13. Lara
13
LARA
I pace around the room after finally composing myself. I’m starving since I’ve had nothing but sandwiches since I’ve been taken.
But my stomach also feels sick. I know this isn’t the right thing to do, to marry for revenge and safety. I want to marry for love, want to marry someone who sets my soul on fire.
Sure, maybe there’s a little chemistry when Rory touches my hand or speaks close to my ear in that deep voice of his, but it’s not real . It’ll never be real.
I just want to go home.
Since it seems like it’s taking forever for Rory to bring me dinner, I get up and shuck off his clothes, stepping into the wedding dress.
It’s a simple one, one that I probably would have picked for myself. I’m not much on the flouncy, long trains like Paige likes.
I can’t exactly button up the bodice all the way without help, but I look in the full-length mirror in the bathroom and the dress fits me like a glove. Maybe it’s even a bit too snug around the hips, but it makes me look like I have a little bit of a figure.
I’ve always been stick-straight, so it’s flattering. Normally, trying on a wedding dress is supposed to make you giddy, happy.
I just feel nauseous and anxious. I wish there was any other way to do this.
I take off the dress and carefully put it back in the plastic bag, hanging it up.
Maybe there is another way to do this. Maybe I can escape, now that Rory has taken off my restraints and loosened security. Oscar hadn’t been back around, or any of the men who had taken me.
I walk over to the window of Rory’s room, and although it isn’t painted shut like the one in the left wing, it’s a long drop down into a rose bush. I’ll never make the jump without twisting an ankle or maybe breaking my neck.
I sigh heavily. I’ve already run through nearly every scenario of escape, and it’s just too risky. I put on a robe that I find in the bathroom, cinching it at the waist.
I suddenly feel exhausted, probably because I’ve been on my feet pacing nearly all day. Not to mention the emotional exhaustion of being kidnapped and away from my loved ones.
Still in Rory’s robe, I curl up on the bed, pulling the comforter over my head so that it’s dark and still. I’ve done that since I was a little girl, especially when I was scared.
I’m asleep before I ever realize I’ve closed my eyes.
“There you are, Burke bitch,” a voice croons from the end of the bed.
I bolt upright, trying to scramble out of bed, but it seems that all I can move is my eyes now that I’m sitting up. Everything else feels paralyzed.
I make a low whining noise in the back of my throat as my eyes move around the room. No one. Just shadows. There’s no Scott at the end of the bed. There’s no one at all.
But I can feel thick fingers on my ankles, yanking me toward the edge of the bed. I scream, but no sound comes out.
“Be still, and I won’t hurt you.”
I kick and scream and wiggle, but I’m still paralyzed, just lying there like a ragdoll as he gets closer and closer to me. He covers my body with his, his breath hot against my neck, and my skin starts to crawl.
“Please,” I manage to say, and he grunts, pressing his face into my neck.
My eyes pop open, and I throw off the comforter, hot and terrified. I look up at the ceiling, my breath coming short.
Rory hadn’t been there to save me in my dream, and I’m so glad I woke up before...
A soft knock sounds on the door as I lay there, sweating and panting after the terrible nightmare.
My head feels fuzzy, too heavy, my stomach full of knots.
“Come in,” I call, and Rory walks inside with a big plate that smells incredible and a glass of what appears to be white wine.
I kind of want to kiss him again because I’m so excited about the food and wine.
A sandwich a day and bottled water really hasn’t been doing it for me.
I take the wine first, taking a huge gulp and then setting the glass down on the nightstand.
Rory chuckles at my exuberance as I sit down on the bed, crossing my legs under me and balancing the plate on them.
I dig in without a word, shoveling food into my mouth and making a moaning noise as the taste hits my tongue.
“This is almost as good as Marisol’s shepherd's pie.”
Rory smiles, shutting the door behind him. “I’ll let Kristina know that you like it.”
I never thought that I’d be in Niall Murphy's house, complimenting his chef and marrying his son, but here I am.
“Did you try on the dress?”
I nod. “It’s a little tight around the hips, but not enough to need an alteration. How did you guess my size?”
Rory looks away and then back at me. “I’m kind of an expert on women’s figures.”
I stare up at him for a long moment before I realize that he’s making a joke.
I bark out a surprised laugh. “That wasn’t smooth at all.”
“It wasn’t? I guess being an accountant has taken away all of my game.”
I keep eating, smiling around the fork.
My head starts to feel less heavy on my shoulders as I get some food down and continue drinking the wine.
I’m almost feeling back to normal, and I’m grateful.
“Thank you for the food and wine.”
Rory smiles thinly. “It’s the least I can do. You know that eventually, you’ll have to come down for dinner.”
And meet Niall Murphy, my father’s arch-nemesis.
I swallow hard. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“Fair enough.”
I finish eating, placing the plate beside me and putting a hand on my stomach.
“I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight,” Rory says, and I look over at him, surprised.
“You are?”
He nods. “You need time to get used to all of this. Just until the wedding, though, because I don’t want anyone getting suspicious.”
“Okay,” I say quietly, a little touched that he’s allowing me some time to myself. Part of me also wonders if I’ll have more nightmares when I fall asleep. I think I’ll be up for a long while tonight, after that nap.
