Chapter 21 Noah
NOAH
I don’t have a clue if my disappearance from the reception was noticed and don’t care. Huffing out a disturbed chuckle, the door opens to the honeymoon suite. It’s lavish. Beautiful. And makes me completely sick to my stomach.
Bypassing plush couches, I head into the bedroom where an ornate mirror taunts me from the far side of the room. My picture-perfect reflection stares woodenly back at me. I’ve become something unimaginable. A liar. A deceiver. A coward.
The lace skirt of my gown scratches under my palm, and I itch to rip it from my body. My skin crawls. This dress belongs in the trash, just like this pathetic excuse for a marriage.
In front of my parents, Sage, Grandma Jo—people who are important to me—I lied.
The devastation on Rhett’s face as I walked down the aisle is something I’ll never forgive myself for.
When we locked eyes, the world altered. For a split second, the contract I signed, my career, all of it could have burned down around me.
Words didn’t need to be spoken. Pleas radiated from the man I know so well.
There was a promise in his chocolate gaze—a sacred oath that if I chose him, I’d never regret it.
The temptation was right there to ask him to run away with me. To save me.
I wouldn’t have cared if everything else was lost because I knew I’d have him. And that would be enough.
But then, fear crept in and reminded me Bradley is not a man who would take disgrace lightly.
Inviting Rhett to the ceremony was a power move to unnerve me.
And if my new husband is sadistic enough to lure Rhett here to watch this shit show, who’s to say he wouldn’t use him as punishment if I didn’t comply.
Doing what was best for both me and Rhett, I promised to love a man who is a narcissistic abuser—all in the name of saving my career and the only man who’s ever held my heart.
Here lies Noah Lane, buried beneath the wreckage of the choices she’s made.
Rhett’s final goodbye was a bitter pill to swallow. He knows me better than anyone and had taken one fucking look into my eyes and saw right through the bullshit. He knew I was hiding something and didn’t hold back letting me know how he felt about it.
Willing back the devastation that threatens to run down my cheeks, I squeeze my eyes shut. Out of nowhere, my stomach pitches violently. I race for the en suite bathroom, crashing to my knees before the porcelain god. The self-loathing that has blackened my insides ejects itself.
Lost in my distress, I don’t realize my husband has darkened the doorway until his footsteps echo on the marble floor behind me.
“Well, if it isn’t my beautiful bride.” His harsh voice licks over my skin, and I freeze in place, breath gasping from me as I stare down into the abyss and try to blink away my tears.
He snickers. “Come now, Noah. Time for you to show me how sorry you are for inviting your lover to our wedding.”
“You know I didn’t, you bastard.” My brow crashes as I fight back another wave of nausea.
“Did you get off on that?” I drag in several ragged breaths, hoping he’ll leave me be.
The remaining contents of my stomach purge into the bowl.
Shooing him away, I groan. “Fuck off, Bradley. You’ve done enough damage. ”
His chuckle reminds me of a deranged villain, dripping with the kind of venom that causes unease to ripple up my spine. “Don’t be so pathetic, Noah. It’s not a good look.”
I jolt as a few raps sound on the exterior door of the suite.
“Now, clean yourself up, our guests have arrived.”
Shock slams into me as he vacates the bathroom to open the suite door.
Whoever it is, he’s inviting them in. What in the ever-loving fuck is going on?
He said he was going to make me pay. I’ve been down this road before.
When will I learn my lesson? Complacency is the key to get out of this marriage intact.
He came here with some sort of intent and apparently invited an audience.
What does he have planned for me? My stomach lurches again, bile coats my tongue.
The muscles contract angrily as I expel what little is left.
From the next room, Bradley’s command forces a grimace from me.
After wiping my face with a tissue, I flush my disgust away and push to my feet.
Whoa, Noah. Must have stood up too quickly.
Everything in my peripheral vision gets dark, fuzzy, and distorted.
Turning, I clutch the door frame for support and draw in a breath.
It doesn’t stop the sensation that I could pass out at any second.
Closing my eyes, on an exhale, I finally feel stable enough to cross the bedroom, following the voices of the men who are talking and laughing as if they’re about to party it up right here.
Marcus, one of the groomsmen, arches his brow as he gives me a slow perusal. “There she is. What’s wrong, honey? You not feeling so good?”
“Looks like she could use another drink.” The other groomsmen, Paulie, wets his lips, shooting me a smile that slithers across my skin.
“Agreed. The dress is something else, by the way.” Marcus’s astute eyes flick to Bradley. “Did you pick out the lingerie, too?”
My husband simply shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I watch all of them warily. Who the fuck do these assholes think they are? They’ve been friends with Bradley for years, but we definitely don’t know each other well enough for either of them to make comments about my undergarments.
Bradley chuckles. “Only the best for my girl, you know?”
“For sure. But I bet whatever is hiding under that dress looks better on the floor,” Paulie agrees with a wolfish smile.
My already upset stomach coils into a knot, revolting, and my brows crash together as the pair—at Bradley’s insistence—venture farther into the room, heading for the couches in front of the fireplace. They find the remote like they’ll be staying awhile and flick it on.
An uncomfortable flush creeps over my skin, making it feel as if my dress is suffocating me. I pull at the neckline, needing the space for air to fill my lungs. It doesn’t help, and I sway on my feet.
