chin at him, spit out the word, “Asshole,” then throw the box of Twinkies at his head.
He catches it, one-handed, with a cocky smirk. He says something too low for me to hear, and the guys around him crack up.
“Alright, come on,” my guard says, touching my arm lightly to guide me down the outside stairs that lead to the second floor.
Once I’m back in my room, I slam the door and shove a cookie into my mouth. The chocolate isn’t doing its job to make me feel better, so I shove another one in, almost choking. Finally, I flop on the bed.
No one can be trusted, can they?
Sean was supposed to be Declan’s bodyguard, yet Anthony bought him off, no problem.
Everyone is like that, just waiting to stab you in the back. Hurt you. Throw you in the trash.
I grip my locket. Well, not Grandpa. And not Jada.
Or Declan.
My heart knows that. I don’t care what Anthony says about him doing his own twisted shit because I’ve done much worse. If I don’t believe that at least a few people in the world have good intentions, is there a point to living?
I have to believe that Declan always had good intentions.
I let out a groan, which might be a half-sob since my insides are crumbling, and shove one more cookie into my stupid face. Then I grab my sketchbook and start drawing butterflies in a cheery meadow.
A few hours pass, and I’m lost in a haze of half-hearted attempts at sketching when there’s a knock at my door. Anthony walks in before I can tell him to enter, like always.
He looks dressed to kill, literally. His gray suit probably has a lot of weapons hidden underneath. “Hey, Magpie,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Need anything?”
“No, thanks,” I respond, not looking at him and focusing instead on the mushroom I’m drawing. I’m giving it evil, beady eyes.
He saunters over to the dresser and glances at the license. “Come here.”
My heart lurches, but I close my sketchbook and walk across the room. Resisting won’t help anything right now.
He pulls out a pen and offers it to me. “Thought you decided to be a good girl. If you’re going back on your word, maybe I’ll—”
I snatch the pen, hovering it over the flimsy paper that has the power to completely change someone’s life. I stare at him until he peaks an eyebrow.
“Promise you’ll leave Declan alone,” I say. “Whatever you’re planning, just stop all of it.”
He growls, his fingernails scraping over the dresser top as he slowly makes a fist. “You’re about to become my wife, yet you’re still—”
“Your wife,” I echo, dropping the pen so I can spread my palms over his chest. After all, Anthony is the one who taught Margaret how to manipulate people. It’s a skill I need to perfect again. My body softens into him. “I’ll be your wife, not his. He’s in the past, so I don’t want to think about him anymore. We can let it go. Move on.” I caress his cheek, reminding myself it’s for a purpose. “I want it all to be forgotten so we can focus on us.” My thumb trails his bottom lip. “Don’t you want it to be just us?”
His hungry eyes almost make me shove him away. But I stand firm. This is for a purpose.
His fist relaxes, and he glances at the marriage license. “This fucking weak spot for you…fine. I won’t do anything unless he provokes me.”
“Provokes you? What—”
“Just a saying. I gave you my word, now will you sign the goddamn paper?”
I grab the pen and sign ‘Sienna Bishop.’
I drop the pen like it’s burning me.
Done.
There’s no going back now.
A wide grin splits his sharp features. “Damn, you’re really my wife.”
He sweeps me into a strong embrace and nips my earlobe. He’s already hard, pressing it against me. I try not to let my internal grimace show.
“Feels so good to call you Mrs. Russo,” he whispers.
I want to gag but manage to stop myself. No matter what he calls me, in my heart I’m Mrs. Conte.
Mrs. Declan Conte.
Sienna Conte.
Has a wonderful sound to it.
Thinking of that, I’m able to smile at Anthony, so he smiles back, his dark eyes actually reflecting light. But my smile was a mistake, because the next second he kisses me.
It’ll be suspicious if I pull away, so I let him, making myself numb, counting the seconds until he stops, then I move out of his embrace as much as he’ll let me and hug myself.
“You sure you’re good?” he asks, glancing at my easel by the open window. “Don’t need anything?”
“I’m good for now.”
He rests his hands on my hips, his fingers caressing the skin above my leggings’ waistband. “Well, baby, I’m heading out for work. Just wanted to say goodbye. It’s a big job for Victor, so I’ll be gone a few weeks. Don’t miss me too much.” He kisses my cheek while lowering his hands to grab my ass. He tips his chin at the dresser. “Just leave that there. I don’t have time to file it now, but I will as soon as I get back. Then we’ll go ring shopping.” Snaking his hand between my shoulder blades, he wraps my hair around his fist, yanking so my head snaps back. He licks up the middle of my throat, the most vulnerable part. “Sound good, Mrs. Russo?”
“Yes,” I whisper, wincing at the sharp sting in my scalp.
He releases my hair. “I’m happy to see you’re settling in, baby. I’ll miss you, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Promise.” He kisses me again before leaving.
Once the door closes, I wipe my mouth, then my hand shoots to the dresser. I feel like collapsing. But I won’t. I’ll force myself to keep standing.
I’ve finally thought of the right quote to get me through this, one by Roosevelt: “Don’t foul, don’t flinch—hit the line hard.”
Declan is safe, so now I just need to figure out the right opportunity to save myself.
When I do, I won’t flinch.
I wait an hour and then have my guard take me to the kitchen again, grabbing the dinner Anthony left for me in the fridge. I’m not hungry. I just want to scope out the situation. The house is completely empty, save for my single guard.
I glance at him. He’s a giant, close to seven feet and built like a horse, so I’m guessing Anthony doesn’t expect me to fight him for my freedom. It’s clear I would lose, but Anthony’s not worried I might try to mind fuck him? Sneak off when the guy takes a nap?
That’s right…what about sleep? This guy has to sleep eventually, so who will watch me then?
I think signing that paper helped Anthony trust me a little, but not enough to leave me so unguarded. It’s odd that Anthony only left one guy. Is this some strange test?
I decide to ignore it. Anthony probably has guards keeping watch outside, and someone will probably come by to relieve this one. Knowing Anthony, he has some kind of safeguard to make sure I don’t escape. Simply running from him again isn’t my plan, anyway. I’m just happy to have some space; maybe I can actually watch TV in the living room.
And, with Anthony gone, I don’t have to worry about him entering my room at random times.
After I return to my bedroom and set the dinner plate down, I pull out my sketches of Declan, spreading them around the room. I have about fifty of them so far, so I scatter them everywhere I can. His smile, his eyes, the way he looked at me like I was precious…every place I glance now, that’s what I see.
I trace my finger over one of the drawings, a lump forming in my throat. Whatever he’s up to now, I just want him to find happiness. I hope he pushed me from his memories and is moving on. I’ll never move on from him, from us, but he needs to. He needs to find a wonderful woman who will treat him with all the love and respect in the world. He deserves so much.
Blinking back tears, I flick on the TV, surrounded by images of my lost love.