Rory pulls his phone out of his pocket and sits next to me, showing me engagement and wedding rings on his phone.
“Pick one.”
I frown. “I told you I don’t care about any of this. It’s not like it’s real.”
“It has to look real, Lara. If my father gets wind of what we’re planning...”
He doesn’t have to finish the sentence. I know that Niall Murphy would likely kill me and his own son if he knew we were planning something.
I swallow hard and nod. Rory’s right.
I take his phone and scroll through pictures, finally finding the perfect ring–a princess cut diamond, a single carat, with inlaid rubies. Rubies are my favorite gemstone. Plus, it’s not as expensive as the two and three carat ones.
“That one,” I breathe, but something aches in my chest.
I wish this were real. I wish I was sitting next to the man I loved, not the son of my father’s enemy.
“It’s pretty.” Rory takes his phone back, pressing buttons and entering information on the keyboard. “It’s purchased. I’ll pick it up in the morning.”
I blink. Even though I’d picked one that’s fairly inexpensive, it’s still a lot of money to dole out at once. And he bought the wedding dress today, too. “You make that kind of money as an accountant?”
Rory grins. “I do pretty well for myself, and I’ve got a ton in savings. But my father is footing the bill for this wedding.”
“Of course.”
I hate it, Niall having anything to do with my wedding. But it has to be this way. He and Rory have to seem like a united front.
“You have to be bored in here.”
I groan. “Unbelievably bored.”
It’s not exactly that I’m bored, if I’m honest, but more that I know I won’t sleep any time soon. I need something to distract myself.
Rory stands and reaches his hand out to me.
I stand up, and he leads me to the door. I pause in the doorway, biting my lip.
“You’re not going to run into my father,” he promises. “He’s away until tomorrow.”
I nod and follow him into the hallway. I’m not quite ready to meet the man, the myth, the legend. The monster.
“Remember I told you the left wing was mostly storage?”
“Yeah?”
“I left something out.”
“What’s that?” I’m intrigued despite the situation.
Rory takes my hand, and heat rushes through me at how big his hand is, how it devours mine.
He tugs me toward the left wing, and we pass the room I was thrown into.
I hurry past it, not wanting any memories to come through, as if they’re lurking beyond the door instead of in my head.
At the end of the left wing, there are two huge double doors. The doorknobs are decorated with leaves.
“What’s this?”
“You’ll see.”
Rory smiles slightly as he opens the door, and the room beyond is huge , bigger than any of the bedrooms and the dining area.
Bookshelves line the walls, books stacked in every spot, and there’s a large picture window with a window seat.
I look around in awe and then hurry to the window seat, sinking down on the cushion with my knees. There’s a gorgeous view of the pool and the back terrace with its gazebos on either side. And flowers. Flowers everywhere.
“My father wouldn't stop planting new ones after my mother left,” Rory says softly. “They’re everywhere.”
“They’re beautiful.” And although I know that Niall is a monster, I wonder if he truly did love his wife.
I know from experience that not all bad men are all bad, and that not all good men are all good. I guess even someone like Niall Murphy has shades of gray.
“If you don’t like to read, there’s plenty of magazines—” Rory starts, and I laugh.
“I love to read, Rory. It’s my favorite pastime.”
He tilts his head. “Really? Me, too.”
“So, you read like autobiographies or war stories?” I tease.
He shakes his head. “Nah, I like fiction. Horror. Drama.” He pauses. “Romance.”
I snort. “You do not like romance books.”
“I do.” He wrinkles his nose at me. “Just don’t tell anyone.”
My heart skips a beat.
He really is handsome. The more I look at him, the more I can see his resemblance to Bree, their strong brows and bright blue eyes.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I look around, picking out a few books. A drama, a horror novel, and a couple of romances.
Rory points at the last romance I’ve picked up, a historical romance. “This one’s a real bodice ripper.”
I burst out laughing. As I’m walking around, I pick up a strange book that seems to have no title. Or at least, I try to pick it up. It just shifts slightly, and the tiles on the floor in the middle of the room open up.
My mouth drops open. “Is that a trap door?”
Rory chuckles. “No. Probably one of my dad’s hiding places. Don’t worry about it.”
He walks over to me, placing his hand over mine and pushing the book back into place. The tiles slowly close tight.
“Guns?” I ask, my throat getting tight.
“Among other things.”
“I want to learn to shoot,”
Rory cocks a brow at me.
I look hopeful at him. “Do you know how?”
“Of course, I do. My father made sure of that.” His voice sounds strained.
“Would you teach me?”
He’s so close to me that he could lean down and brush my nose with his, brush his lips against mine...
Rory shakes his head. “I can’t allow you to have a firearm.”
“Thought we were supposed to trust each other.”
He smiles. “Trust is earned, honey. And you haven’t earned mine yet.”
I pout but follow him back to the bedroom, sitting on the bed as Rory stands in the doorway.
I put my books on the nightstand.
Someone has come up and straightened the room–my new clothes are all hanging up and the wine glass and plate are gone, the bed made.
“Goodnight, Lara.”
I look up at him. “Goodnight, Rory.”
He shuts the door, and I read late into the night, trying to keep my mind off of him, my upcoming marriage, and most of all, the nightmare I had.
Chapter Fourteen