“Maybe you should sit down and relax.” Marcus nods as he pats the space next to him. Glancing around at our accommodations, he winks at me. “It’s cozy with a fire lit, don’t you think?”
Instead of moving toward him, I inch toward the door.
My internal alarm bells blare in warning.
My jaw tightens. Noah, you need to get the fuck out of this room and fast. Something isn’t right.
Scanning the area, I search for my clutch but come up empty.
Shit. It must be in the bathroom with my phone.
Think, Noah. Think. I squeeze my eyes shut. Why can’t I focus?
In desperation, I rack my mind for any excuse to leave the suite. Their laughter or smiles don’t fool me. Panic rises. Something within screams at me to run. I’m beyond uncomfortable in the presence of these men, including my husband.
As I stand here, internally freaking out, Bradley plays the jovial bartender for his longtime friends.
Ice clinks in glasses as he boasts about the amenities of our honeymoon suite.
Typical Bradley, all of it. But beneath the smooth polish, there’s a hint of something else in his tone, in his gaze …
and it’s got anxiety spiking sharply in my blood.
One foot in front of the other, I close the distance to the door. A wave of dizziness overcomes me as I fight to keep my balance. Before my fingers can grasp the handle, my knees buckle.
Pop! The loud noise nearly makes me leap from my skin, and my head whips toward where Bradley accepts a glass of champagne from Paulie. He holds it up as if he’s toasting, and with a coaxing wink he narrows the gap between us. “Come on, wife. Be a good girl and sit.”
Brow arching insistently, his fingers wrap around my bicep.
He leads the way to the couch where Marcus and Paulie are seated and pushes me into the open space between them.
My body complies against my will, limbs boneless as he forces a crystal flute of bubbly into my hand.
What the hell is happening? I can’t make sense of this loss of control.
He drops to his haunches in front of me and takes a sip of his drink before placing it out of the way. Registering the hands falling to my thighs, I’m pinned in place. “Drink up. You’ll feel better.”
The desire to shut my eyes and sleep is overwhelming, but with the way they’re watching me, I don’t think it’s a good idea. Bradley lifts the champagne to my lips, and the scent wafts up my nose as he forces me to take a sip. “No.” I swat at the glass.
A muffled voice comes from my right. “Seems like someone might have been having a little too much fun at the reception.”
For the next several minutes, I tune out their conversation, all while focusing on the bubbles rising to the top of the flute and wishing I could float away. Anywhere but here.
My brows lazily pinch together as my head turns. The wicked lick of the flames is making it all too warm in here, and everywhere I look, the suite has this odd, hazy quality.
Bradley squeezes my hip. I slowly tilt my chin up to look at him. “This champagne. Tastes funny. No more.”
His lips quirk. “No? I think you should. We’re celebrating.”
“Wanna … lie down.” My head swims.
The men’s chuckles come at me sounding hollow, vibrating inside my skull. “Whoa, there.” His friends snicker softly as he takes the glass from my hand and sets it out of the way.
My thoughts turn end over end, like they’re rotating through thick muck and going nowhere. Unable to hold my eyelids open any longer, they flutter closed. Surrendering to the clogged, cloudy feeling, my limbs are heavy, almost as if they’re weighed down. Nothing makes sense.
Confusion slams into me from the way the room seems to shift when I move my head.
Bradley’s hands slide over my hips and thighs, dragging me off the couch and into his lap. I’m completely out of it. “Nope. You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to stay right here with us.”
“U-us?” Vaguely aware of being carried to a new location, my lips press together.
A moment later, my back hits something soft, and I look through bleary eyes to find the skirt of my dress is up around my hips. Through my daze, I spy Bradley and his friends standing at the end of the bed.
Fingers claw at my panties, ripping them from me. I squirm, shoving ineffectively. “St—” I can’t even get the word out. But somewhere in the frantically slow working of my mind, I beg them to stop.
“Damn, Bradley.” Marcus wets his lips. “I can’t wait to sample her perfect pink pussy.”
“She’s my wife. I get the first taste.”
My legs are wrenched open, and something wet dives between them, touching me in ways that have my stomach gurgling with sickness. “N-n-nooo.”
“You’re mine. And you’ll do whatever I want,” he hisses viciously. I lift my head, uncoordinated limbs too sluggish to be of any help in fending him off. My mind screams as the room spins and gyrates. Color and sound shift every time I open my eyes.
A second later, my face is shoved into the mattress as I’m flipped over. Greedy hands are all over me, pawing at my skin from every direction. I can’t even tell who’s who anymore. I just know they’re everywhere.
In my hazy awareness, fear spikes within me.
I want to cry out, want to scream, but all that comes out is an agonized moan.
It doesn’t even sound like me. I try to buck myself free, but I’m pinned in place.
Impaled as they push inside me, filling every open space and splitting my body and soul to pieces.
Laughter echoes through the room, followed by wicked whispers of cruelty. My entire body shakes as the mattress beneath me shifts. I blink, turning my head. All I want is to escape, but all I can do is stare into nothing.
I sob at the incoherent way my thoughts are processing. Run away, Noah. Slam the door. Lock it behind you.
I’m lost inside a nightmare of my own making.
Death would be easier, because I’m broken beyond repair.