Chapter 12
The house was draped in silence as I met Easton in the kitchen, the only sound coming from the faint hum of the refrigerator.
He reached out and took my hand, leading me outside into the warm night air.
The gardens were alive with the scent of blooming flowers, their fragrance wrapping around us as we walked.
“So, did you date much at Yale?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
“Not really,” Easton replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But there was someone special. What about you? Did you?”
I let out a sigh. “No. I barely had time for anything besides work and studying. Dating wasn’t exactly a priority.”
Easton squeezed my hand gently, his touch comforting. “You have to live a little.”
I forced a smile, trying to push away the guilt that threatened to surface. “Tell me about this girl you were seeing,” I said, eager to shift the focus away from my own regrets.
Easton glanced around, then pulled me toward the far end of the garden, where the shadows grew thicker. “Can you keep a secret?”
I raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Were you dating someone’s wife?”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, my mother’s best friend.”
My breath caught in my throat, and I stared at him in disbelief. “Susanna Belvedere? She’s only a few years younger than your father!”
“It just happened,” he said with a shrug. “We ran into each other at a bookstore in New Haven, of all places. We started talking about Mom over coffee, and... one thing led to another.”
“Easton, that’s... I mean, your mom’s best friend?”
He nodded, a flicker of sadness crossing his face. “It lasted most of my sophomore year. Then it just ended. I guess she realized I was too young for her.”
“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice softening.
“Yeah, I got over it,” he replied, though the wistfulness in his voice told a different story. “I haven’t dated since, but I’ve... you know, been with other women. But I really did love her.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, genuinely meaning it. The pain of losing someone you cared about wasn’t something easily forgotten.
He brushed it off with a nonchalant wave of his hand, but I could see the lingering hurt in his eyes. We continued walking until we reached the pool, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. Without warning, Easton scooped me up in his arms, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
“Easton, put me down!” I struggled, laughing despite myself.
He ignored my pleas and, with a playful leap, jumped into the pool, taking me with him. I surfaced, sputtering, as he swam away, laughing at my plight.
“Asshole!” I yelled, but there was no malice in my voice—only the thrill of feeling alive, truly alive, for the first time since I moved into the mansion.
His laughter echoed across the water, but it was abruptly cut short by a sharp voice. “Easton!”
We both turned to see Simone standing at the edge of the pool, her arms crossed and her expression severe. She looked different—tanned, her hair lighter from the sun, and her presence was anything but welcome.
“What?” Easton asked, his tone flat.
“Exactly what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto me, completely ignoring her brother.
“Swimming,” he replied, unbothered. “Mind your own business.”
Simone’s posture stiffened, her gaze cold. “I’m sure our father wouldn’t like you spending time with her.”
Easton swam to the edge of the pool, gripping the side as he glared up at her. “She has a name, Simone.”
“She doesn’t exist for me,” she sneered, her words dripping with disdain.
I clenched my jaw, refusing to let her get under my skin, and started swimming the length of the pool, using the movement to burn off the anger that simmered inside me.
I could hear their muffled voices as I completed a few laps, the tension between them palpable.
When I finally stopped, grabbing onto the side of the pool to catch my breath, I noticed Easton sitting on the diving board, his expression troubled.
“She really hates me,” I said, pulling myself out of the water to sit beside him.
“Simone’s a bully,” Easton muttered, his gaze fixed on the ground. “Ever since she got her trust fund, she’s been impossible.”
I wrung out my hair, the water dripping onto the patio below. “She’s never liked me. If it weren’t for Logan, my entire high school experience would have been a nightmare. At least I had some peace.”
“Don’t let her get to you,” Easton said, his voice low and serious. “My father won’t let her take advantage of you.”
There was something else he wanted to say, I could see it in the way his jaw tightened, but he held back, his eyes clouded with thoughts he kept to himself. I wanted to press him, to ask what was on his mind, but something in his demeanor told me to leave it alone, at least for now.
The two days Colson was away flew by in a blur of activity.
I threw myself into work, determined to distract my mind from the lingering tension.
When Wednesday morning rolled around, I felt refreshed after a rare, good night’s sleep.
It was a new day, and I was ready to tackle the mountain of emails that had been piling up.
I dove into my inbox with renewed focus, managing to fit six hours of work into just four. The satisfaction of crossing tasks off my list gave me a boost of confidence I hadn’t felt in a while. But by the time Velva and Luke, the sommelier, arrived, I was ready for a break.
Velva was relentless, drilling me on etiquette until it became second nature.
Then Luke took over, guiding me through the complexities of wine tasting.
His enthusiasm was contagious, and I found myself enjoying the process, even if I had to spit out every sample to keep from getting tipsy.
The more I learned, the more my confidence grew.
But on Thursday, just when I thought I had everything under control, Luke ended our session early. I was surprised but didn’t have time to question it before an esthetician arrived at the door, her expression professional yet unreadable.
“This is at Mr. Ashworth’s request,” she said, her tone leaving no room for debate.
My stomach tightened with a mix of dread and curiosity. I tried to keep my composure as she led me to the spa next to the gym, setting up her table and equipment. It was obvious she had been here before.
The process was clinical, but nothing could prepare me for the sharp sting as she began to wax me. The pain was intense, a searing burn that made me bite down on my lip to keep from crying out. I gripped the edge of the table, focusing on anything but the sensation as she worked.
