Chapter 6
The drive back to Windmere Haven felt like returning to a different life, one that I wasn’t sure I belonged to anymore.
The two weeks on the yacht had been nothing short of a whirlwind, a complete contrast to that first night where Colson's dark side had terrified me. After that night, he’d changed.
It was as if he’d flipped a switch, becoming the husband I’d only dreamed he could be.
He treated me like gold, his touch no longer rough but filled with a tenderness that made my heart ache.
Our time in the bedroom was intoxicating, every encounter more adventurous and intense than the last. I’d felt desired, cherished even, in a way that made me question everything I thought I knew about him.
We toured cities across Europe—Paris, Rome, Venice—each stop more extravagant than the last.
Colson spared no expense, buying me anything I glanced at for more than a second. It was a fairytale, the kind you read about in books, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was lurking beneath the surface, waiting to shatter the illusion.
As we pulled up to the Windmere Haven Country Club, my stomach twisted into knots.
Tonight was our first night back, and Colson had insisted on dining at the club.
It was a tradition for newlyweds, he’d said.
But I knew it was more than that. It was a test, a display of our unity before the eyes of the town that had watched us from the beginning.
“Ready?” Colson asked, turning to me with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
I nodded, forcing a smile of my own. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
He reached over, taking my hand in his, and brought it to his lips. The gesture was sweet, almost comforting, but it did little to calm the anxiety roiling inside me.
The valet opened my door, and I stepped out, the cool evening air hitting my skin.
I adjusted the hem of my dress, a sleek black number Colson had picked out in Milan.
It was elegant, understated, the kind of dress that demanded attention without being too flashy.
I was thankful for that tonight. The last thing I wanted was to stand out.
As we walked up the grand steps of the club, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the eyes on us, watching, judging.
As usual, Colson’s hand rested possessively on the small of my back, guiding me through the entrance.
The club was as opulent as ever, the chandeliers casting a warm glow over the polished marble floors, the air filled with the murmur of polite conversation and the clinking of glasses.
We were greeted by the ma?tre d’, who led us to a table near the center of the dining room. I could feel the stares as we passed, the whispers that followed us like a shadow. Everyone was curious, wondering if the rumors were true, if the perfect couple had cracks in their facade.
Colson pulled out my chair, a gesture that felt more like a performance than genuine chivalry.
I sat down, trying to steady my breath as he took his seat across from me.
He reached across the table, taking my hand in again, his thumb brushing over my knuckles, stopping at the diamond encrusted wedding band.
“You look beautiful tonight, Josephine,” he said, his voice low and smooth. In private, I was Joey, but here in public he called me by my given name. It was all a show for the people of Windmere Haven, and I played along.
“Thank you,” I replied, my voice sounding too quiet in the bustling room.
The waiter appeared, handing us menus, but I barely glanced at mine. My appetite had disappeared the moment we’d walked through the doors.
“Are you all right?” Colson asked, his eyes searching mine.
I hesitated, not sure how to answer. I didn’t want to ruin the evening, but I also couldn’t pretend that I wasn’t on edge. “I’m just…nervous,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
He squeezed my hand, a reassuring gesture. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. You’re with me.”
But that was exactly why I was nervous. Being with Colson meant being part of his world, a world that was far more dangerous and complicated than I had ever imagined. And now, I was expected to play my role perfectly, to be the wife he needed me to be.
“I know,” I said, forcing another smile. “I’ll be fine.”
The waiter returned to take our order, and Colson ordered for both of us, his choices familiar after the past two weeks.
As he spoke, I couldn’t help but study him, trying to see past the charming facade he wore so well.
Was this the real Colson? Or was it just another mask, one that he would discard the moment it no longer served him?
“Josephine,” he said, pulling me from my thoughts. “Don’t overthink tonight. We’re just here to enjoy ourselves.”
I nodded, trying to believe him. But deep down, I knew tonight was more than just dinner. It was one where every gesture, every word, would be scrutinized. And I had to play my part, no matter how uneasy it made me feel.
As the first course arrived, I picked up my fork, forcing myself to take a bite.
The food was exquisite, but it tasted like dirt in my mouth.
I glanced around the room, meeting the curious gazes of the other diners.
They all wanted to see how the new Mrs. Ashworth was faring.
If I would measure up to the standards set by the women who had come before me.
“Josephine,” Colson’s voice cut through the noise, pulling my attention back to him. “Relax, I’m here.”
His words were meant to comfort, but they only served to remind me of the invisible chains that bound me to him. For better or worse, I was his. And tonight, I had to prove that I belonged in his world.
I dabbed at the corners of my mouth with my napkin, feeling the weight of the evening pressing down on me. My stomach churned, not from the food, but from the tension that seemed to thicken with every glance in our direction. “I need to use the restroom,” I murmured, reaching for my clutch.
Colson stood as I did, ever the gentleman in public. “Would you like me to go with you?”
I forced a tight smile, though the idea of him lurking outside the ladies' room sent a shiver down my spine. “I doubt they’d let you in.”
He chuckled softly, but his eyes held a seriousness that made my skin prickle. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I’ll be fine,” I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
As I made my way through the maze of tables, I could feel their eyes on me—each pair filled with curiosity, envy, or perhaps a mix of both.
The new Mrs. Ashworth, the woman who had somehow managed to secure the heart of Windmere Haven’s most eligible—and elusive—bachelor.
Though, I mused darkly, if they knew what truly lay beneath Colson’s polished exterior, they might not be so envious.
