Chapter 16
Slipping out of bed, I padded quietly into Colson's closet. My fingers trailed over the rows of expensive, tailored suits, each one a testament to his wealth and power. The fabric felt smooth and cool beneath my touch, so different from the worn clothes I'd grown up with.
"I shouldn't be doing this," I whispered to myself, even as I moved deeper into the closet.
My eyes fell on the island in the center, its drawers beckoning. Colson was such an enigma, and part of me yearned to understand him better. With a furtive glance over my shoulder, I began to open the drawers.
The first few held nothing of interest – just neatly folded ties and cufflinks. But as I reached the bottom drawer, my breath caught. There, tied with a red ribbon, lay a bundle of letters. I recognized the handwriting immediately: Poppy's.
My heart constricted as I lifted the bundle, feeling the weight of memories and unspoken emotions. Poppy had been everything I wasn't – sweet, nurturing, and born into this world of wealth and privilege. Of course Colson still missed her.
"I'll always be a poor substitute, won't I?" I murmured, carefully replacing the letters.
As I closed the drawer, a wave of melancholy washed over me. I remembered Poppy's kindness, her gentle smile. It didn't surprise me that Colson still held onto these mementos of her.
Stepping back from the island, I hugged myself tightly. The opulent closet suddenly felt cold and unwelcoming. I was an intruder here, in more ways than one.
As I sat on the bed, my mind raced. Colson was a hard man to know, and now I felt I understood him even less. What place could I possibly have in his life, with Poppy's ghost still lingering?
The sheets no longer felt warm and inviting. Instead, they seemed to whisper of secrets and a past I could never compete with. I gathered my clothing, silently heading down the hall dressed in Colson’s shirt and praying Simone or Vaughn wouldn’t encounter me.
I lay curled up on my bed, tears streaming down my face, when I heard the soft click of my bedroom door opening. Startled, I looked up to see Colson's silhouette in the doorway, his unexpected presence sending a jolt through me.
"Josephine?" His voice was low, tinged with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "I'm home. Why are you crying?"
I hastily wiped at my tears, embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable state. "It's nothing, I'm fine," I lied, my voice betraying me with a slight tremor.
Colson stepped into the room, his brow furrowed. Despite his usual hard demeanor, I could see a flicker of concern in his eyes. "Clearly, you're not fine. Tell me what happened."
I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. But his intense gaze broke through my defenses, and the words tumbled out. "Simone," I whispered. "We had a fight earlier, by the pool. It... it got physical."
I swallowed hard remembering how she approached me with her hand raised as I sat on a lounger enjoying the afternoon sun. She wouldn’t let it go and insisted I was trying to replace Poppy. I couldn’t do that. No one could replace her. I would be my own woman.
His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "Physical how?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
I swallowed hard, fresh tears threatening to fall. "She attacked me. I was just sitting there, and she came out of nowhere. She was screaming about how I'm trying to replace her mother, and then she just... lunged at me."
Colson's eyes flashed with anger. Without a word, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room. I could hear his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway, followed by the sound of a door being flung open.
A minute later, he returned, his face a storm of emotions. "Simone's not in her room," he growled.
Before I could respond, Colson moved swiftly to my bedside. In one fluid motion, he scooped me up into his arms, cradling me against his chest. The sudden proximity made my heart race, a confusing mix of fear and comfort washing over me.
"C-Colson?" I stammered, my hands instinctively gripping his shirt. "What are you doing?"
His eyes met mine, filled with a determination that sent a shiver down my spine. "I want you with me," he said simply.
As he carried me out of my room and down the hallway towards his bedroom, I couldn't help but wonder what this meant. Was this an act of protection, or something more? The warmth of his body against mine was both comforting and unsettling, a reminder of the complex dynamic between us.
"I won't let anyone hurt you again, Josephine," Colson murmured. “Not even my daughter.”
When we reached his bedroom, he placed my feet gently on the floor beside his bed, his hands firm yet careful as he pulled down the covers.
He nudged me back until I was seated, lifting my legs into the bed before folding the duvet over me.
The warmth of the bed was comforting, but my attention was fixed on him as he began to undress.