When it was over, I felt a strange mix of embarrassment and something else—something unexpected. With all the hair gone between my legs, I felt vulnerable, exposed... but also oddly empowered. It was as if a layer had been stripped away, not just physically, but mentally too.
After the esthetician left, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror in my bathroom, my skin still tingling from the ordeal.
I looked different, not just on the outside but beneath the surface.
There was a newfound awareness in my eyes, a realization that Colson was exerting power over me in ways I hadn’t anticipated.
And yet, as much as I hated to admit it, there was a part of me that felt undeniably. .. sexy.
Colson was supposed to return tonight, and with Simone back in the house, I was relieved.
She was like a snake, always coiled and ready to strike, and I was tired of being her target.
As I dressed for dinner, a loud knock startled me.
My heart skipped a beat as I adjusted the hem of my dress and opened the door.
Colson stood there, impeccably dressed in a light gray suit, black tie, and a crisp white shirt.
His presence filled the doorway, exuding an aura of control that made my pulse quicken.
Before I could utter a word, he pulled me into his arms, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, "I heard you're making wonderful progress with your studies. "
His voice was smooth, almost like a caress. "Sunny said you dance beautifully, and her services are no longer required. I'm impressed, my bride."
Heat crept up my neck, the weight of his praise unsettling. "Thank you," I whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.
His smile was slow, deliberate. "I was also told you were waxed today."
Before I could react, he backed me into the room, closing the door with a soft click that echoed in the silence.
My breath hitched as he slid his hand up my leg, his touch searing on my flesh.
When his fingers brushed the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, I froze, every muscle in my body tensing in anticipation.
But just as quickly, he withdrew his hand, leaving me breathless and on edge.
"We’ll save the surprise for this evening," he murmured, his voice low and laced with something that made my stomach flip. "You’ll come to my room."
I nodded, my throat too tight to form words.
His hand moved to cup my face, his fingers gentle but firm as he tilted my chin up.
When his lips met mine, I closed my eyes, trying to steel myself against the pull of his charm.
It was impossible not to remember the way he’d hurt me in the limo just two days ago, the way his rage had seeped through every word and touch.
What would he do if he found out I’d spent the past couple of nights walking and swimming with Easton? The thought sent a shiver down my spine, fear mingling with the lingering warmth of his kiss. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down—not now, not ever.
Colson pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine as if trying to read the thoughts I kept hidden.
I forced a smile, hoping it was convincing enough to hide the turmoil inside me.
Would he hurt me again? The question hung between us, unspoken, as he released me and turned to leave the room, leaving me standing there, trembling and unsure of what the night would bring.
Dinner was a tightrope walk, every word and glance charged with unspoken tension.
The atmosphere grew even more strained when Vaughn arrived late, his presence immediately thickening the air with animosity.
His eyes locked onto mine as soon as he noticed Colson’s hand slip under the tablecloth, disappearing from view.
I forced my face into a neutral mask, but my body betrayed me.
The warmth of Colson’s hand on my knee, slowly inching up my thigh, sent a rush of heat through me.
My nipples hardened, and a wave of desire pooled low in my belly.
I reached for my water glass, desperate for something to cool the fire building inside me, but it was no use.
Colson’s hand retreated to slice a piece of chicken, leaving me on the edge, the damage already done.
My mind raced, searching for relief—anything to extinguish the throbbing need between my legs. But I knew Colson too well; he wouldn’t allow it. The release I craved would come only on his terms, and my fiancé seemed intent on prolonging my torment.
I pushed the food around my plate, focusing on keeping my breathing steady as Colson made small talk with his children. I felt Vaughn’s gaze burning into me, and when I glanced up, the intensity in his bright blue eyes nearly made me flinch. He looked as if he wanted to burn me alive.
“I noticed the pool was used last night,” Colson said.
Easton’s voice broke the silence. “Yes. Josephine and I were reliving our teenage years. It was fun. The water was perfect.”
I looked up just in time to catch the storm brewing in Vaughn’s expression.
His forehead creased, and his eyebrows knitted together in that familiar way.
He’d caught us a few times during those late-night swims in our youth, stumbling home from some party or date, his words cutting like knives.
Even now, those insults lingered, buried deep in my memory, leaving scars that never truly healed.
Colson grasped my hand, pulling me back into the moment. “She’s mine tonight,” he declared, his voice firm.
Simone’s chair scraped against the floor with a violent shove, nearly tipping over. “How long are you going to carry on this charade?” she screamed, her voice slicing through the room.
“Sit down, Simmy,” Colson ordered, his tone darkening.
“This is ridiculous! You can’t marry her. You look like a fucking old fool,” she spat, her words dripping with venom.
I clenched my jaw, glancing at Easton, who offered me a look of sympathy. Vaughn, on the other hand, seemed to relish the chaos, a smug grin tugging at his lips. I kept my mouth shut, willing myself to stay composed.
Colson let go of my hand and stood, his height imposing as he glared down at Simone. “If you don’t like my choice, that’s too bad. I don’t answer to you. Now get out of my sight,” he barked.
Simone stormed out of the room, her heels clicking furiously against the floor. I carefully folded my napkin, placing it next to my plate. “I’d like to go upstairs, please,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.
Colson leaned in, pressing a possessive kiss to my lips. “8 p.m.,” he commanded.
I nodded and quickly made my way out, hurrying up the stairs. The last thing I wanted was to run into Simone, still seething with rage. All I needed was an hour to myself before facing Colson again. Just one hour to breathe, to gather my strength before I was back under his control.