The marble bathroom was like the rest of the club - elegant, all polished stone and gilded mirrors.
I stepped inside, my heels clicking against the floor, only to find Melissa Hartley at the mirror, reapplying her lipstick with practiced precision.
The moment our eyes met in the reflection, she turned to face me, her expression bright and eager.
“Mrs. Ashworth, how was your honeymoon?” she asked, her tone laced with a sweetness that felt too thick to be genuine.
I raised an eyebrow, remembering how she’d treated me back in high school. I had been invisible then, just a freshman beneath her notice. Now, though, she was all smiles, as if the past had never happened. I could either rise above it or put her in her place.
“Josephine, please,” I corrected her, keeping my tone pleasant. “It was lovely, thank you.”
Her eyes lit up as if we were old friends, as if she hadn’t made my life hell years ago. “That’s wonderful! I’d like us to become friends, Josephine. I’m having a tea this Sunday, and I’d love for you to attend.”
I returned her smile, though inside I was wary. What game was she playing? Just three months ago, she’d barely acknowledged me at Colson’s charity event. Now, she was extending invitations? “I’ll have to check my schedule and let you know.”
Melissa’s smile widened, a little too genuinely for my taste. “Can I have your phone… to put my number in it?” she asked, her laugh tinged with nervousness.
I hesitated for a split second before matching her laugh, handing over my phone.
We exchanged numbers, and I couldn’t help but think that her tea might be the opportunity I needed to navigate my way through this society.
I could almost see the women there, vying for my attention, hoping to recruit me into their causes now that I wore the Ashworth name.
For the first time since all of this began, I felt a flicker of control, of power.
Melissa turned back to the mirror, and I slipped into one of the stalls. When I emerged, she was gone. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever lay ahead.
Colson was waiting just outside the bathroom, holding two glasses of white wine. He handed one to me, his expression curious. “What took you so long?”
I lowered my voice, not wanting to be overheard. “Melissa Hartley invited me to tea this Sunday.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Colson’s lips. “I’m glad you’re getting along with the other ladies.”
I took a sip of the wine, letting the cool liquid calm my nerves. “I think it’s more that they want to get close to the new Mrs. Ashworth, possibly for a donation to their charities or projects.”
Colson’s hand slid into mine, his grip warm and possessive. “Whatever the reason, enjoy it. We start work on Monday, and I want you to be well-rested and relaxed.”
“I am,” I replied, a hint of irony in my voice. “It was a lovely honeymoon after that first night on the yacht.”
His expression darkened, his brows drawing together in a frown. “Please don’t bring that up again. I feel guilty enough.”
I almost laughed at the absurdity of his words. Guilt? Did he even know what that felt like? But I swallowed the retort, knowing it would do no good to provoke him. “I won’t. I promise.”
Colson leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “I want to bury my face between your legs when we get home.”
My breath hitched, and I felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with the wine.
Despite everything, his touch still had a way of unraveling me.
Since that night on the yacht, he had been different—gentler, more attentive.
And though I wasn’t sure if I could ever fully trust him, I found myself drawn to this side of him, the side that made me feel desired and cherished.
As we made our way back to our table, the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation surrounded us.
I could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze, but it didn’t bother me as much now.
I had survived my first night back in Windmere Haven’s society as Mrs. Ashworth, and I was beginning to see that maybe—just maybe—I could survive whatever else lay ahead.
My husband reached across the table, his hand gripping mine, it was firm, a silent command to play my part. He was the master of this world, and I was the new addition everyone wanted to dissect.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of polite conversation and carefully curated smiles. The food was exquisite, but I barely tasted it. My thoughts kept drifting back to Colson’s earlier whisper, the promise of what awaited us at home.
It was a stark contrast to the Colson I had known before the honeymoon. He had transformed from the cold, calculating man who had frightened me that first night on the yacht into someone who seemed to genuinely care for my pleasure, if not my well-being.
But even as I relished the thought of his touch, a small voice in the back of my mind warned me not to let my guard down. This was Colson Ashworth, after all. He was a man who could change his demeanor as easily as changing a shirt, and I couldn’t afford to forget that.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Colson signaled for the check. We made our way to the car, his hand once again resting on the small of my back. The drive home was quiet, the tension from the evening slowly dissolving as we left the country club behind.
As we pulled into the driveway of our estate, Colson turned to me, his eyes dark with intent. “I meant what I said earlier, Joey.”
A shiver ran down my spine, anticipation and anxiety intertwining. “I know.”
We didn’t say another word as we entered the house, Colson guiding me up the stairs, through the darkened hallways, and into our bedroom. The moment the door closed behind us, he was on me, his hands sliding down my back, pulling me close.
“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he murmured against my neck, his lips brushing my skin.
His touch was possessive, but not harsh.
It was as if he was reminding me who I belonged to, yet there was a tenderness there that made my heart race for an entirely different reason.
His hands slid down to the zipper of my dress, and he slowly pulled it down, the fabric slipping off my shoulders and pooling at my feet.
“I want to take my time with you,” Colson said, his voice husky. “To make you forget everything else.”
And for a moment, I let myself believe him. I let myself get lost in the fantasy that maybe, just maybe, this was real. That he could be the man I needed him to be. The man who could love me, not just own me.
But even as his hands and lips worked their magic, a small part of me remained tense. I only let it drain away as my orgasm unraveled me and took all rational thought from my head. Yes, I was learning to play the game and I would win.