I watched, captivated, as he stripped away his clothes, revealing the powerful lines of his body.
Each movement was deliberate, almost ritualistic, until he was down to his boxers.
He gathered his clothing and disappeared into the closet, then the bathroom.
When he finally slipped in next to me, the fresh scent of mint lingered on his breath.
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a teasing edge. “Is that because you missed me?”
A small smile tugged at my lips as I sniffled, the fabric of his shirt soft against my skin. “I did, and it’s so soft.”
His response was swift—a hard, possessive kiss that took my breath away. His hand slid down the front of the shirt, fingers brushing lightly over my skin before cupping my breasts, one after the other. The heat of his touch was undeniable, but tonight, I couldn’t go there.
“Please, not tonight,” I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath.
He pulled back slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re denying me?”
I hesitated, unsure how to explain the whirlwind of emotions that had been storming inside me. “I’m just…”
Before I could finish, he pressed a soft peck to my lips. “I’m not a monster, Joey. I understand.”
Relief washed over me, but it was quickly followed by a pang of guilt.
I wanted to ask him about Poppy, to confront him with the questions that had been gnawing at me since I discovered the letters.
But fear held me back. If I brought them up, he’d know I had invaded his privacy.
The uncertainty hung between us, heavy and unspoken, as he settled beside me, his warmth enveloping me like a cocoon.
I turned on my side, trying to find comfort in the familiar scent of him, but my thoughts were a tangled mess. The urge to ask, to know more about the man lying next to me, was almost overpowering, yet I couldn’t bring myself to break the fragile peace we’d just found.
I wanted to know more about Poppy but to ask him would make him suspicious. I knew enough about her, but I wanted to know more because I had a feeling my marriage to Colson would be a competition with a ghost. I would never be able to match her grace and class.
“We have a date with the caterers tomorrow.”
As Colson and I sat down to discuss the wedding, I could feel a tension building inside me. The details had been planned to the last degree, a massive tent set to go up on the lawn, complete with air conditioning to combat the summer heat.
Colson had spared no expense, ensuring every guest would be comfortable, every moment perfectly orchestrated. Yet, as he described the arrangements, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was simply another piece in his perfectly curated picture.
“Everything will be set by the end of the week,” Colson said, his tone confident. “The tent, the flowers, the lighting—it’s all taken care of.”
“That sounds…nice,” I replied, trying to muster enthusiasm, but my voice betrayed me.
Colson noticed, his sharp eyes narrowing. “You don’t sound thrilled.”
I hesitated, unsure how to voice the frustration that had been simmering inside me. “I just…I feel like I haven’t had a say in any of this. Like I’m just another decoration in this wedding, something to be arranged and placed perfectly.”
He sat up, leaning his back against the headboard. “You think I haven’t involved you?”
“I wanted to be part of the planning, Colson,” I said, feeling a tremor of courage. “I wanted to make decisions, to choose things that mattered to me. But everything’s already been decided, and I’m just…here.”
His expression softened slightly, but his voice remained firm. “Joey, I’ve done this to make things easier for you. Planning a wedding is stressful, and I didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed.”
“But I wanted to be overwhelmed,” I shot back, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “I wanted to be involved, to feel like this is our wedding, not just something you’re organizing.”
Colson sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I understand that, but I also know how easily things could go wrong if we’re not careful. I wanted it to be perfect for you.”
“Perfect according to whose standards?” I asked, my voice softening as the weight of my own emotions began to settle. “Because right now, it feels like I’m just here to fit into your vision of what perfect is.”
He reached out, taking my hand in his. “You’re not just a decoration, Joey. You’re the reason I’m doing all of this. I wanted you to have the best, to not have to worry about anything.”
“I know you mean well,” I said, squeezing his hand. “But I need to feel like I’m part of this too. Like it’s my wedding, not just something happening around me.”
Colson looked at me for a long moment, his gaze searching mine. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll make sure you’re more involved. We’ll go over the details together. I want you to be happy with everything.”
His words eased some of the tension in my chest, but a small part of me still wondered if he truly understood what I was trying to say. I wanted to be more than just a bride; I wanted to be a partner, an equal in this union.
“Thank you,” I said, leaning in to kiss him softly. “That’s all I wanted.”
Colson’s hand tightened around mine, and for a brief moment, I felt like we were on the same page. But deep down, I knew there was still more we needed to discuss—more than just wedding plans.
I woke to Colson’s hand in my panties. He breached my opening with his fingers, sliding two inside me
“Colson, what are you doing?” I said sleepily.
“You were moaning in your sleep, and I took a chance. You’re soaked.”
I flushed with embarrassment. “I don’t know why,” I squeaked.
“I think you do. You said my name.”
He worked my clit with his thumb, and I gasped, undulating my hips.
“I can’t help what I dream about,” I panted.
Colson pushed the covers off us and slipped between my legs, yanking at my delicate panties until they tore. I recently purchased some lingerie and the panties he ripped were over five hundred dollars. He switched his thumb for his tongue, biting and nibbling my engorged flesh.
“Colson,” I moaned.
“I don’t want to wait for our wedding night. I want to fuck you now.”
I propped myself up on my elbows, my impending orgasm forgotten. “No. You promised.”
“Promises can be broken, Joey. Promises, often made with the best of intentions, are fragile things. Circumstances change, people evolve, and what once seemed unwavering can become uncertain. The breaking of a promise doesn’t always stem from malice; sometimes, it’s born from necessity or a shift in the heart’s compass. ”
I raised my eyebrows, a hint of defiance in my voice. “How long has that been in the holster?”
Colson's eyes narrowed, his expression darkening. “It’s true, Josephine. Promises are broken all the time. I’m sure your parents promised you a good life—one filled with love and a white picket fence at the end of the road.”
His words cut deep, and I clenched my jaw, trying to hold back the anger bubbling up inside me. “They did the best they could with what they had. Not everyone has endless financial resources. You can’t own people.” I ground out, my voice trembling with barely restrained fury.
In a flash, Colson was on top of me, his powerful legs straddling my hips. His hand shot out, squeezing my jaw with such force that pain radiated through my skull. His eyes blazed with a dangerous intensity as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my face.
“I chose you, Josephine. And my choice should make you feel special,” he growled, his voice low and menacing. “I could have any woman I wanted, but I chose you.”
Rage ignited within me, a fiery surge that pushed me to fight back. I shoved at his chest, but it was like trying to move a mountain. His body was solid, unyielding, and my efforts only fueled my frustration.
“I’m not who you want,” I spat, my voice dripping with venom. “You’re training me like I’m your fucking puppet.”
The fire in my veins urged me to push further, to show him that I wasn’t some pliable toy he could mold to his will.
My hand shot up, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking hard.
His head twisted at an odd angle, and for a brief, twisted moment, I felt a sick sense of satisfaction as I saw him wince.
But my victory was short-lived. Colson’s hand circled my wrist, his grip tightening with an iron-like strength that forced me to let go and yelp in pain. His eyes flickered with a sadistic pleasure as he slammed his body down on top of mine, pinning me beneath him, rendering me utterly helpless.
His mouth descended to my chest, and before I could react, his teeth sank into my breast through the thin fabric of my shirt. A howl of pain escaped my lips, and his low, dark laugh sent shivers of revulsion down my spine.
This was the man I was marrying. The man who was supposed to be my protector, my partner. Yet here he was, reveling in my pain, relishing in the power he held over me.
My breath came in ragged gasps as I stared up at Colson, my mind whirling with a storm of emotions. Fear, anger, confusion—all battled for dominance, but one feeling cut through them all: defiance. I wasn’t going to let him break me.
With every ounce of strength I had, I twisted my body beneath his, planting my hands on his chest and shoving as hard as I could.
He didn’t budge much, but it was enough to catch him off guard.
I saw the flash of surprise in his eyes before I used the moment to slide out from under him.
My heart pounded in my chest as I scrambled to my feet, my eyes locked onto his, daring him to stop me.
“Josephine,” he growled, but I was already halfway across the room, my bare feet slapping against the cold floor. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. All I could do was run.